Page 39 of Colton’s Secret Identity

Dylan nodded. “He will go back underground, that’s a given. But right now we think Rex has messed up enough to draw Slim out. That’s when you and I make our move.”

“So I’m in this, with you, because of last night? Happenstance?” As much as she enjoyed working a case with a team of LEOs from all facets—local, state, federal and international, with RCMP—Veronica didn’t like to be an “extra.” She was used to running her own assignment, reporting only to the Stark County sheriff.

His head jerked back, his eyes widened. “You’re not along for the ride, Veronica.” He briefly closed his eyes, slowly shook his head. When he opened his eyes and looked at her again, chagrin was etched in the rueful twist of his lips. “We’ve been so caught up with running for our lives and planning our next moves that I guess I never mentioned that you’ve been assigned to me, as part of the task force’s MoU—Memorandum of Understanding—that Cal signed when we initiated the task force.”

“I know what an MoU is, Dylan.” She rolled her eyes but it was a theatrical gesture, not disdainful. “In order for me to leave my post with my PD and work with the task force, it all had to be done officially, so that I can report directly to the sheriff on the combined task force.” Another thought occurred to her. “So you’re officially reporting to Cal now, too, aren’t you?”

“Yes, mostly. Cal’s definitely the lead man on the task force as far as keeping all the moving parts from crashing into each other—”

“But ultimately FBI has jurisdiction. I get it.” She nodded. “And I appreciate it that you think enough of my abilities to bring me in on this last crucial piece.”

“It’s not just my observation, Veronica, and it’s not a professional favor, either. My entire team, including my supervisor, is aware of the intel you’ve been able to gather at Frisky and pass on to the sheriff’s department and the state troopers. Without your input, I would never have realized the opportunity to come in and shake things up between Rex and Slim.”

“Well, you’ve certainly done that.” She eyed him. His dark looks were in direct contrast to the backdrop of the clear blue lake, the endless sky. They each wore down puffer jackets against the cold breeze, but she much preferred being outside to the dank dark of Frisky.

“What is it?” Dylan didn’t miss anything; he must have seen her mood change in her expression.

“I’m glad to be out of that awful nightclub, to be honest. You know I love my job. I’ve never wanted to do anything else. Undercover is fun, or used to be. When I was a teen, becoming a cop seemed to me the best chance I had at getting out of the economical as well as emotional poverty my family had become stuck in. Mom did everything to keep it together for us, being a single mother with two growing girls. But when making ends meet is so close each month, it doesn’t take much for everything to blow up.”

“You mean how Tawny’s addiction spiraled?”

“Yes. Mom didn’t have the funds to send Tawny to the single rehab in town that could have even begun to help her, and Tawny needed to agree to getting help, which she never did. She needed to go out of state, away from her dealer, away from her ‘friends,’ who, by the way, are also all dead.” She shoved her hands into the deep pockets of the warm jacket, shivering—not from the cold air but the frigid reality of a generation lost to the drug scourge.

“But she tried anyway, paying out of pocket for whatever she thought might help Tawny. And Tawny, at the end…she stole from both Mom and me.” The memory of finding her ATM card missing, discovering that her bank account had been drained, still haunted her. “She even emptied my checking account. I was stupid and had picked a very obvious PIN for my ATM card. But, lucky for me, I managed to land a scholarship, so that wasn’t the worst of it.”

“You were in law enforcement only for the money?”

“That’s rhetorical, isn’t it? You know the answer. I love this work, Dylan. I can’t imagine doing anything else. It’s the same for you, I assume?”

He paused, and she held her breath. What was with his hesitation?

“Yes, I’m doing what I want to do. Yes, it’s what I see myself doing, in the long run. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it’s cost me connection with my family. If I hadn’t come back for this assignment, who knows when I would have seen them next? Since my parents’ divorce, it’s always easier to avoid my family of origin.”

“Do any of them besides Cal know you’re back?”

“Aiden, my twin, knows, and so does Wyatt—we spoke earlier,” he admitted, “but I’ve only seen Cal in person. Which reminds me, did you uncover anything else about Hannah Wexler and her time at Frisky?”

“Besides her being fired for her no-shows, the only other thing I figured out is that none of the girls want to talk about her. Meaning, I think they do remember her, of course they would—she was employed long enough, and her time there overlapped many of the current employees—but as is typical in an establishment like Frisky, most of the dancers and servers keep to themselves as much as possible.”

Dylan frowned. “Not surprising, especially since the previous manager disappeared, as I recall.”

“One of the servers told me that my predecessor left Frisky approximately two weeks before I was hired. She drove off in her personal vehicle, and all indications are that she flat-out quit. It makes me sick that Hank, or Rex, would have killed her, Dylan.”

“He tried to kill you last night.” A brief flicker of—fear?—an undefinable emotion in his irises, and damn it if her heart didn’t clench in response.

Stay strong. She had to stay detached from their past attraction. More like shut down the sexy vibes you’re sending now.

“I don’t need the reminder.” She stood and stretched, her muscles aching after sitting in the cold for so long. “Anything hot in the truck for lunch?”

They slept in watch rotations, four hours at a time. Dylan would have preferred to stay up all night, but common sense had prevailed. They each needed some solid shut-eye, and he had to do whatever it took to stay at the top of his game.

He sat in a camping chair next to the truck, their campfire down to glowing embers after Veronica had kept it going for warmth during her shift. She’d disappeared into the back of the cab at midnight, and he’d taken the night-vision goggles and handgun from her. There was another handgun and two rifles in the truck. Veronica was an expert shot; he wasn’t worried about her taking out any threat, four-legged or other.

One thing sitting out here alone, under endless pinpricks of white crystal lights against the black sky, gave him was clarity. About his place in the universe, sure, but also about recent events.

It didn’t make sense that Rex had shown up at Frisky again so soon after he’d agreed to Dylan’s terms for a collaboration. Rex had proven with one handshake that he was willing to skim from Slim’s profits, that he was willing to sell his superior out. It never failed to amaze Dylan just how quickly cartel members would flip. Almost always for the sake of the almighty dollar. The only other motive for cheating the hand that fed them occurred when they were threatened with jail time. Either going to prison for the first time, or risking a lifetime sentence.

Rex had zero problem switching sides, until last night. What had he found out about Veronica, aka Monique? Did he know she was undercover RGPD? Did he suspect Hawk wasn’t really a fellow kingpin wannabe?