The Bloke (Men Under Revue #1)

33. Sienna

Chapter 33

Sienna

THREE WEEKS AGO.

Every group I instructed went through hell today. I took my rage out on my classes, and while everyone left complimenting me for the best workout they’ve ever had, I was still in a pissy mood.

Colby had been ignoring me, and I assumed intentionally, not wanting to talk about the night at Fallout and what happened between us—what he did in front of me.

I shouldn’t be pissed off at him; I should be happy that he’s finally leaving me alone and feels more like an unwanted roommate than my husband, but no… All because my dumbass wants what it can’t have, and now that he isn’t fucking me, I want him like a fucking drug.

Fuck! I smashed my fist on the front desk just as the door opened.

“Carter.” Double fuck… I knew that voice. One I had hoped to forget and never hear from again, and yet here he was, standing before me in full tactical gear as if he had just returned from a raid.

“Officer Landon…” I crooned, glaring daggers at him as he approached the desk. “To what do I owe this unpleasant visit.” Please fucking leave.

The last thing I needed today was to deal with one of Las Vegas Special Forces assholes.

“Well, aren’t you always just a ray of fucking sunshine.” He grunted, removing his dark sunglasses and nestling them in his short blonde hair. “I’ve got a job for you.”

“I told you I was done working for you.” I snapped, standing from my seat.

I was only five-five, but I knew how to make a six-foot-tall man feel small.

“And we told you that if we ever had a job that you—and only you—could perform, we would be in touch to collect the last payment of your debt.”

“What the fuck kind of job could the LVSF possibly have that only I could do?” I shot him a skeptical look just as he glanced down at my hand.

“Married now? I’ll have to tell Officer Travis; he’ll be devastated.” He smirked, arching a brow. Oh, fuck… don’t tell me…

“My life is none of your, Travis, or the LVSF’s fucking business,” I growled. “Now get the fuck out of my studio.”

“It is our business when you are married to a member of the Men Under Revue.”

“The fucking what?” I sarcastically laughed, rolling my eyes at the ridiculous name. “You’ve got to be joking. My husband is a male revue dancer, not… whatever the fuck you just said.”

“Didn’t you ever question how a guy who dances for a living could afford a penthouse with a skyline view of the Strip and, let me guess, a nice car?” He offered. “I know you aren’t that dense, Carter. Your husband is a walking red fucking flag—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I cut him off. “After all the shit you pulled with Travis. Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare. Tell me what a red fucking flag looks like.” I sneered with aggravated venom. “You have no fucking right.”

He covered up for Travis once upon a time when he attempted to take advantage of me—using his job and title to abuse the system and use me like I was some fucking toy. He never actually did, but his threats left their mark on me all the same. Like them, I was supposed to be a highly regarded LVSF Officer, but they drove me away from the career, and I was better for it now that I look back on it.

“You do this last job for us, and we won’t come near you ever again.”

“That better be a goddamn promise, and I want it in writing.” I knew how these men played their games and wouldn’t help them without insurance this time.

“Deal.” He agreed without pause.

Landon knew what I would want; I’m sure he had the agreement already tucked inside his vest, ready and waiting for me to sign on the dotted line.

“What is it you need me to do?” I asked, raising a curious brow.

“That all depends. Have you had your test as a wife?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Test? What test?” I scoffed. “Why would I need to be tested to be his wife?” For STDs? A stupid thought…

Landon sighed and rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“The Men Under Revue is a secret society; that should be explanation enough…” He paused. “If they haven’t tested you yet, they will sooner rather than later to ensure you can keep your mouth shut and their organization a secret.” Way to put things bluntly.

“Fine, whatever. No, I haven’t been tested yet.” I crossed my arms, mimicking his stance.

“If that’s the case, then you are more valuable than I initially thought you would be.” He pursed his lips in thought before chewing on his cheek. “We need you to essentially—play dead.”

“I’m not a dog, Landon.” Play fucking dead…Woof. “Quit tiptoeing around and just tell me what the fuck you need me for, or get the fuck out.” My patience was wearing thin, and I needed a break from everything, including his unwanted ass.

“Your test will require you to spill blood—commit murder—if that wasn’t obvious.”

“And let me guess, you want me to off my husband?” Not a fucking chance in hell. I may hate him, but not enough to kill him. “Or perhaps set him up for you to arrest and kill him instead?” The sarcasm that dripped from my lips was clear as day.

“No, now let me fucking finish…” He hissed through gritted teeth. I loved pissing him off.

“Your target is the same one we’ve been hunting down for months, a high-ranking member of a cult that has been slowly creeping its way into cities across the nation. We don’t want them here infiltrating Las Vegas, so we need to get a handle on it before things escalate any further. To do that, we need this man alive, which means you need to allow him to take you as a vulnerable hostage. Then, when the time is right, you’ll take a bullet and fake your death so we can arrest him before the Men Under Revue can take him out.” That was a fucking mouthful.

“Why the fuck would I take a bullet for you?” I huffed a sarcastic laugh. “A badge of honor that means jack shit to me?”

“You aren’t taking it for me; you are taking it for your husband. He will want to help you with your test, but you need to force him not to. Taking the bullet will save his life because we will not hesitate to shoot or kill anyone who might prevent us from taking our target—alive.”

“How do you know my test and your target are the same person?” I questioned.

How could he possibly know who my target would be if I was only just now learning everything about my husband and this secret society he apparently belonged to ? This was all too much for me today; my head was swimming with all the new information he was feeding me.

“That’s classified; if you had stuck around longer, you would know just as much as we do.” He shrugged. “But it’s the truth, and we need your help if you intend to keep your husband around well past this next month.”

A morbid statement coming from him. The thought of Colby dying to protect me from… what? My test? The LVSF? If what Landon was saying was, in fact, true… how could any of this be true?

“Faking your death will isolate all of the attention to you, distracting everyone while the rest of my men secure and extract our target from the area.”

“You’re asking too much of me.” I breathed, considering all of the complications that could arise from this.

“We are asking more than enough if you want us to leave you alone for the foreseeable future.” He admitted. “When the time is right, you’ll inject yourself with an antifibrinolytic cocktail serum to slow your heart rate and prevent bleeding out from the gunshot wound until medics can attend to you. Contact me once you receive your test so I can walk you through further instructions.”

And without another word, he turned and left the studio, my heart and soul feeling heavier than ever before. Why had Colby never mentioned I would need to pass a test?

After Landon had left, I made my way into the back of the studio, where my private dance room was set up, and I sat in the middle of the floor, staring at my reflection in the mirrors.

How the fuck was I going to pull this off…

FORTY-EIGHT HOURS PRIOR.

After my husband confirmed the when and where of my test, I contacted Officer Landon and had him meet me back at the studio to discuss precisely what he needed me to do.

I closed the studio but didn’t tell Colby. As far as he was concerned, I was working a regular shift today, nothing more.

Since he arrived home, he had been reeling about this test, and I didn’t want to worry him anymore by adding the extra layer of complication with the LVSF. It killed me to lie to him, to act as though I didn’t know anything but what he had told me.

I would have a lot of explaining to do with him later, and this alone may ruin our marriage, but I had to do whatever it took to save him—and us if I could. I just hoped he would understand.

“Carter.” Landon entered the studio, and I pushed away from the front desk and stepped around it to meet him. “I’ve got your contract.” He held up a long white envelope, and my eyes snapped immediately to it—my freedom from them.

“Let’s get this over with. I don’t have all day.” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest.

“How your husband puts up with your bright attitude, I’ll never know.” He sighed, gesturing to the back room of the studio. “I’d rather not be seen discussing this with you here. Can we?—”

I rolled my eyes before turning on my heel and escorting him to the back room of the studio. I chewed my cheek, the only thing on my mind being my husband, who I hoped would peacefully sleep the day away.

When I caught him pacing the kitchen this morning, he looked pale and exhausted. It broke me to see him in such a state of distress and not be able to disclose everything I knew to comfort him. Fuck, I was a horrible wife right now…

“Alright, talk.” I slammed the door shut behind us once we entered the studio space.

“Eager to be shot, are we?” Landon chuckled as he handed me the envelope. I opened it, pulled out the contract his superior had already signed, and inspected the wording closely.

“Far from it, but I have better things to do today than socialize with you,” I mumbled, tucking the contract away when everything looked good.

“Fucking your husband couldn’t be any better than being here with me.” He smirked, and I cringed at his words, a shiver trailing down my spine. He had the worst sense of humor.

“Just—” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose and squeezing my eyes shut. “What do you need me to do?”

“Catch.” He spoke as he tossed me a disk that looked no bigger than a button on a coat.

My eyes widened in surprise when I opened them and reached out to catch the flying object before it hit the ground.

“What’s this?” I asked as I examined the quarter-sized black button in my hand.

It had one smooth side, and the other had sharp prongs, almost like tiny needles embedded into it.

“That is what you are going to inject yourself with right before I shoot you.” He pointed at the button in my hand. “You press your palm to the back while the sharp side rests against your skin; the dome will pop and inject you with the cocktail.” I continued to inspect the small disk, rolling it between my fingers, avoiding the sharp prongs on the underside. “That cocktail will give you roughly an hour before you bleed out.” Good to know, not at all reassuring…

“And where are you shooting me?” I asked, not actually wanting to know his answer, but it was all I could think of as the thought of bleeding out before I could get medical attention wracked my brain.

“Your chest. It has to look believable; shooting you anywhere else won’t pose a convincing impression.”

My attention snapped back up to him, my lips parting in shock.

“My chest?” Now, I really didn’t want to go through with this anymore. “And how can I be sure you won’t shoot me in my lung or heart at the same time?” I wouldn’t put it past him to set me up to get a cheap shot at me.

“You know our training. I won’t hit anything major, and if I do, our medic will be on you faster than your husband.” He assured me, seeming far too confident with his plan.

I stood there for several seconds, my hand wrapped around the disk and my head swimming with unsavory thoughts of death.

“Are we good here?” He asked at my extended silence.

I swallowed a dry lump in my throat and nodded.

“Yes…” I breathed, my anxiety soaring through the roof. “I got this.”

I could and would do this; there was no other choice. Colby or me.

I had training just like Landon; I knew how to handle extreme-pressure situations.

The only thing I had to do now was ensure my husband stayed out of the way. I would need to convince him I could handle this test independently without his assistance. Fuck.