Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“AS YOU ALL know, Charles Gauthier,” McBride began, motioning toward the image of a stone-faced man wearing a scarf and overcoat on the giant screen, “also known as Le Chimiste , is responsible for the infamous cocktail drug ‘ambrosia’ that has claimed over fifty lives in Detroit last month. It’s highly addictive, incredibly potent, and able to be administered in a number of different ways.
Word on the street is that he’s releasing a newer, better one in two months’ time. ”
I listened with my characteristic emotionless mask on, forcing myself to focus on the information rather than the hurricane of mixed emotions raging through me. As much as I hated the idea of playing nice with Colt Dixon, I was part of something way bigger than myself. Astronomically bigger.
Le Chimiste didn’t make the drugs, not exactly.
His specialty was tweaking them. Enhancing them.
Modifying them. Whatever you wanted to call it, he did it.
If a drug dealer in Cleveland or Chicago wanted bigger profits, he sent his product to Le Chimiste for “perfecting.” His reputation was far-reaching enough that every drug-related crimes agent in the northeastern United States had heard of him—without knowing who he really was, of course. Not until recently.
McBride continued, “Our sources indicate that Gauthier is behind the recent spike in drug abuse and deaths in the last five years, specifically in Detroit and Windsor, Canada. We’ve been gathering intel for the past three years but have yet to get any hard evidence that links Le Chimiste to the drugs in any way.
” He met my eyes with a brief nod. “Now that we know his real identity, we’ve combed through every receipt, tax return, and social media post we can find. ”
Max grinned and shot me a thumbs up, a stark contrast to Colt’s brooding face. At least Colt wasn’t smug at the moment. For once.
“His business books are impeccable, so we can’t even nail him for tax-related charges.
” McBride clicked to the next photo, showing Gauthier surrounded by a group of beefy men.
Each of them differed widely in ethnicity and appearance, save for the fact they could all crush a watermelon with their bare hands.
“Whenever he’s in public, he’s surrounded by five different bodyguards—four of whom are suspected to be on loan from various cartels and gangs around the nation who use Gauthier’s services.
We have only recently found a potential opening in his security we can exploit.
We will do this by sending in two agents—Piper and Dixon—undercover.
Hopefully, they will be able to get close enough to get evidence against Gauthier before his next cocktail drug hits the streets. ”
Heads nodded in understanding, rippling through the conference room like a wave. The next photo on the screen showed a harried Gauthier exiting the hospital next to a petite blonde with a barely-noticeable baby bump. Flanking them on all sides was his security entourage. Always there.
Always.
“Our surveillance indicates that the only time Gauthier won’t be surrounded is during his wife’s Lamaze classes.”
My stomach sank with the unmistakable feeling that this assignment just got a whole lot more complicated.
I didn’t know jack squat about Lamaze, short of it being a birthing class, and I wouldn’t need Colt with me if I was going undercover as the instructor, anyway.
Was this what McBride had wanted to tell me before the assistant special agent in charge had interrupted?
McBride shot me another glance, and I swear his frown looked a little guilty. “Piper and Dixon will be undercover as a married couple attending the same class.”
The blood drained from my face. Yep. Suspicions confirmed. This was going to suck.
Colt arched a brow, and the corner of his mouth quirked into his smug little smirk. I’d almost give him an award for going three whole minutes without wearing it, but I was too busy going through my own personal crisis. The medal would have to wait.
A variety of reactions swept through the room, from Max’s polite attempt to hide his smile, to Rowan’s sympathetic grimace, to Alec’s blatant amusement at this development, but I barely noticed them.
My attention was locked on my fake husband and the gleeful sparkle in his eyes.
Not only would I be his fake wife, but I’d be fake-pregnant while doing it.
And I’d already agreed.
Lex’s final words: Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. Let those words appear on my tombstone. Spoken with a well-meaning sense of duty and honor, sure, but they were still my downfall, nonetheless.
Worse yet, I wouldn’t back down even knowing these new details. Yeah, I’d like to stick it to Colt—who was undoubtedly waiting for me to back out—but what I wanted even more was to take Le Chimiste down once and for all. Whatever it takes .
Even my dignity, apparently.
“They will be deep undercover, so there will be complete radio silence from them until they either succeed or fail, save for encrypted communication between Dixon and myself through his cover job.” McBride panned slowly around the room. “Any questions?”
My hand itched to shoot upward, to ask if anyone else would take Colt’s place.
But it didn’t. Upending your life and going deep undercover for any amount of time was already complicated as far as relationships went, but for a potential two months?
No wonder McBride had chosen the two Single Pringles on the squad.
That was one less relationship to worry about, and I wasn’t about to ask any of my engaged or married squad mates to make that sacrifice.
When no one said anything, McBride dismissed everyone, save for Colt and me.
“It will be your responsibility to know your covers inside and out. Your first names will remain the same, but you two will be Alexandrine and Colt Martin, an accountant and dance instructor who recently moved to the city. More details are in these files.” He handed us each a manilla folder and glanced at his phone screen.
“Now wait here while I accompany an old friend up. She’ll be helping us out with the whole ‘pregnant’ thing. ”
He paused in the doorway before he left, shaking out his shoulders and smoothing back his hair.
Weird.
I would’ve asked Colt if he’d noticed McBride’s strange behavior, but that would’ve implied that we were friends capable of small talk. Plus, I could practically feel the energy vibrating off him as he stared from across the table with that smug look.
My hackles raised even more than they naturally did in his presence, and my voice had a bit more bite than I intended. “What?”
Sure enough, the question burst out of him like water through a firehose. “ Alexandrine ?”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, looking out the window. Anywhere but at him. Of all the material he had to work with after that brief, he chose to go after my name instead. “If you ever call me that, I’ll replace all your folders with plain manilla ones.”
He held his hands up in a mock surrender, though the amused twist of his lips betrayed his real thoughts on the matter. “I just found my pregnant wife’s name to be… unique , is all.”
“Yeah, well, at least I’m not named after a gun.”
Granted, that would’ve been way cooler than my namesake’s sad history, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I’m flattered you’d assume that rather than the horse, which is much more on-brand for you.”
I rolled my eyes, comfortable in the knowledge that no one else in the squad would see such a juvenile reaction.
“There’s a shock: Colt feels flattered .
As if you don’t already believe your presence is a gift to all humankind.
Truly, I’m amazed you can fit that big head of yours through your starched shirts every morning. ”
“Well, they are button-ups, which I’m sure is a foreign concept given your fashion sense.”
I finally looked away from the window to spare him a glance. “You’re right. Being buttoned up is foreign to me. Probably because I actually know how to have fun.”
“Do you?” His dark eyes panned down my entirety, disregarding the fact that the conference table obstructed at least half of me from view. “Last I checked, your evenings were spent here filling out reports and sorting through files.”
“You say that like that isn’t your textbook definition of a wild night.” I fluttered my eyelashes at him oh-so-innocently and flipped my hair over my shoulder. “I didn’t realize you paid so much attention to how I spend my nights, Colt.”
He tracked the motion with his eyes before curving his full lips into a frown. “Kicking puppies and yelling at waiters, you mean?”
My jaw dropped open. Insinuating I was rude to food service workers for fun was a new low, even for him. And kicking puppies? I wasn’t a monster .
Voices neared before I could think of a reply, and a small, wiry woman carrying a massive box swept into the room, followed by a conspicuously rosy-cheeked McBride.
She wore a sunshine-yellow jumpsuit with the most dramatically flared sleeves and pant legs I’d ever seen, and it complemented her brown skin beautifully.
Her hair was held at bay by a matching scarf, forming a halo of gray curls around her head, and a pair of round spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose.
“Hello, my dears,” she sang, plopping the box onto the table.
Colt and I had stood at her arrival, and she wasted no time pulling us into a hug, which thankfully only lasted an awkward second before we were released. Just enough time to get squished up against Colt, who was as rigid as I was, and remember why I wasn’t a hugger in the first place.
“I’m Hattie Jamison.” She beamed at the both of us, her eyes twinkling as she tapped the side of her nose. “You two must be the ones in need of makeovers.”
I elbowed Colt in the side, satisfied at the little grunt he involuntarily released at the action. “Unless you’re a miracle worker, I’m afraid this one is a lost cause.”
“She’d have to be a miracle worker to work with you,” he quipped, smiling sunnily and extending his hand to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Special Agent Colt Dixon, and this is my colleague, Lex Piper.”
I would’ve appreciated the fact he hadn’t taken the opportunity to use my full name now that he knew it, but I wasn’t fooled into thinking he’d done it out of kindness. I’d threatened his color-coded folders. He knew what was at stake.
And then there was the fact I was still reeling from seeing Colt smile. And, you know, being nice . I’d seen him do it to countless others before, but with how little I saw it directed at me, I often forgot he was capable of it.
Hattie stepped back, obviously looking Colt over from head to toe as she let out a low whistle. “My, aren’t you a looker!”
An involuntary strangled sound escaped from the back of my throat, which I smoothly disguised by clearing my throat and muttering something about allergies. McBride frowned at Hattie, who smiled knowingly at me while Colt raised a dubious brow.
Perhaps I wasn’t as smooth as I’d thought.
The knowing look in Hattie’s eyes was driving me up the wall, though, and had to be corrected immediately. Whatever she thought she knew, it was wrong.
I straightened my shoulders and pasted on a smile that could rival the crazed one the security guard had been subjected to on my first day here. “Well, he just has to look like an accountant, which he clearly doesn’t need any help with. So, I believe I’m the one who needs your expertise.”
Her gaze lingered on Colt, taking in his pressed shirt, pleated pants, and shined shoes.
She then panned to me, slowly assessing me from head to toe just like she’d done to him.
I shifted my weight uneasily before crossing my arms to keep my hands from fidgeting.
Hattie had a way of stripping you down to your soul with a single look in a way I’d never experienced, and I wasn’t entirely sure I liked whatever she saw.
Finally, a wicked gleam lit her dark eyes. “You’ve got a lot going for you, too, Lexi girl. You won’t need as much work as you think.”
“It’s Lex. Just Lex.”
She shrugged at my correction, completely unbothered.
“Well, Lex, while I’m sure Mr. Accountant over here would prefer to do things” —she wiggled her eyebrows— “ organically , time isn’t on our side here.
So you get the next best thing.” She spread her arms wide and struck a pose, her flared sleeves adding to the drama. “Me.”