Into the Light (Arcane Connections #1)

2. Chapter 1

Adam

I wish I had a countdown until I could kill these fuckers.

Killing has never been in my job description, but this group is especially on my last nerve.

My mission has always been going after the artifacts and priceless pieces of history, but hell, the Cano Cartel has its hands way deeper.

Everything seems to be covering up what I actually need.

Without proof or recovering the artifacts, I’ll be here for far longer than the ten months I’ve already been.

A sigh leaves me as the men who work for Oscar Cano’s drug side of the business drone on and on about the ass they got last night at the strip club.

Going undercover used to be fun. Well, maybe not fun but exhilarating.

It used to fuel my need for adrenaline and would help catch really shitty men at the same time.

A win-win. Now? I miss my friends. I miss my family even though my four sisters are each a pain in the ass.

I miss the freedom of doing whatever I want.

Hell, I’m missing my only niece grow up.

“What about you, Chris? You get any ass last night? You left awfully quick,” Oscar Cano’s second-in-command, Nico, asks me with a sneer.

He doesn’t like me, never has, but his boss does, so he is forced to put up with me.

I’ve been watching my back around him for the ten months I’ve been undercover—I think he’s the only one with ties to the artifact side of the cartel—and if I’m honest, it feels like the tension between us is about to snap.

Christopher Roth. A name I’m ready to put to rest. But the Cano Cartel is taking their sweet-ass time with this “huge shipment of something new” they’ve got coming in.

I was supposed to be off the case three months ago when we first got word of said shipment.

“We” being the U.S. Marshals team I work on.

We expected the stolen artifacts to come a few weeks after I got word of it.

Now, I’m twiddling my thumbs, watching Nico so he doesn’t stab me in the back and waiting for word that the shipment is physically at the dock.

It was never supposed to be this complicated.

I should already have these damn artifacts in hand, but no.

It’s like Oscar has been biding his time, making sure he can trust me before fully pulling me into this side of the business.

Not that I can truly blame him, but dammit, I’m so done with this shit.

“Nah, called it a night early,” I tell Nico.

“What are you, a fucking saint? I ain’t never heard of someone refusing some nice, juicy cunt like you do.”

“Just wasn’t feeling it. Damn, man. It’s not like you’re around me 24/7 and know if I’m having sex or not. Why are you so obsessed with my dick?” I can’t help but take up the opportunity to needle him.

His cronies giggle like schoolgirls before he shoots them a look. Yeah, it seems they are starting to come around to me.

“Man, shut the fuck up. I don’t even know why Oscar keeps you around. You ain’t done shit except run your mouth.”

“Are you questioning the way I run my business?” Oscar’s commanding voice echoes in the warehouse we were all called to meet at.

“Nah, just giving ol’ Chris here a hard time,” Nico says.

I barely refrain from rolling my eyes.

“Well, if you two are done gabbing, we’ve got a meeting to have.”

Nico and I bow our heads in apology.

Oscar continues. “You both need to be at Bella’s tonight. I have a small shipment coming through there, and I need to make sure it stays discreet. Nico, bring Chris into the fold.”

I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes. Sure, we go to Bella’s a lot.

It’s the strip club Oscar owns after all, but we’ve never had anything except money run through the club.

The Cano Cartel deals in drugs and artifacts—a strange combination, but Oscar makes bank, so who’s to argue with his methods.

The drugs distract from his high roller artifact business, or so I’ve pieced together.

He’s been lying low for so damn long; me going undercover was our last-ditch effort to get some real evidence on him or recover a few high-priority items—hopefully both.

But having Nico show me the ropes of this side of the business is exactly what I need to happen right now.

“And once we’re done with that, we can test drive the ladies, right?” Nico is damn near salivating.

He’s the first one I’m going to kill. Maybe strangle him so it takes longer. Deep cuts so he bleeds out?

I shake my head clear of those murderous ideas and refocus. Maybe I’ve been undercover too long if my thoughts are taking such a turn. I’m usually the awkward one in my everyday life, but for some reason, I can play a role like nobody’s business.

“No, and if I get word that any of you have ‘test driven’ any of them, you know the consequences.” Oscar’s tone leaves nothing in question even if his face is still eerily even. His policy has always been to not shit where you eat.

“I was just joking around, Boss.” Nico cowers, properly chastised.

Oscar stares at him, not saying anything.

I clear my throat, hoping this doesn’t backfire on me considering Oscar’s mood. This is the first time I’ve been brought into the fold of what I’m actually after. I need to take advantage because running drugs is getting old.

“Are we immediately transferring them here? Or are we delivering them somewhere else?” I ask, using every ounce of my training to disguise the disgust I feel even asking those questions.

“Once they are delivered, Nico will show you how we do things. Then they’ll get handed over to Chris.

And you”—he directs his intense stare at me—“will deliver them to my apartment the next morning,” Oscar replies with his no-nonsense tone.

His bespoke suit doesn’t belay the danger he exudes.

A scar across his chin is the only mark on his otherwise aristocratic features.

“Got it.” I nod, folding my arms over my chest and digging my fingers into my biceps where he can’t see.

He leaves as quickly as he came, leaving me alone with Nico and his dumb-shit followers.

I don’t wait for him to say anything; instead, I walk out the door. I’m sure Nico will have loads to bitch about to me, and at me, later. But for now, it’s fucking showtime.

The music is obnoxiously loud tonight. The booth I’m sitting in is off to the side; Nico is front and center because he wanted the “best view”, leaving me to contemplate how much longer I can do this.

I’ve always been the undercover man. In my sixteen-year stint with the U.S.

Marshals, I’ve thrived on infiltrating the worst of the worst situations.

Creating different personas is a skill I’m damn good at.

But ten months is a long time for me. Our goal is to arrest the drug dealers, the traffickers of goods, and once I’m in the inner circle, that usually moves quickly.

Not this time, though. The longer I stay in this fucked-up world of Oscar Cano, the more I fear I’ll lose myself to the evil for good.

Maybe I just need to call it a day once this is finally over. If it’s ever over.

I’m sure Kellen Woodcroft, my friend and leader of his own fugitive task force under the U.S. Marshals umbrella, would have a spot for me on the team in some other capacity. Although, paperwork sounds like my version of hell.

“Next up on stage is Nova,” the announcer calls, pulling me from thoughts of my future and reminding me of my assignment.

My attention turns to the stage, lit up with purple and pink lights, as the deep bass of the next song pumps through the speakers.

The first thing I spot are legs as long as the eye can see.

They slowly reveal bikini bottoms covered in sequins that the lights bounce off of.

The next act—Nova—finally steps fully out onto the stage, leaving my brain completely blank.

My assignments, both with the Marshals and Cano, are no longer pounding in the back of my skull.

They’re replaced with the vision on stage.

Fifties-style pin-up hair, which I can’t tell the color of with the lights on her, leads to perfect bright-red lips.

Her dark eyes captivate and draw me in because it almost looks like she’s assessing the room.

Most dancers here have blank stares. They can engage the room, but there’s no life to their eyes.

It’s why I never come here unless I’m specifically requested to. It’s unnerving.

Not Nova, though. She’s taking in every inch of the room. She glances at every face like she’s mentally clocking all the scumbags in here. When her eyes reach me, I hold her stare. She faulters for only a moment before resuming her sensual dance.

I tilt my head—a sort of question, if you will. What are you looking for, Nova baby?

Her hands rise above her head, then trail down her cheeks to her chest as her hips swivel to the beat. I can’t look away. I can’t even pretend there are other people here, which is bad news for my actual job.

When she bends at the waist, dipping down before rolling her lush, curvy body up, the break in eye contact forces me to refocus.

Shit. The last thing I need right now is a distraction. I look around, seeing that there isn’t a single person who isn’t looking at the stunner on the stage.

Nico is damn near drooling as he leans forward, trailing his finger up her leg when she gets closer. I jolt in my seat, standing up before I even realize I’m doing it. The table next to mine shoots me a dirty look, so I toss my hand up to placate them before flagging down a waitress.

“Tequila on the rocks,” I order. No niceties, no “please” or “thank you”.

I can’t. In order to be a believable dealer and higher-up in Cano’s circle, all politeness goes out the window.

I also rarely drink on the job. I can almost always find a way to get soda water with lime. Tonight it feels needed, though.

Nova.

What the hell is she doing in a place like this?

Does she know who owns this club? Usually, the only women who are strippers here are the ones who owe Oscar money.

They or their families. Nova doesn’t fit somehow.

I’m not sure why. I know nothing about her, sure, but there’s no clear desperation on her face, no look that says she’s barely surviving and ready to end it all.

There’s confidence in Nova that I haven’t noticed in any of the women I’ve ever seen at Bella’s before. It’s intoxicating. Intriguing. It makes me curious as hell. And that’s a bad thing.

I can’t be curious about anyone right now.

If I get curious, I’ll want to save them and, realistically, I can’t save them all.

I had to come to terms with that early on in my career.

It almost cost me more than my job, leaving me with a nasty scar running along the length of my back—forever a reminder to stay on task, to keep to my objective.

As if it knows my mind is straying, the long-healed scar starts to itch—a subconscious reaction to being so far from my duty.

My attention turns back to the stage. Nova now has her top off, but unlike every other woman who performs here, she has pasties covering her nipples.

They’re glittery, like her bottoms, and no one seems to mind that she’s still keeping some semblance of modesty.

But I notice. Another tick in the abnormality that is this woman.

There may not be time to talk to her backstage, but I’m going to try. It’s reckless, stupidity of epic proportion, to talk to her and find out why she’s here. It has the potential of blowing my cover, and I never risk blowing my cover. Plus, I’m supposed to be collecting artifacts, dammit.

But there’s something about Nova. Something in her eyes that tells me there’s a reason she’s here out of the norm. If nothing else, maybe I can tip her off to get the fuck out of here before she ends up somewhere much worse.

I may not be able to save them all, but just maybe I can save one.

“Who are you liking tonight?” Oscar’s voice pulls me out of my very dangerous thinking.

“Got some new ones. They look interesting. Different from the usuals,” I say in a bored tone.

“Vinny did some recruiting the other week. Seems he did well.”

I nod, hoping the fact that I’m grinding my teeth isn’t noticeable.

“You’ve been good to me the last few months,” he continues. “I’d like you to spearhead the next artifact shipment once you learn the ropes.”

I keep my body very still. I can’t tense up or show any sort of emotion to his words, even if every molecule in my body screams at me to run to call Kellen.

“I’d be honored.” I bow my head in acceptance instead. This may be the big break we need. The thing that allows me to call in the calvary and end this once and for all.

“I need you to keep this to yourself for the time being. Nico has been distracted by the flashy things that come with position, and it’s becoming … problematic.”

I nod. It may be a test, but it’s one I plan to pass.

“Once this set is over, the artifacts will be delivered shortly. Make sure Nico is timely. You’ll be in charge of bringing the items to my apartment.”

My stomach churns with all the new doors that have been opened.

“I’ll discuss it more with you then.” Then he’s gone.

My eyes frantically clock the exits—a nervous habit from back when I started in this job.

Front, back through the dressing rooms, side door that leads to the ally.

I repeat that a few times as my eyes track each one.

Once my breathing settles, I look back at the stage to see Nova finishing up her routine.

Her eyes latch onto mine once more, and instead of confidence, I see anger.

Pure rage radiates from her, throwing me for a loop.

When she heads off the stage, I stand and follow her to the back.

I have to look for whomever is delivering the artifacts anyway, so I might as well make it seem like I’m out for something more nefarious. Hopefully, I can catch a glimpse of them in the back hallway while making it seem like I’m just having an innocent conversation with one of the dancers.

Tonight, real progress begins.