by Aimee Laine
“Jefferson Champs is the owner,” Wyatt said in clipped recitation. “Soleil Champs is his wife and a partner. They’ve owned the club for three years, although the last year has been their most successful—at least as far as public record indicates.”
“What’s its name?” Lily asked.
“Ah …” Papers shuffled from Wyatt’s seat.
Charley couldn’t imagine that he didn’t know. A ruse? Distraction?
“Mind Benders.”
“Unique,” Lily said.
“The club opens at five, closes at two. Four poles are strategically placed throughout the room. One report indicates sixteen women dance there daily. Dances range from five to ten minutes each with a fifteen minute break for the dancer while another takes over.”
“Holy shit!” Charley sat upright, her eyes open wide. “Ten? As in minutes?” She turned to glare at Lily. “Ten?” The longest routine she’d practiced lasted three minutes and thirty-two seconds.
Lily leaned away. “Yeah, well, I read that in one of the books I told you I brought.”
“You’re not making this easy for me.” Charley crossed her arms.
“And who, in her right mind, thought being a super secret, sexy agent with U.S. government ties would be easy?” Lily’s retort came with fire and a smile.
Charley threw herself against the back of the seat.
Wyatt motioned to his papers. “So, ah, back to the club?”
Charley flicked her hand at him, cocked her head in his direction. “Floor’s all yours.”
“Um … dancers. So, sixteen dancers, about ten wait staff—mostly women. Four bouncers, two remain at the entrance throughout the night. The club has never been cited for any violence, no drug busts, no fires or anything. By all accounts it’s a clean operation.”
“The club is just the venue, right? It’s not of significance itself,” James said.
“Uh … well, right, but, there is something else.” Wyatt tapped the edge of the papers and folders as if to align them.
“What do you mean, ‘something else’?” The muscle in James’s jaw worked as if he chewed an overcooked steak.
Wyatt shifted, crossed and uncrossed his legs.
Charley’s entire body tensed. “Ditto that.”
Lily nudged her, sniffed the air.
“I smell a rat, too. Speak. Now, Wyatt.”
“Everything I’ve told you is true,” Wyatt said.
“Wyatt?” Charley tapped her foot against the floor as her grip on the armrest grew tighter. “What else is there to tell?”
“Watch the seat there, Charley.” Lily’s hand laid on top of Charley’s for a brief second.
“Candie is our in, but her information is not our only objective.” Wyatt took a deep breath.
Before Charley could comment again, her stomach flip-flopped with the plane’s descent. She turned back to Wyatt where he sat, stiff within his seat. “What is our ultimate goal then?”
• • •
In the bright sunlight, Montreal’s dense forest of glass reflected in the water at its edge. Traffic ran through streets at a busy pace, though on the outskirts, trees grew for miles. The plane banked, turning a circle toward the airport.
Wyatt realized he’d have one last chance to convince his key player. “Char—”
“Secondary missions are a breach of contract, Wyatt.” She didn’t even glance in his direction.
She baffled and tantalized him—a chameleon of emotions he didn’t know how to read. Less than eight hours remained to complete the project. Wyatt had been promoted up the ranks because he followed the rules. His commander told him not to divulge all details unless desperate.
Dammit. I need her.
Rubber met pavement before the plane taxied to the private FBO. It rolled to a stop with an abrupt push forward.
Wyatt had yet to come up with a proper argument. As Charley put it, he had failed to inform her of a part of the program.
They all straightened at the knock on the door.
“Did someone know we were coming?” Charley asked.
Taxiway crew responded only to the captain—another government agent assigned to Charley’s plane. Once an aircraft found its position, ground crew either waited for the passengers to deplane or moved back to their work.
“Only those required by FAA rules would know, “ Wyatt said.
He and James both laid hands on weapons hidden at their waists. Wyatt knew James had no direct affiliation with the FBI, but he’d secured equal clearance through Cael and Charley. Wyatt moved forward to unlatch the door and released the steps.
A Canadian official stepped up to them. His dark blue uniform identified him as Law Enforcement. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to return to your point of origin,” he said, his voice authoritative.
“I’ll handle this,” Wyatt mouthed to James, with an accompanying look to Charley. “I’m sorry, officer, but we’ve been authorized to land.”
“There are no authorized planes at this FBO today.”
Wyatt withdrew papers from his suit jacket. “Will this do?” He passed them to the officer, but turned away.
Charley tapped her toes against the floor of the cabin and her fingers along her thigh.
Wyatt turned back as the man spoke.
“We’ll have to confirm these. Please remain within the plane with the door closed. Do not re-engage your engines.”
Wyatt returned to his seat, two hands against the sides of his head.
“Why are we being held?” Charley asked. “I thought the U.S. and Canada had a customs and immigration agreement?”
Wyatt blew out a breath of frustration. “They do. This guy is D.E.S.—drug enforcement. My only thought is that private planes are piping in or carrying out drugs.”
He and James exchanged glances.
“Why do you guys keep looking at each other like that? And what were the papers you gave him?”
“Standard U.S. customs documentation,” Wyatt said. “They should identify us as well as the plane. They may ask to do a search, though.”
“So? Why is that a problem?” Charley asked.
Wyatt turned to James.
Charley threw her hands up into the air. “All day it’s been one thing after another! Either tell me what’s going on, or I’m going to have our captain turn us around just like those guys ordered.” Her finger angled its way to Wyatt.
He stretched his legs, swatted and pulled at his trousers. “There are a few items they might question. My gun is restricted, but I do have paperwork as well as the Authorization to Transport. My bigger concern is the supplies we have and the hardware for our … observation.”
“Supplies?”
“We have drugs, truth serums, among other items, in case we need them. We—” The maternal disapproval she aimed his way sent shivers along his spine.
Charley shrugged. “So, we’re visitors, and I have medical issues. Easily explained. For the hardware, well, that’s business.”
Yet another flip of her on-off switch. Wyatt shook his head, waved her off in agreement, but huffed out a breath before he continued. “We’re on a tight schedule.” A quick glance at his watch caused the other three to do the same.
The knock on the outer shell of the plane brought them all back to attention. The same officer greeted them as the door opened.
“You all are free to disembark,” the officer said. “We apologize for any inconvenience the additional time has caused you.” The officer handed Wyatt the paperwork with a nod, turned and walked away.
“Easy as that?” Lily asked.
“Well then. See?” Charley walked through the door. “If you want to talk to me Wyatt, come and get me. Otherwise, I’m getting a drink and going home.”
“She’s not going to make this easy, is she?” Wyatt asked.
James shook his head. “We’ll hang back until you’ve convinced her, or she gets back on and we fly away.”
Wyatt rushed after Charley. He caught her be
fore she passed the cars he’d rented. “Charley!”
She stopped, bag in hand and turned toward him.
He held his spot on the tarmac. “Wait, please.”
“What? More excuses? More stories? Lies? Do you guys do anything on the up and up?” Anger burned through her questions.
“I’m not allowed to share everything.”
“Do you think I care?” Charley walked up to Wyatt and poked him in the chest. “My team is my responsibility. We don’t make compromises for that, Wyatt. For many, many and very good reasons.”
He sighed, resigned to the potential that the entire activity would blow up in his face. “I’m sure you care—”
“Took you long enough. I do care. I care about my country, the people in my country, and I believe in my government. So far you’ve asked me to gather intelligence in a titty-bar and are still withholding what else you want me to do.”
“I know.”
“You have to tell me before you hire me, Wyatt. I’m a free agent. The government doesn’t own me like it does you.”
She hit him where it hurt with the last, as he too believed in his country and government. He’d just chosen to work for them and follow their orders, whereas she had flexibility.
Wyatt reached his hand, palms up, toward her. “Can I tell you what else we need then?”
“Please do.” She put her hands on her hips—the same stance he’d seen her hold when flanked by her team.
“The two guys that Candie met trade information. We believe what they told her is a small piece of an international operation beyond the U.S. and Canadian borders. We need the information, but secondary to that, we need to interrogate one of them without their knowledge.”
“Why is this such a big deal? This is nothing new. Drugs. Money. Whatever. I get details for people all the time by playing their role. What is so different about this that you couldn’t tell me?”
“Their group targets and sells children,” he said. “It’s—”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” The horror in her eyes turned to pain and moved to anger before he could expand.
As she stared back at him, he’d have sworn her eyes changed color, but she moved out of his shadow and dropped her gaze before he could confirm.
“I’ll do whatever you need.” She walked away.
• • •
Charley walked straight to the red car, whipped open the passenger door and slid into the seat. Why hadn’t he just told her? Do James and Lily know? James would. Cael too. It would break Lily’s heart.
She watched as Wyatt walked back to the plane and James stepped out. Lily followed, Wyatt right behind her again.
“Who thought to rent a Porsche?” Charley asked when Wyatt fit himself into the driver’s seat.
“Ah, that was my idea, actually.” He adjusted dials, mirrors and the seat itself.
“Why? Or is that top secret, too?”
He shrunk back in his seat. “No, not a secret. I have a fondness for fast cars and take every opportunity I can to drive them.” He remained silent for a moment. “Sorry, Charley.”
Charley’s laughter broke the tension-filled day. “Not you, too? Isn’t that expression old and outdated?” She held her smile in place as confusion spread through his. “Oh! You didn’t say it as a joke.” She waved the thought away.
Wyatt’s expression turned lighthearted with a baby of a smile. “No, I didn’t, but I get it now. I’m apologizing for not telling you sooner. And—” He kept going before she could interrupt him. “—I also want to thank you for agreeing to the assignment.” He moved to the ignition; the car roared to life. “Ready?”
She nodded.
“Ears on?” he said into the air.
Charley scanned for a mic or speaker but found none. Wyatt pulled out a miniature walkie-talkie radio and shook it at her before he tucked it into his pocket again.
“Ears on.” James’s voice came through from the sedan behind them. “Let’s get moving.”
“Why do you get the Porsche?” Lily’s pout came through as clear as James’s voice.
“’Cause I’m the one getting naked,” Charley told her before Wyatt could address her with any formality.
“I’ll give you a ride if you want, Lily.” Wyatt drove through the gates of the airport and headed toward the city.
Charley turned to him. Strength combined with kindness. He’d grown so much—not that she wouldn’t have expected that. The little changes made the difference. His face held a day’s stubble—more than she’d remembered he could produce before. More assured of himself, too. She valued loyalty over most other characteristics, and in that, he had not changed.
“Southwest on Boulevard Roméo-Vachon to Chemin de la Côte-de-Liesse.”
Like James, Lily, Cael and Sophie, Charley would put her trust and faith in Wyatt.
The Mercedes followed the Porsche through the streets—a caravan no one would recognize given their spread. As Wyatt drove, Charley played tourist. Given the four-o’clock hour, cars, taxis and buses inched through and trudged their way up and down each city block, keeping traffic at a near stand-still.
Wyatt slammed the breaks in response to those ahead of them.
“This is why I like life in our rural town.” Charley noted the majority of the clubs had French names—at least they kept to their locale.
Twenty-five minutes after they began, Wyatt signaled the final turn onto Boulevard Saint-Laurent. He parked in a garage marked with the sign for their hotel.
“Wyatt?” Charley asked as she unclipped. “I have a confession.”
He’d already opened his door, but he stopped, turned and leaned toward her.
“Cael will already be here.” She waited for his response, but instead, he proceeded to exit the car. She scrambled to follow and stood at the side. “Are you mad?”
“Nope.” His gaze switched to James and Lily as they pulled in next to them. He hadn’t smiled or winked, just stood stoic.
“Okay.” Charley didn’t believe him.
“Are you?” He asked her.
She considered a moment. “No.”
Her decision kept her team together. His came from an order. Both had responsibility to their people. How could I stay mad at him?
“Are we even then?” He reached across the top.
She took his hand. “I think we are.”
His touch sent vibrations through her arm that encompassed her entire body. Charley leaned into the car for support and let the sensations take over. Soft took on hard as their palms fit together—no different than before.
“Ahem.” Cael walked up to the cars and broke their connection.
“Cael!” Lily screeched and ran up to him, wrapped her arms around him. His folded her further in before she released him and stepped away.
Will they finally acknowledge what they have?
Cael walked to Wyatt. “I apologize for the crash, but this team …” Cael waved to the rest of them. “They’re more important to me than my job.”
Wyatt nodded at him and smirked. “You didn’t quit, did you?”
“Took some time off.”
“I’ll have that taken care of.” Wyatt turned back to Charley. “You are one demanding resource.” He winked at her—the expression for which she’d waited.
“Did you guys have this planned?” Charley asked.
“Not that I know about,” Wyatt said.
She’d let that secret stick. “Gonna get stuff then, Cael?”
His smile mirrored hers. He turned to James who handed him bags, and as a group, they began the short walk to the hotel.
“Cael?” Charley asked as they walked shoulder to shoulder. “Do you know all the details about this project?”
“Yes.”
“Will you please take care to discuss it with Lily?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Does James know?”
“Yes.”
Charley noted a sadness in his eyes that mirrored her own i
nternal thoughts on the subject.
Detached from the garage, the four-star hotel stood at three stories—an older structure nestled in the heart of downtown. ‘Posh’, Charley would say, despite the aged exterior.
As planned, the group staggered their check-ins, though their rooms had been pre-booked side by side. Wyatt and Charley took the lead, Cael and Lily two minutes behind and James alone.
“Wyatt and Charley Moreland.” Wyatt leaned to Charley’s ear. “Sorry, I took liberties for cover.”
She didn’t know what to say. She certainly couldn’t tell him how delightful it sounded and that her insides went all soft at the suggestion. Instead, she batted her lashes at the clerk while she snaked one arm through Wyatt’s.
Could it ever be just the two of us?
11
Wyatt leaned against the hotel room window. The club, across the street below, with its black doors, stood out among the rest of the buildings. A long waiting area, separated into two aisles, provided direction to its entrance. Wyatt imagined many an impatient visitor waited between the two lines for the club’s opening.
A small child swung hand in hand with his mother and father—Wyatt presumed.
He tore himself away from the happy family as work invaded his thoughts. He could only hope the kids they’d found and returned—left on doorsteps, under bridges or worse—had a better future. He needed ‘Candie’ to break the ring and Charley to go up a level in the bureau.
Charley moved to his side. “It’s gaudy.”
He turned to her, eyes as bright and clear as his purpose. “Why do you say that?”
She explained how the black with teal accents didn’t match the buildings to the right or left—an odd combination she considered very female. She’d expected mahogany or deep walnut. Why Wyatt considered that funny, he didn’t know, but it also didn’t surprise him—the woman had her own set of logic.
Charley interrupted his thoughts. “We don’t have long before Candie arrives.” She motioned to the small table in the center of the room, tucked between the two beds they couldn’t move any farther apart. James’s laptop boasted blueprints of the club.