Chapter 13
Agent X
Another meeting. Another damn room full of suits.
I sit stiffly across from three of them, the table between us a sterile slab of metal, the kind that makes everything feel colder. They're flipping through a dossier, one I compiled and handed over myself, but watching them dissect my work makes my stomach churn.
The lead agent, Thompson, clears his throat. "Your surveillance of the building adjacent to Club Red picked up this individual."
He slides a still photo across the table. It’s a man entering the building. Tall, dark hair, sunglasses, no expression.
"That's Mase's guy," I say, leaning forward. "Name's Lucien. No priors. Just enough of a ghost to make him dangerous. He's muscle for Mase, but I haven't seen him operate directly inside Club Red before."
Another agent, McDaniel, jots notes while eyeing me over his glasses. "What's the connection? You think Mase is using Club Red as a front?"
"Too soon to say. Lucien was in the building for less than five minutes. Walked in alone. Walked out alone. No obvious contact, but there are blind spots. He could've met with someone discreetly."
Thompson leans back, fingers steepled. "We've had Mase's family on our radar for over a decade. Narcotics, trafficking, racketeering. Every time we get close, he vanishes. If he's moving through that building, we need to know why."
"It's possible he's testing the waters," I offer. "Seeing if there's potential for laundering or recruiting. Could also be unrelated."
"We don't think so," the third agent, Delgado, speaks up. "We've seen similar patterns in other cities. Short visits, minimal contact, same people. Then six months later, someone ends up dead. Or missing."
"So, you want me to shift focus? From Club Red to Mase?"
Thompson nods. "Officially, yes. Mase is now the bureau's top priority in this region. But you've got the intel on Club Red. If there's overlap, we need to leverage that. Find the back door."
It's not what I wanted to hear. Club Red has been my mission for years. But if Mase is the thread that unravels the whole operation, I'll pull it.
"What do you need from me?" I ask.
"Intel. Every movement. Every whisper. We want to know who's talking to who and why."
"You'll have it."
McDaniel closes the file. "And Agent? Be careful. Mase plays for keeps."
I nod once and push away from the table.
Back in my car, I strip off my tie and toss it in the passenger seat. I drive with the window down, letting the wind slap the frustration out of me. If they want more, they'll get more. But I'm not giving up on Club Red just because the Bureau's focus shifted.
I stop by my apartment, change into something less formal, then head to the liquor store and a hole-in-the-wall taco place before driving down to the underground spots I know best.
The first couple of stops give me the usual gossip. Who's fucking who. Who got banned from which club. None of it useful.
But the third source, an old contact named Striker, leans in when I ask about Club Red.
"You hear about what happened with Dustin?" he asks.
I shake my head. "No."
He just stares at me, then his eyes dart down to my hands. He has info, but he isn't willing to share unless I have something for him. I've worked with Striker before. If he is asking for something in return, then it's good.
I open the passenger side of my car and pull out his favorite bottle of alcohol, and his eyes light up.
"Guy lost his shit. Went all stalker on one guy's fiancée. Ex-boyfriend who couldn't take a hint. Creeped everyone out. Club shut it down fast."
"What happened to him?"
"Club Red handled it. Quietly. No cops. Just... dealt with. Word on the street, they got him out of the state. If he crosses the state line again, it's his life on the line."
"And the girl?"
"Protected. Whole team moved in. Therapy. Security. She's safe."
That doesn't line up with what I've been told. Club Red's supposed to be the heart of the corruption. Greedy. Dangerous. Above consequence.
"That's out of character," I say.
Striker leans back, arms crossed, and stares again. I sigh and pull out the bag of tacos. He takes the bag and looks in it before looking at me again.
"Is it? Or is that just the version you were told to believe?"
I frown, unsettled. "You're saying they actually care?"
"I'm saying they might not be what you think. There are rules there. Lines they don't cross.”
"That doesn't fit the narrative."
Striker raises an eyebrow. "Then maybe it's time to rewrite the narrative."
I leave with more questions than answers. Maybe the club is changing. Maybe they're hiding it better. Or maybe I've been wrong.
But if Mase is sniffing around, there's something worth finding. And I'm going to be the one who finds it.
No matter what it costs.