Chapter 16 #2
He didn’t look like Vander Norcross. He looked like a rich, European playboy, back from a month sunning himself in the south of France.
Vander scowled. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“A dress. A dress a young woman going to a hot nightclub would wear.”
“You armed?”
She smiled and lifted the heel of her stiletto to show the long spike. Then she opened the small, sparkly bag on her shoulder to show her SIG. She’d wedged it into the bag.
“You look ridiculously hot,” she told him.
“You look ridiculously fuckable.”
That gave her a sweet shot of heat through the belly. “Then let’s get this done and come back here. I’m looking forward to seeing your bed.”
* * *
Vander couldn’t seem to find his usual sense of calm before this mission. He parked the X6 several blocks from the Cathedral club.
Brynn was already climbing out.
He circled the vehicle, his gaze running over her.
Hell, he was half hard, and had been since she’d walked out in that tiny, sparkly dress.
It was gray-blue and covered in silver shimmer.
It had long sleeves, but that was the only thing remotely demure about it.
Its plunging neckline showcased her spectacular breasts, and the hemline was so short he hoped she didn’t bend over.
She cocked her head, smiling with those red, red lips. She wore a wig—a sleek, black bob with bangs. Her eyes were smudged with dark color, her cheekbones looked sharp. She looked like a beautiful party girl out for a big night.
It wasn’t just the outfit, or lack of it. It was the way she held herself. Shifting on her heels, smiling, flicking at her earrings and cocking her hip. An impatient woman with energy to burn on the dance floor.
She looked nothing like sensible, dedicated Detective Brynn Sullivan.
Damn, she was good.
“I much prefer the lethal, ex-military, badass-in-a-suit look, but your European playboy thing has some merit.” She pressed a hand to his chest.
He raised a brow.
She leaned closer. “The glasses are hot .”
Vander kissed her and then took her hand. They walked down the street.
There was a long line to get into the club, and lights strobed. He heard the faint throb of music from inside. It was Saturday night and people were out to party.
“We head in, split up, and look around.” She leaned her shoulder against him like she was whispering sweet nothings. “If you see Hunt, pretend you don’t know him.”
“I’m good at sneaking around,” Vander murmured. Albeit, usually in darkness, with a gun in his hand.
He slid the bouncer at the door a hundred so they could skip the lineup. The asshole was too busy eyeing Brynn’s cleavage to say much.
Then they were inside.
It was as bad as he’d imagined. Garish lights blinked and strobed. The place was packed with gyrating bodies, and the music was a deafening throb.
“Come on.” Brynn yanked him forward.
They waded into the crush, heading toward the long, sleek, black bar. It had lights running along it, and they changed colors with the beat of the music. He saw Brynn scanning both the staff and guests.
She leaned in and he smelled her. Her perfume tickled the edge of his senses. She shifted and rubbed against him. Damn, she dissolved his control.
“We’ll split up,” she said. “I’ll peruse the dance floor. You check out the tables and seating areas.”
He squeezed her hip, and pressed his lips to her ear. “Be careful. No heroics, Detective.”
She winked at him, then spun. He watched the sway of her hips in that tiny dress until the crowd swallowed her.
Vander did a walk-through. There were plenty of people drinking at the sleek, backless chairs and tables. A few people were undoubtedly high, but he saw no signs of drugs.
He did spot Saxon. The man was leaning against a high table, wearing a bright red shirt. Vander leaned on the other side of the table.
“Rhys and I cleared the upper floors,” Saxon said.
Vander’s gut said that the shipment was coming from the bottom level, but they had to rule everything out.
“Keep watch.” He scanned for Brynn. He spotted Hunt in the crowd. The man was more dressed up than usual, and he didn’t scream “cop”, but unlike Brynn, he didn’t quite transform into partygoer.
Vander kept looking around. One of the other undercover cops sat at the bar.
“Rhys slipped into the kitchen,” Saxon said. “He should be back soon.”
Vander lifted his chin. Where the hell had Brynn gone?
“Well, your woman’s got some moves,” Saxon said.
Vander followed his best friend’s gaze, and his gut cramped. Under a spotlight in the center of the packed dancefloor, he saw her. The lights flickered and changed colors with the beat of the music and caught the sparkles of her dress.
Her sky-high heels only made her toned legs seem even longer. She had her arms in the air, moving to the beat, and that brought several more inches of sleek thigh into view. She was seriously risking showing everyone her underwear.
And he wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
Men, and a couple of women, watched her like circling sharks.
Lust coiled, hot and turbulent in Vander’s gut. A guy with platinum-blond hair and white, white teeth moved in, sidling in behind Brynn.
Fuck, no.
Vander pushed off the table and heard Saxon laugh.
As he stalked forward, the crowd parted for him. One look at his face and people hustled out of his way.
The blond man tried to touch Brynn, but she whipped around and shoved him. The guy lifted his head, and that’s when he spotted Vander. He froze like a very small animal sensing a predator entering the room.
Before Vander had even reached for the guy, Brynn stepped forward. She leaned against Vander, much taller in her heels, and bit his earlobe.
“Don’t make a scene,” she warned.
He slid his hands down her body. “You shouldn’t have worn this dress.”
She slid against him, moving to the beat of the music…and totally ignored his comment.
“Have you seen anything?” she asked.
“No.” He nipped her jaw, then her lips. “You drive me crazy.”
“Good. I think you need some of that in your life.”
He spun her, so her back was pressed to his front. He didn’t dance. Ever. But he moved against her. His fingers played with the hem of her tiny dress and stroked her skin. He saw her lips part and she rubbed her ass against him. Minx .
He squeezed her thigh. “If you make me hard right now, then there will be payback.”
Her lips curled and she didn’t look concerned.
His phone vibrated and he pulled it out. He sensed her playful tease sharpen to alertness.
“It’s Ace.” Vander tilted the screen so she could read it.
Delivery truck bringing drinks in now.
“Let’s check it out,” she said.
Vander spotted Rhys by the dancefloor as they headed toward the kitchen.
“Hey!” Brynn threw her arms around Vander’s brother like he was a long-lost friend. “Long time, no see.”
Rhys patted her back, smiling. He glanced at Vander and raised an eyebrow.
They knew each other well enough to communicate without words.
You let her out in that dress?
Vander shrugged. I didn’t want to.
Rhys’ grin widened.
Vander curled an arm around her waist. “Drink delivery truck just arrived.”
“Yeah, the staff mentioned that,” his brother said. “Head honcho, Brownlee, one of the club owners, came down to check it was here. He was sweating and twitchy. The kitchen staff says he never comes down.”
Brynn bounced on her heels. “This is it.”
Vander jerked his head. “Let’s move.”
The three of them moved into the back hallway. Ahead, they saw two guys moving down the corridor carrying crates.
“Let me.” Brynn sauntered forward. “New drinks!” she cooed.
“Who are you?” A tall guy with a bald head scowled at her.
“Sabrina. I work the main floor.” Brynn fluffed her hair. “I’m parched. Let me—” She reached for a bottle.
The big guy slapped her hand away. “These aren’t for you.”
That was enough confirmation for Vander. He turned the corner and headed in their direction, Rhys behind him.
“Set the crates down, boys.” Brynn straightened.
“Piss off, bimbo,” the big guy said.
“Bimbo?” Brynn, whirled and punched the asshole in the gut.
It had to hurt, because he doubled over with a groan. The second guy froze.
The big guy stiffened, his face twisting. Vander sped up; the guy was a foot taller than Brynn.
But she swiveled, and kneed the guy between the legs. He made a wince-inducing sound.
Vander reached them, just as she rammed her heel into the guy’s leg. The big guy crumpled.
“And it’s Detective Bimbo to you,” she drawled.
“Bro, I know she’s yours, but I’m a little turned on right now,” Rhys said.
Vander shot his brother a look.
Brynn crouched, and Vander hoped her dress covered everything important. She took a bottle from the crate and held it up.
Floating in the liquid was a little plastic baggy filled with clear, crystal-like chunks.
“Who’s in charge of the delivery?” Vander asked.
The skinny second guy was frozen in fear. The big guy, still on the ground, spat out a curse.
Brynn lifted her heel again.
“Matias, he’s in the truck,” the small guy squeaked.
Just then, Hunt and his undercover officers burst into the hall. Saxon sauntered in after them.
“We’re heading to intercept the guy in charge at the truck,” Vander told them. “You got these guys?”
Hunt nodded.
“Product is in the bottles,” Brynn said.
She took off down the hall, jogging toward the loading dock.
When they stepped outside, Vander saw a guy leaning against the truck, smoking. When he spotted them, he tossed his cigarette butt, spun, and started to run.
Vander leaped off the dock. He slammed into the guy, grabbed him, and jerked him around. Vander rammed the man against the truck.
“Hey, what do you—?”
Vander punched him in the face, cutting off the splutters. “Where’s Nomad, Matias?”
The man’s gaze narrowed. “You’re Norcross.” His gaze shifted to Brynn. “And you must be the police detective that Nomad is raging about.” Matias grinned. There was blood on his teeth. “He wants you dead, Detective. And he wants to hurt you, first.”
Vander shoved the man, slamming his head back against the truck.
“He’s not afraid of you, Norcross.”
“Then he isn’t very smart. Where is he?”
“Don’t know.” The man glared at Vander belligerently.
“We’ll see.” Vander shoved the man at Rhys. “Put him in one of our holding cells.”
Rhys glanced at Brynn.
She studied Vander’s face, then nodded. “Take him. I’ll run interference with Hunt.”
“You walking into the gray, Detective?” Vander asked.
“No, I’m trusting you to help me get the job done.”