by Dana Marton
None of his buddies had given up his location. And Shep’s team couldn’t find the Mustang, either.
The sad cowboy onstage finished his song and stood awkwardly for a lackluster applause before lumbering off the stage. The band stayed and another singer came on. This was one was a woman.
And then some.
Next to Shep, Keith gave a soft whistle.
She wore cherry-red cowboy boots, a denim skirt that was so short it was barely legal and a light green tank top that looked familiar.
He leaned forward to see better. Those curves... He didn’t want to be thinking what he was thinking. He had to be mistaken.
She stopped in front of the microphone with her hat pulled low over her eyes, her head bent. She hadn’t sung a word yet, but already she held the crowd’s attention, something the previous performer hadn’t managed. Chins were hitting the tables all over. The men ogled her as if they were ready to devour her.
Then she looked up and flashed a dazzling smile that lit up the room. She had a face to match the body, for sure. A couple of men growled with appreciation. Others let out more wolf whistles.
“Hot damn.” Even Keith couldn’t keep quiet, his voice laden with reverence.
Shep came halfway to his feet then caught himself and dropped back down just before he would have blown his cover. “What in blazing hell is Lilly doing up there?” He hissed the words between his teeth.
But Keith was too dazzled to listen.
* * *
SHE LOCKED HER KNEES so they wouldn’t shake. It’d been a long time since she’d sung onstage. And she’d never been a country singer. Lilly flashed another smile before she nodded to the three-man band behind her and started into a country ballad, similar to the one the singer before her had chosen.
She was one minute into it when she realized it wasn’t going to work for her, not at a place like this. The sweet love song was something women would listen to in the car while driving to school to pick up their kids. The rough-and-tumble men who filled the bar weren’t looking for sentimental, no matter how good the chords were.
Brian had been clear that he wanted a performance that hit the ball out of the park. Revenue was weak on band nights now that their lead singer had quit. He wanted some serious dough coming in. He wanted something that would bring people in early and make them stay until the closing bell.
She tried her best, putting all the heart she had into the song. Unfortunately, nobody was listening. A lot of the men were looking at the stage, but they were staring at her legs.
Since the audition was to be decided by applause...If the men kept staring instead of clapping when she finished, she was sunk.
Brian had asked for one song from each singer. She glanced at him as he sat up front, paging through a ledger book. He’d paid very little attention to the auditions so far. He certainly didn’t look as if he was ready to offer her the job on the spot. She needed to get his attention and she needed to do it in a hurry. Her ballad was almost over.
Oh, what the hell, since when did she play things safe? As she sang the last note, she glanced back and winked at the band, then turned to the audience.
“I like country,” she said and flashed a smile when a couple of men hooted in agreement, “but I’m a versatile kind of gal, so how about I show you a little bit of something else?”
A drunk shouted a few suggestions of what he’d like her to show him. The rest of the men laughed.
She had the lights in her eyes, so she could only make out the first row, but she knew the bar was packed. Tryouts for a new lead singer brought in some extra people, Mazie had told her just before Lilly came onstage. People liked the idea of getting a vote. Liked to check out fresh meat, too, probably.
Lilly took the ribbing in stride and tossed her cowboy hat into the audience, whipped her long hair and belted out the first line of the chorus to “I Love Rock ’n’ Roll” at the top of her lungs.
There was a second of pause. This was the moment where she might get thrown off the stage. But nobody booed and the manager simply watched her.
Then the band picked up the song.
Relief flooded her as she went on singing, excitement filling her little by little, and she danced across the stage as she sang, suddenly feeling like a kid again, without any worldly possessions, just the road and her guitar. She sang her heart out like she used to, the old moves coming right back as she rocked the hell out of the place.
She’d already been thrown back to the past by seeing Shep, and now this finished the job. She felt a decade younger and couldn’t say she didn’t like it.
“Yee-ha!” someone shouted.
Boots slapped against the wood floor, the applause deafening when she finished, with a few marriage proposals thrown in, and the men demanding more.
She felt a surge of satisfaction and just plain pleasure. She’d worked so hard to make herself into something more, something serious, that she’d forgotten how good this had felt.
“You have a fun night, now!” she called out to acknowledge the support.
The manager was grinning at her, looking pleased as peaches.
She grinned back then ran backstage, passing the next act going up, another lanky cowboy who stared at her with a troubled look on his face. She set aside the buzz of adrenaline and turned her attention to her true purpose for being here: covert surveillance. She turned off the rock chick and turned on the FBI agent.
For the moment, she was alone backstage. The narrow hallway connected the main bar with the office and the kitchen that prepared a dozen food items—all well salted to keep the drinking at an optimum. Her attention settled on a closed door at the end on her other side. She’d seen that earlier, had wondered where it led. This could be her chance to investigate.
The next contestant started into a song on the stage, sounding unsure. He had a good voice, but it seemed that her performance had thrown him. He didn’t seem to be able to find his footing.
Lilly tuned him out as she hurried over to the mystery door and tried the knob. Locked. Since she was pretty sure they were close to the outside wall and there was no upstairs above the bar, if the door hid stairs, they’d be going to a basement.
She had lock picks in her pocket. She reached for them, but footsteps behind her made her spin around. The music was so loud, she hadn’t heard him in time, not until the man was right behind her.
Brian’s face was expressionless as he watched her. He said nothing, waiting for her to speak first.
She flashed him her best smile. “Is this the staff bathroom? I think somebody’s in there.”
“No staff bathroom. We all use the one by the jukebox.” He didn’t volunteer any information on where this door led.
She could have asked, but didn’t want to sound as if she was snooping. “So how did I look on your stage?” she asked instead. “Felt right—” she grinned “—I tell you that. Nice crowd, too. I sure could get used to it.”
He measured her up. “We’ve never done anything but country.” He paused. “You know, from anybody else, this might not have gone down as well. But you...” His gaze stalled on her breasts for a second. Then slid to her injury. “What happened to your arm?”
She shrugged. “An argument with my last drummer.”
“You fit the harder music, I guess. Maybe it’s time for a change here. Let’s try it for a few weeks. When can you start?”
“As soon as possible.” They needed to find Wagner, and so far the bar was their only lead. “When could I get back on that stage, do you think?”
“We do live music Fridays and Saturdays. So how about tomorrow?” He named a dollar amount per night.
She didn’t argue with him. She couldn’t risk him changing his mind. It was Thursday. Tomorrow and the day after would give her two full nights to snoop around
here.
“I’m in. Thanks. I’ll be here tomorrow.” She moved to pass by him, but just as she did, she felt his hand patting her bottom.
Really?
Oh, man.
She could have put him on his back with a single move. But right now, going undercover at the Armadillo was more important. So she smiled as she turned and said, “Hey! There’ll be none of that.”
Brian raised his eyebrows, then shrugged after a second. “As long as you bring in money, it’s all good,” he said and simply watched as she walked away from him.
Would have been nice if that was the last word on the subject, but she didn’t think it would go as easy as that. Still, she’d cross that bridge when she got to it. She was in, and for now that was all that counted.
She grabbed her bag from behind the bar, then headed for the back door. She wanted to get a good feel for the place inside and out. Supposedly it was a known smuggler hangout. Did Brian know? Was Wagner involved? Did anyone smuggle any contraband straight through here? Did anyone here know anything about the terrorists coming through? She had two days to find out.
She pushed the metal door open. Grabbing some fresh air after her performance shouldn’t raise any suspicions.
She’d driven around the block before she’d shown up tonight to sing, so she knew the bar backed onto a narrow alley. She expected that she might run into a couple of smokers out there. But she didn’t expect to run into Shep.
He was about to come in as she stepped out. He looked pretty steamed about something.
She pulled up short to keep from running into him. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes glinted with fury as he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her aside. The door clicked closed behind her. They were alone in the alley that led to a side street on their left and ended at a brick wall two stores down on their right.
“What are you doing here?” He was all decked out in cowboy gear. And looked hot in it, dammit. The shirt perfectly fit his wide shoulders, the jeans pretty nice on his long legs.
While part of her appreciated the view, he didn’t look as if he appreciated anything about her at the moment. He looked mad enough to commit violence.
“Why are you here?” He snapped the question at her again.
“I’m going undercover.” She kept her voice down even if there wasn’t anyone else out there in the ten-or-so-feet-wide space between buildings.
“Like hell.” He dragged her away from the door.
She went with him, but only because anybody could come out from the bar at any moment, and she didn’t want them to hear the conversation. She didn’t want to blow her cover before she had a chance to use it.
He finally stopped next to an empty Dumpster. “Gyrating around the stage like that. In that...skirt.” His nostrils flared. “What were you thinking?”
“Listen—” She yanked at the skirt that had ridden up her legs from walking, revealing the winding tattoo on her inner thigh—an old mistake. “The bar is connected to smuggling. Through Doug Wagner, it’s also connected to the Coyote. In all likelihood, the Coyote was the one who hired Wagner to take out Jimmy before the law could catch up with him. The Yellow Armadillo is a decent lead. It’s worth checking out. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Instead of congratulating her on her good work, he looked as if he was grinding his teeth.
She remembered his mad face. It was as if they were back in the past all over again. She’d hoped he would be more...impressed with her this time around. Not that she needed his validation. She glared right back. “What’s your problem?”
“You.” He spit out the word. “On a stage. Naked.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. She was fully clothed. “I’ve done worse on the road.”
His shoulders stiffened. “I don’t want to know about it.” He drew in a ragged breath. “That shouldn’t have happened. You shouldn’t have run away. I should have found a way to stop you.”
All he ever wanted was to save her somehow, back then and now, apparently. While all she’d ever wanted, at least back then, was for him to see her as a woman. “Nobody could have stopped me. And it wasn’t bad. Nobody beat me like at some of the homes. I was my own person. I grew up. I turned out okay.”
“Better than most runaways,” he grudgingly agreed, then let several minutes pass before he asked, “Is this what you did after you left? Singing?”
“You expected a crime spree?”
A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “It crossed my mind.”
She shook her head. “Things could have easily gone that way. But for whatever reason, I decided to go in another direction.” She allowed a hint of a smile of her own. “Maybe it was your good influence. Believe it or not, your car was the last thing I lifted. I tried odd jobs, but I figured out pretty soon that singing paid the best.”
“And then?”
“When I found a steady gig, I finally made enough to rent a room. The landlady was all right. She offered me fifty bucks off the rent as long as I attended GED classes.”
Pat had been the closest thing to a mother Lilly had ever known. Never judged her, had never gotten in her face about anything. She’d taken Lilly seriously and treated her like somebody instead of a problem. Shep had done that, but for some reason she hadn’t been ready with Shep. Then she was suddenly ready with Pat. Maybe spending some time living in a car had made the difference.
Shep let his hand drop from her arm at last. “And then?”
“One of the GED teachers talked me into taking a few college classes in criminal law. I think to discourage me from getting too cozy with some of the shadier guys at the bar where I was singing. I thought, why not? It was an area where I had some experience.” No one knew that better than Shep. She’d gone to him with an impressive juvie record.
He looked skeptical. “College grew on you?”
“You know? It did.” She’d liked the challenge of it, the thought of doing something she’d never figured she could be capable of. “I even got a scholarship. And singing brought in enough money to pay the rest of my expenses. I didn’t quit the bars until I got hired full-time by the police department. They paid me to do more college. Then I moved to the FBI eventually.”
He took a second to take that all in. “Why aren’t you married, raising two-point-five kids in the suburbs?”
“Who says I’m not?”
His eyes widened. “Are you?”
She waited a moment before she shook her head. “I’d rather do something I’m good at.” And she had time. She wasn’t yet thirty.
He frowned. “You can be anything you want to be—”
“And I can achieve anything I set my mind to.” She finished his old mantra for him. She’d heard it a few dozen times, or a hundred. “Why aren’t you doing the family thing?” The brief she had on him said he’d never been married.
“I’d rather do one thing and do it well.”
“Live to work?”
He watched her. “You made it up the ranks pretty fast.”
She grinned into the darkness. “Turns out I’m good at something other than criminal mischief.”
“Yeah, like giving me a headache without half trying,” he said, but he no longer sounded mad.
“I’m sorry. About the past. Again. I didn’t mean to—” She didn’t finish. Rehashing her sins wouldn’t work in her favor. “The point is, having someone undercover here would be an asset to the team—”
Movement at the opening of the alley caught her eye. She was facing that way, while Shep faced toward the bar.
The dark shape that had appeared was walking toward them. Then he walked under the bare lightbulb hanging above a rusted back door of some other business, and she recognized him from the mug shot. Doug Wagner, the guy in the red Mustang who’d s
hot Jimmy.
He eyed them with suspicion as he came closer. There was only one thing a rodeo cowboy and a woman dressed like her would be doing in the back alley, and it wasn’t having a serious conversation, she realized in a flash.
Shep had been half leaning against the brick wall. She shifted to push him fully against the wall and nestled her body against his.
“Lilly.” He said her name in a strangled whisper. He still hadn’t seen Wagner.
She nuzzled his neck. “Just play along for a minute,” she whispered into his ear as she ran her hands up his chest. She didn’t mean anything by it, but found herself distracted suddenly. Okay. Nice. He definitely wasn’t lacking in the muscle department.
For a moment, he stood stiffly, then he probably heard the footsteps at last because he caught on and put his hands on her waist. And nuzzled her right back, setting the sensitive skin on her neck tingling.
God, it’d been a long time since a man had made anything of hers tingle. She’d been married to her job for too long, had taken too many back-to-back assignments lately. This felt nice. It made her miss...something she’d never really had.
Of course, he was all her teenage fantasies come true. And then some. The hard planes of his body fit perfectly against hers. He was all sexy, hot male.
“You smell like leather,” she whispered to him.
“New boots, new belt.”
“Huh.” Okay, so her response could have been a shade more intelligent, but...
Shep Lewis had his hands on her!
She’d pictured this happening a few hundred times when she’d been seventeen, but reality was so much better. Thank God she was grown up and had moved on and all that. It would be a disaster if she let that old crush come back, considering Shep was one of the men she was supposed to be observing and reporting on.
His hands tightened on her waist and he pulled her even tighter against him as Wagner passed by them, then went inside.