Chapter 15 #3
For a fraction of a second, Rhys and Gaby looked at each other. Their shared smile happened so fast, anyone not watching would have missed it. Then it was gone. It was the ease of two people who trusted each other completely.
Leland allowed himself to imagine what that might feel like, for just a second before he buried it where everything else went.
Alec pushed off from the table. “Callan. Bring up the Miami Beach club.”
The screen came alive with blueprints and stills of the Driftwood’s interior.
“Here’s how this works,” Alec said. “Gaby goes in, new to the scene. Quiet. Alone. She doesn’t know all the rules yet, but she’s curious. Watching more than participating.”
“She’ll need to get noticed,” Mateo said.
“She will,” Rhys cut in. “I’m going in too.” His tone allowed no room for debate. “I’ll be unattached and observing,” he continued. “Someone who looks like he’s evaluating the club. That won’t raise suspicion.”
Alec nodded. “And gives you the freedom to intervene.”
“I’ll be close enough to step in if she needs it.”
“Right,” Alec continued, plotting as he moved around the room. “Later, if he doesn’t approach naturally, you can create competition, which might draw the unsub out.”
Gaby nodded. “That should work. I’ll be approachable but not openly inviting.”
Beside her, Rhys said nothing.
Leland watched his friend. Outwardly calm and controlled. Inside, hating every part of the plan. His only visible reaction, his hand curling into a fist on the table. He’d do it for the mission, but he’d break rules, and heads, if it kept her safe.
With that settled, Dev moved on. “Communication?”
“Discreet comms,” Callan said. “Wearable. Low-profile.”
Gaby’s focus was elsewhere. “Show me the victims again.”
The photos came up one by one. Leland had already seen them. Didn’t need to again. They reminded him too much of someone.
Gaby studied them longer than anyone else had. “Hair,” she said finally. “They all have long, straight blonde hair.”
“The first didn’t,” Alec reminded her.
“No,” Gaby agreed. “But the recent ones do. If that’s his type, I’ll need to go to the salon.”
Rhys eyed the glossy brown spiral curls he liked so much but said nothing.
Another silence settled. Dev let it sit just long enough. “Cover identities?”
Callan was prepared for those, too. “Names, histories, digital trails.” His fingers moved over the keyboard as he spoke.
“Social profiles, employment, basic background, a few believable online breadcrumbs. Their security is practically nonexistent. Nothing too heavy, which will be faster, but enough to stand up to a casual search. I doubt they even do that.”
“How much time do you need?” Dev asked.
“Forty-eight hours.”
“Do it.”
Callan nodded.
“Rhys. You should watch your accent,” Rafe suggested. “It stands out, especially to the women.”
No one else had thought of that, but it was spot-on advice. They all nodded, except Rhys.
He frowned. “What accent? I’m as American as you are.”
Gaby reached over and patted his hand. “Of course you are, dear.”
Rhys exhaled. “Bloody hell.”
A few quiet chuckles moved around the table as he proved Rafe’s point.
Dev refocused on business, voice cutting through cleanly. “Michael. Boone. You’re going in too. As bouncers.”
“Don’t you mean monitors?” Michael asked.
“This place isn’t that nuanced,” Alec said dryly.
A glance passed between the two men. Boone muttered, “A kink club that can’t tell the difference. This should be a boatload of fun.”
“You control entry and exit,” Dev continued. “No one gets through without being identified.”
“Got it,” Michael acknowledged.
Dev’s attention shifted again. “Leland. You’re on surveillance with Callan. You’ve got eyes on everything.”
Not the control room but the control van. He looked down at his fading bruises and had to figure that was deliberate. Dev, as usual, had read him correctly. He didn’t like it, but he needed to be in the van right now.
“If it goes wrong, you pull them out. No hesitation. No delay.” That went without saying, but Dev evidently saw the need to.
“Understood.” His eyes went to Gaby before shifting to Rhys. “Protection is priority.”
Anna, Mara, Isabel, and Faith had been alone and vulnerable. The perfect prey. That wasn’t happening to Gaby.
“Questions?” Dev asked. When no one spoke, he nodded and stood. “We give Callan his forty-eight to prepare then move in.”
Chairs creaked as bodies rose. Only he and Callan, still working, remained.
The images were still up. Three blondes and a petite brunette.
Gaby was stepping into the role of every woman on that screen.
He didn’t like it. Not because he doubted his team, but because of the risk to someone he’d come to care about.
The need to protect hit hard enough to feel physical.
And worse—it reminded him of the one person he most wanted to keep safe, and of the choice he wouldn’t take back.
He pushed to his feet so suddenly that a pen rolled across the table and hit the floor. Callan’s eyes flicked up, questioning. Leland felt the edge of his temper too close to the surface. Before he made a bigger ass of himself than he already had, he stalked out without a word.