LUKE Myers stepped into the bar where he was supposed to meet his partner. He’d been waiting at least a week to hear from him and had started to wonder if something hadn’t happened to the man. He had intel he needed to relay to HQ, and it wasn’t like he could just pick up a phone and call it in.
Though he’d managed to infiltrate one of the most dangerous drug cartels ever to cross the southern border, the man he answered to in the cartel wasn’t exactly a trusting individual. In this line of business, perceived friends could often be the most dangerous of enemies, which was why the cartel heads watched all their lackeys closely. If anyone was even suspected of not being what they pretended to be, El Dragón, who was known for torching the bodies of his enemies, took swift and deadly action.
Luke had to make the rendezvous, deliver his message, and then get the hell out of here.
He’d been here too long already. Although he didn’t have time to stop, he just couldn’t walk past that guy wearing the Captain America T-shirt, who’d had his face so rudely introduced to the front door. He was a bit of a hot mess, but there was something strangely appealing about it.
Luke had grown so accustomed to the insufferable swagger of the men he worked for both in and out of his undercover work that he found himself relieved by the guy’s quirky and goofy nature. He was certainly a far cry from the guys Luke typically dated, whose confidence often crossed the line into cockiness.
What the hell was he doing? Now was definitely not the time to be thinking about his wreck of a love life, not that he’d ever had time for one anyway. As always, he had a job to do, and in order to do that, he had to find the man he’d actually come here to find.
But he didn’t see him anywhere.
A huge rectangular bar ate up most of the floor space in the first room. A bartender wearing a black muscle shirt poured a couple of drinks. He gave Luke a wicked smile that revealed he was ready and willing if Luke was.
Luke glanced past him without a second thought. He was tired of the clumsy come-ons, of guys only wanting to get into his pants. He wasn’t some prude. God knew he’d fucked his share of men, but it would be nice if someone actually wanted to talk every once in a while instead of just hop into bed.
Was this how big-breasted women felt about most straight men? If so, no wonder they bitched about men so much.
Past the bartender, who turned around in a snit, there were two other men in the room. Their eyes had been glued to the television screens until Luke had come in. Instead of watching whatever appalling bubblegum pop music video screeched on the television, they leered at him with wide eyes and mouths agape.
Their fish impersonations couldn’t have been any less attractive, and neither could the stomach-churning stench of piss, stale sweat, and what could only be described as desperation that wafted on the air. The unpleasant odor was just one of many reasons he hated coming to places like this.
After tossing his one-use burner phone into the trash can, he strode past the bar and into the second room, which opened into a long narrow back patio. Outdoor shrubs and small trees lined the opposite wall, and rainbow disco balls from a previous party still clung to the tiny wires that wrapped around the wooden beams of the pergola overhead.
Luke followed the patio around the back of the building to a larger area littered with smokers’ poles and last night’s trash.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
Luke spun around. He instinctively reached for the firearm he kept tucked at the small of his back.
The man behind him held up his hands, revealing he meant no harm. It was Crispin Aguilar, his partner and fellow FBI agent.
“Dammit, Crispy. Sneaking up on me’s a good way to die.”
“So’s letting me get the drop on you,” he replied with that irritating smirk of his. It slanted across his lips as if he were some cartoon villain instead of one of the good guys, and if he’d wanted to, Crispy would make one hell of a bad guy. He was a six-foot-two former Navy SEAL. He was taller and stronger than Luke and knew at least twelve ways to kill a man in two moves or less. Luckily, as a former member of the Special Forces, Luke knew at least twice that, and most only required one precise strike. “You’re late.”
“I had trouble getting away,” Luke replied. “And I ran into someone coming in.”
Crispy rolled his eyes. “Is that why we had to meet here? So you could score some tail before heading back?”
Luke shot his partner a scowl. He’d asked Crispy to meet him here because this was one of the last places El Dragón’s men would look for him. They gave the Strip and all the jotos as wide a berth as possible for fear that they’d catch “the gay,” as they called it. If they only knew they’d been working alongside one for almost a year. “Are you gonna give me more shit, or can we just get down to business?”
Crispy nodded and crossed his big arms over his massive chest. “What you got?”
“He’s coming to SA.”
Crispy didn’t need the pronoun explained. His surprised expression communicated he understood. What Luke had been working on for the past few months was finally paying off. Prior to Luke’s infiltration of the cartel, El Dragón had never set foot on American soil. He’d let his generals handle the drug trade while he called the shots from south of the border, where he safely hid behind the army of federales on his payroll. Coming to the United States was too risky, but something was finally bringing him here.
“Why?”
“I’m not certain,” Luke replied. “But word’s come down to start making preparations for his arrival. El Dragón plans to inspect all aspects of the organization on this side.”
“Which means we can not only snag the bastard on our turf but catch him with his hands in the cookie jar.”
Luke nodded in response. “The only thing is I’m not certain when he’s coming. It could be tomorrow or next month, but plans are in the works. Tell HQ to keep an eye on border traffic.”
“I’ve also got a few contacts down in Mexico,” Crispy muttered. As usual when he was in deep thought, his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll alert them as well. Having eyes on the other side of the border might come in handy.”
“Agreed.”
“Do you need anything?” Crispy’s voice grew serious, and Luke understood why. El Dragón’s presence made an already dangerous assignment deadly. Luke had been able to dupe Rogelio Sandoval, the man who gave the orders here in San Antonio. While Rogelio might be a dangerous man, he didn’t have El Dragón’s nose for sniffing out cops.
“Let’s just make sure we nail this bastard,” he finally replied. “I’m ready to head home.”
“You’ll be back in LA in no time,” Crispy said with his trademark smirk. “I know you’ve got a city full of boys just itching for you to get home.”
The only boy he wanted to see again was George, his bullmastiff. It had been too long since he’d seen his precious pooch’s face. After this assignment was done, he planned on taking a three-week vacation. He’d load George into his Jeep Wrangler, and they’d drive up the coast and as far away from south Texas as he could possibly get.
“I need to head back. You go that way,” Luke said with a nod to the wooden gate across the patio. “I’ll go out the way I came in.”
Before he could leave, Crispy placed his hand on his shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Luke.” Crispy wasn’t known to be the most sentimental man in the world, but concern tracked a clear path across his pained expression.
“I will,” Luke replied with a pat to his shoulder. He continued past and glanced back. “I’ll see you soon.”
Crispy grinned. “Yeah, and it better be real fucking soon,” he said before turning around and walking out the back gate.
The slamming of the wooden door echoed behind Luke as he turned the corner before stopping in his tracks. Rogelio Sandoval and the two goons he brought with him everywhere he went stood between Luke and the door. Their heads were titled back as they stared him down.
Fuck. This wasn’t good.
“Órale, guey,” Luke said, using the standard greeting for unexpectedly running into a friend. He quickly fell back into the heavily accented Spanish he used while working for the cartel. “What the fuck are you vatos doing here?”
“I could be asking you the same thing, guey.” The way Rogelio spoke the last word indicated he no longer believed they were friends.
Luke made no move to draw his gun. They all knew where he kept it, and if his hands even fell below his waist, they’d take out their pistols and shoot him in the head. He held his hands up with his palms facing out. “I was meeting with a potential new dealer to replace Fernando.”
Fernando Olivares had been arrested a few days ago when he drove home drunk and crashed his car, which just happened to be carrying a few kilos of product, into a parked vehicle. As a result, business in the downtown area had taken a nosedive.
Rogelio said nothing, but Frick and Frack behind him snorted in disbelief.
“I’m serious,” Luke said. He stood two feet from them, which wasn’t close enough. If he made a move now, one of them would take him out. “He just left out back. We can go after him if you don’t believe me.”
“I don’t believe you.” Rogelio’s voice was cold and indifferent. “Because I know the truth.”
“What truth is that?” he asked, inching his way closer.
“That your name is Luke Myers and that you work for the motherfucking FBI.”
His cover had been blown, but how? “No fucking way,” he said, waving off the accusation. He had to find some way to close the distance between them before Rogelio’s men could get off a shot.
“Don’t fucking lie to me, cabrón.” Rogelio lunged, grabbing his shirt and yanking him forward. He might have been smaller than Luke, but the man worked out constantly. He clearly felt comfortable in his fighting abilities and in the skills of his bodyguards.
Big fucking mistake.
LUKE jogged into the parking garage across the street. He had to find some wheels. Using his car was too dangerous. Everyone who worked for Rogelio would soon be looking for his Dodge Charger, especially after what he’d just had to do. Once he had a new vehicle, he’d have to report that he’d been compromised and go underground.
Standard procedure dictated a return to the home office, where he’d be debriefed, but his gut told him he had to fly under the radar. Someone had blown his cover for him, and he couldn’t rule out an inside job just yet.
He spotted a Hyundai Sonata parked in a row of vehicles. With so many cars on either side to provide him cover, the Sonata was the easiest to temporarily borrow.
Luke pulled on the door handle to see if the car had been left unlocked. No such luck. He bent forward, peering through the driver’s side window. If he was lucky, an absentminded owner might have left the keys behind, but he couldn’t see any. The lack of a blinking red light on the steering column told him at least he didn’t have to contend with a car alarm.
All he had to do was break the glass and hotwire it. Then he could get the hell out of here and find someplace to hole up until he figured this mess out.
“Are you trying to steal my car?”
Luke whirled around, his hand grazing the butt of his gun. The puppy-dog eyes of the guy he’d helped outside of Pegasus peered at him from two cars away. “This is yours?” he asked, pretending to be distracted. “I thought it was mine.”
The guy narrowed his eyes. He held up his hand and pushed the button on the fob in his hand. The Sonata chirped as the doors unlocked.
“My bad,” Luke replied, stepping out from between the cars. “I have a car just like this.”
“So you were going to break into your own car?” he asked, lifting a single eyebrow.
“I lost my keys.”
He surveyed the parking garage before settling his gaze back on Luke. “I don’t see any other red Sonatas in here. Did you also forget where you parked your car?”
“Okay. You caught me,” Luke said. “I was waiting for you.”
From the guy’s even stare, he believed that even less than Luke’s previous lies. “Look. You’re a car thief. I get it.” He squared his slim shoulders and widened his stance, doing his best to take on a threatening pose, but there was nothing menacing about him. He was slender with a boyish face made even less sinister by the long dark hair that hung down to his shoulders. “We’ve got car thieves in my family too. Of course, they’re distant relatives and not really invited to family functions, but we’ve got them.”
“Listen—”
“I’m not gonna call the cops,” he said, letting out a sigh of surrender. It had clearly not been a good day for him either. “You were decent to me back there, so I’m gonna be decent to you right now. Just please don’t steal my car or hurt me because I caught you trying to steal my car. I really don’t think I could take any more shit on this craptastic day.”
Luke relaxed his own tense posture and leaned against the vehicle. This guy wasn’t going to make a scene, and he obviously didn’t work for El Dragón. He was far too nice to be mixed up with those crazy motherfuckers. “I’m not going to hurt you. That’s not what I do.”
“Not hurting people is good,” the guy replied. He plodded over toward the car next to his, leaned against it, mimicking Luke’s pose, and sighed. “Of course, not stealing things from other people is pretty good too.”
Luke smiled. He found this strange guy sort of amusing. “Duly noted.”
“Although going on a crime spree right now might be good for me.”
Luke arched his eyebrows. “Why do you say that?”
“Because if I’m in jail, I won’t have to go home and deal with my mother.”
“I guess moms can be tough.” Luke didn’t know much about parent-child dynamics. His childhood had been lost to the fog of time and pain.
The guy sniffed. “You have no idea, and mine is like the worst of them all. Sometimes I think she lives to torment me.”
Under any other circumstances, he’d sit with this guy and talk things out, because it looked like he could really use a friend and because Luke was actually enjoying his company. But he didn’t have the luxury. With this situation defused, he had to deal with the other ticking time bomb. He pushed off the car. “Well, I guess I should be going. I wish there was something I could do for you….”
The guy’s shoulders rose and a devilish twinkle lit up his brown eyes and his tanned face. “Oh my God. There is!”
“There is?”
The mischievous glint grew to a devious grin. His former defeated posture had disappeared as if he’d found a life preserver in the middle of whatever chaotic sea he’d been floundering in. “You were just about to steal my car, right? Which means you need money.”
Luke didn’t like the direction this was going. He was an FBI agent, not an escort. “Sorry, man,” he said, taking two steps back. “I’ll never do that for any amount of money.”
“What are you—?” he asked before his cheeks set aflame. “OMG. I’m not trying to pay you for sex. I’m hard up, but not that hard up.”
Luke was lost. “Then what exactly are you trying to pay me to do?”
“It’s nothing big. Well, it is big. To me, at least. And I’ll pay you, but I don’t have a lot of money, but if you could help me out, I would, like, owe you real big.”
If this guy didn’t slow down, he was going to hyperventilate. Luke gently placed his hands on the guy’s shoulders and rubbed them. “Breathe.”
He nodded and took several deep breaths. Even though he’d calmed down, the light in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. If anything, they burned even brighter.
“What is it?”
“It involves lying, just so you know, but I figure you’d be okay with lying since….” He gestured at the car and grinned instead of accusing Luke of being a thief again.
Luke had to force himself to remain stone-faced. This guy was cracking him up, which was unusual, considering Luke’s present circumstances. “Tell me or I walk.” Why did he even say that? He should be booking it out of here right now.
“I promise it won’t take long. Maybe two hours, tops.”
True to his word, Luke released his shoulders, turned around, and walked away.
“I’ve gotten myself into some trouble, but I could use you to get out of it.”
Luke stopped and turned around. “Use me to get out of trouble you got yourself in?”
He nodded.
“How do you intend to use me?”
“By having you pretend to be my boyfriend, Tim.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Tim Drake.”
“You named your boyfriend after one of Batman’s Robins?”
His eyebrows practically leaped off his forehead. “You know that?”
This guy had to focus. “Why do you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend, who you named after a comic book character?”
“It’ll get my mother off my back,” he answered. He took three steps closer to Luke, his eyes wide and pleading.
“So you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend for your mother?”
He nodded. “And my father, of course. My sister will probably want to meet you too.” He stopped as an impish grin slid across his lips. He looked Luke up and down, and his grin grew into a full-on smirk. “And for my ex-boyfriend too. That jerk will shit a brick.”
“Do you think they’ll believe it?”
“Of course they will,” he answered, more to himself than to anyone else. “You’re perfect. Tall, blond, muscular, and I bet under those clothes you have the body of an underwear model.”
“You made your pretend boyfriend an underwear model?”
“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He walked around Luke as if he were making a purchase. “Will you do it? Please?”
Luke took a step toward him. “How do you know I won’t hurt you? You caught me trying to steal your car. What makes you think I won’t get you in that car, make you drive to some remote location, and do something bad to you and then take your car?”
He snorted as if that was the craziest idea he’d ever heard. “You’re not that kind of guy. If you were, you would’ve already stabbed or shot me by now. Your average criminal doesn’t stand around and hold conversations, do they?”
He had a point there. “And what if I say no?”
The guy grinned, took out his phone, and held up the keypad. “I’ll dial 9-1-1,” he replied. “And give them a good description of the man trying to steal my car.”
He was a sneaky little shit, and it made Luke smile. While this was perhaps the craziest stunt he’d ever heard of, this little opportunity would give him a few hours to lie low and plan his next move. “I guess I don’t have a choice. Do I?”
“Nope,” he chirped and headed for his car. “Get in. I can’t wait to see my mom’s face.”
“What’s your name?”
He smacked his forehead with his palm. “I’m such a doofus. Martín Valdez,” he said, holding out his hand. “But everyone calls me Marty.”
Luke shook his hand, letting his grip linger a second longer than needed. “Nice to finally meet you, Marty.”
“What’s your name?” he asked, opening the car door.
“Tim.”
“Really?” he asked.
“No, but that’s probably what you should call me. Don’t you think?”
Marty flashed Luke a big smile before he disappeared into the vehicle.
Luke stood there for a few seconds, his stomach suddenly fluttering, before he finally slid into the car.