“J, my man,” Decker booms standing up and pulling him in for a bear hug. “It's good to see you.”
“You too, Deck,” Justin replies, grinning from ear to ear.
Marlee and I stare at each other, but I can’t get a read on her. Her previously long chestnut hair has been dyed to a dusty blonde with platinum highlights. Those deep brown eyes of hers with the flecks of bronze in them shimmer in the flashing lights of the club and are as gorgeous as they’ve ever been, even if they’re brimming with shock and anger. I tear my gaze from hers to fix on Decker just as his attention moves to me. He stands and holds out his hand.
I meet his grip, shaking firmly. “The famous Aiden Lawrence. J here can't stop talking about you.”
Turning toward Justin, I shoot him a questioning look. “Got a crush on me or something, J?”
“Fuck off,” he scoffs, shoulder bumping me with a smirk.
Deck snickers. “Don't worry, your virtue is safe with this one. All he's been going on about is how good it is to have you here.”
“I’ve been here five days so it’s not like I’ve had a chance to solve world hunger or anything yet.”
Decker sits again and looks me up and down. “Don't need more than a few seconds to tell me whether I can trust a man or not. It's all about a vibe.” He looks down at my hand before meeting my eyes. “And the handshake. Since you've passed both checks, how about you sit and join me, J, and the lovely Quinn here for a drink.” He waves over to a server who has been standing sentry against a wall as if dutifully waiting to be summoned while Justin and I take our seats opposite Decker and Quinn.
“Sir?” the server says, her voice shaky.
“Lucy, right?” he says, with a charming smile. This guy knows how to work people. Then again, most criminal masterminds usually do.
“Ye—Yes sir.”
“We’ll have a round of drinks, Lucy. J here will have his usual whisky sour, and Quinn and I will have some of my Macallan double cask 18-year-old single malt.”
Marlee—Quinn—clears her throat and shakes her head. “Not tonight, Decker. I’ll stick to my wine thanks.”
He wings a brow, his lips curving up into a calculating smirk. “You can’t drink wine in my club, baby. You’re turning down my top whisky for wine? You wound me.”
She shrugs, looking like she doesn’t have a care in the world and won’t be rattled. “First, I’m no one’s baby. I've told you, Decker, this is business and business only. You know I'm not interested in being another blonde bimbo on your arm.”
Decker doesn’t look like a man who shies away from a challenge, and the flash in his gaze and his growing grin confirms it. Marlee knows what she’s doing though—whatever it is she’s doing. I can see the play from here. Reeling the man in by being hard to get, the total opposite of the simpering easy conquest a man like him can get without trying. Coming across as unobtainable is like Viagra to Decker. He could click his fingers and anyone he wants warming his bed. Wanting someone who isn’t a pushover—that will always get his attention.
I can tell she’s got a read on him already and knows that if you wave a red flag in front of this bull—or a beautiful woman who doesn’t fall to her knees at the sight of him—he can’t resist the challenge. It’s smart. It’s exactly the approach I’d suggest for an undercover op. I just wish I could find out why she’s here, what her angle is, and whether or not it’s going to have an effect on my own case.
“Business,” he scoffs. “I’ll wear you down one day.”
“A wasted effort.” Her mouth is just as seductive as the rest of her and like many a man before him—myself included—Decker James is the moth to Marlee’s bright and irresistible flame.
“How about you, Lawrence? You going to join me for a drink,” Decker asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Justin snorts. “Lawrence here doesn’t drink.” I chance a look at Marlee whose lips part slightly but otherwise, she schools her reaction perfectly.
Decker tilts his head as he stares at me intensely. “You in recovery? Because I can dig that.”
“Nah. Just like to keep my head clear when I'm on the clock. Made many a mistake when I have outside influences impairing my judgment. So I drink, just not when I’m working.”
“Good man. That doesn't mean you can't drink club soda or something. Sit, Lawrence.” When I sit next to him, he reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “And fucking relax, why don't you. I may be the boss but surely I’m not that scary. What do you think, baby?” he asks Marlee—Quinn.
Marlee’s features tighten and her eyes narrow on the man next to me. “I’m not your baby, Decker. It’s business, remember?” She punctuates her statement with a barely-there quirk of her ruby-painted lips and fuck if it doesn't have me thinking of all the times I had that exact teasing look pointed at me in the past. And how it ended up with us tangled in the sheets until morning most of the time.
He waves his hand in the air and snorts. “Yeah, you keep saying that, and yet you always turn up looking like sex personified. You know a man like me can’t deny a beautiful woman. You’re going to get me all distracted if I'm not careful.”
Decker is not dumb. But I can bet that’s exactly what Marlee was planning on. She knows exactly what she’s doing with him and with her outfit. She knows she’s not trying to get into Decker's bed, he doesn’t though. Within just a few minutes of knowing the man, I can already tell that his ego is one of his biggest weaknesses. He’s charming, sure. Smart, I have no doubt. I just don’t know what’s beneath the surface. I guess that’s my next challenge.
What I do know, whatever Marlee's angle is, I need to figure it out regardless.
With an ear to Decker and Justin's conversation, I take a deep breath and rest my hand against my drink, looking out over the club from the glass balcony next to us. It's one-way glass, ensuring the privacy of the VIPs but not shutting them out from the activities and entertainment below. It also means that there are a lot of things that go on up in this part of the club that would not fly on the ground level. Then again, there has to be perks given the simply eye-watering amount of money these people spend here.
“Everything going smoothly tonight?” Decker asks Justin.
“So far. It's been easygoing. No big disasters.”
“And the deliveries? No issues with inventory again? I know we had some missing items from the order the other day,” he continues.
Justin shakes his head. “Nah. Everything was as it should be.”
“Payments made?”
“Yes, D. Everything's running like clockwork. The distributors are happy. We're a well-oiled machine. Don't you think, Aiden?”
Turning toward the men, my gaze sweeps over Marlee to find her head down, eyes on her phone as she mindlessly scrolls through her messages, but I can tell she's listening. “I haven't seen any major hiccups since I've been here.”
Decker sends J a skeptical, some might say scathing look before he smooths his features and nods my way. “Did you accept J's offer to be his number two?”
“I'd be an idiot not to, Sir. I'm not about to turn down a chance like that.”
Decker grins. “I agree. But from all accounts, we're lucky to have you here too. And, please, call me Deck or D.” I jerk my chin up in agreement.
“Does that mean you're going to call me A like Hawk does?”
He laughs. “It's up to you what I call you 'cause you're the one who has to answer to it. A, Aiden, Lawrence, asshole. Whatever floats your boat. Just stick to the same name so at least everyone knows who the fuck we're talking about.”
“I figure we'll stick with Lawrence. It's what I'd was called back on the force and...” I wince, selling the web I'm weaving.
Deck dips his chin, understanding and an edge of something filling his gaze. “Lawrence it is.”
“Although Justin hasn’t really told me what I’ll be doing,” I add, looking the man's way.
Justin holds his hands up. “Don’t look at me like that and don’t go throwing me under the bus with the boss. I only asked you a few hours ago. Just you wait, you’ll have more work than you can handle soon. Then I can just sit back and live it up.”
Decker growls under his breath and I see Justin’s confidence falter. “There isn't any room for complacency at Marquis. Front of house or behind the scenes, it's all important. Every single part of the business is important. Right, J?” Decker's sharp tone cuts through the light mood in the booth.
It has me thinking that Decker is either emotionally attached to the club—financially too—or there's more to what he's talking about. Whatever it is, I need to know more. I guess that's where the new responsibilities I've been given should come in useful. For increased access if not anything else.
“Business is good, Deck. Very good. No issues. We've all got our eye on the ball. No worries. OK?” Justin says, very clearly and definitively.
My interactions with the man have got me a little off kilter because there's nothing I've seen about Decker so far that screams evil criminal mastermind. If I’d just met him on the street, I'm not sure he would've even pinged my radar. But I’ve met my fair share of wolves in sheep’s clothing so I’m not about to let this façade fool me.
The intel I got from the FBI contact is burned on my brain so I know he’s capable of horrific things. Marlee’s appearance has thrown an unexpected spanner in the works though. That’s a side bar I need to look into later.
Decker and Justin stare at each other for longer than necessary before obviously remembering they have company. “Ah,” Decker says, leaning back in the booth and spreading his arms wide, his fingers brushing against Marlee's bare shoulder. “Sorry, baby. I’m ignoring you.”
Marlee's head jerks up, her eyes narrowing as she moves out of his reach and gives the conversation her full attention. She was always one to take mental notes about anything and everything. It’s what makes her an amazing cop and I bet an even better detective. She's thorough, attentive, and always thinking out of the box, something she’s done ever since she was a kid. I can't imagine she's any different in whatever she's investigating here at Marquis.
“Decker. You wanted to meet here at this ungodly hour so we could talk about the business. Now that we’re here, all you’ve tried to do is charm and distract me. If you’re going to waste my time, I should’ve just stayed home and gone to sleep.”
Everyone stills at her tone and I well with pride because it's a brave move, but it’s the right one. That’s evident when Decker's chuckle confirms he’s playing right into her hands.
“Quinn. You're busting my balls again...” he muses. “I did want to talk about your proposal and what you can do for Marquis. I just needed to check in with J and meet Lawrence here. Now that we've done that, you’ve got my full attention.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, drawing all of our eyes to the dip in her dress. She's good... almost too good. “Then how about you stop trying to win me over by showing me your toybox when all I'm interested in promoting is your playroom, so to speak. Something I told you when I reached out to your office this week.” Keep going, Marlee.
Justin whistles through his teeth. “Damn, Deck, she's got your number.”
Decker studies Marlee, his eyes roaming over her face and I can see his brain working overtime. “Hmm, I'm thinking she just might. You can’t blame me for trying--and try I will, Quinn. Trust me on that.” His gaze sweeps over her form before his eyes drift over the table to me as he slowly lifts his whisky to his mouth. “What do you think, Lawrence? Is Quinn here right?”
I don't even blink. “About the toybox or the playroom? That I wouldn't know.” I shoot him a wink. “But something tells me that you're not a man to shy away from a challenge—business or otherwise.” My twitching lips earn me a grin in return.
“I like you already, Lawrence. Now drink up that pansy ass soda of yours so that we can all hear what Quinn's proposing--business or otherwise.”
“All business, Decker. I can assure you,” Marlee replies before she launches into her ‘proposal.’
Her presentation is so well executed, I’d almost be convinced that it was the real deal if I didn’t know better. A quick look at Decker and Justin who both can't tear their eyes away from her has me thinking they're completely sold on her too. Decker in particular seems enamored and hanging off her every word.
One thing is for sure. Whatever the case she’s working on, I need to know about it. At least then I can be sure I won’t screw up again like last year.
Hurting Marlee is still and always will be one of my biggest regrets and it’s a mistake I don't ever plan on making again. Not if I can help it.