Page 11

11

Niki

It had been a while since I’d seen Lyon, and I wondered where he was. Last I heard, he had gone to Iran on a mission to rescue some Navy SEALs. I shoved the thought aside and focused on the task at hand.

I wasn’t happy with my disguise. Playing a drug-addicted prostitute living on the streets wasn’t exactly my dream assignment. I glanced in the mirror, critiquing my reflection.

The dark circles under my eyes, the hollowed-out cheeks—I looked like a real addict. But my clothes still weren’t right.

The fishnet stockings had the right amount of rips, but the skirt barely covered my ass, and the top dipped so low it made me feel exposed. I yanked it off and pulled on a knotted tee instead. Better.

My hair was hidden under a blonde wig, tied back with a strip of black cloth I’d soaked in tea to give it a filthy, worn-out look. I stepped into a pair of black, knee-high boots—scuffed but sturdy. Good enough to fight in if it came down to that.

Grabbing my long coat, I headed out.

I made my way to an old, broken-down car hidden in a shed. The rust on the hood made it look like a piece of junk, but under the hood? This thing could outrun half the cops in LA. A gift from Joseph—one I’d learned never to underestimate.

This mission wasn’t like my usual gigs. We were after a cartel kingpin running a human trafficking ring in Los Angeles. We knew who he was. We just needed proof.

The problem? This bastard was ruthless. He’d slit your throat without blinking if he thought you were cheating him. And once I was inside his world, there’d be no turning back.

I couldn’t afford to be Niki Bannon anymore. I had to become Candy Lewis.

Truth be told, I was always nervous going undercover in the cartel world. One of my closest friends had been murdered by this same organization when they discovered she was working for law enforcement.

That wouldn’t happen to me.

When I went undercover, I became that person. But one thing never changed—no one laid a hand on me without consequences.

I wouldn’t let them kill me like they did Jill.

These men weren’t worth my life.

They needed to be locked away, or dead, every last one of them.

I stood on the street corner, surrounded by filth—both literal and human. The scum catcalled me, throwing out crude offers like I was a piece of meat. I ignored them, scanning the area.

Then, a strong arm wrapped around my shoulders.

My pulse spiked—until I heard a familiar voice.

“It’s me,” Jackson murmured in my ear. Then, louder: “Hey, sweetheart, how about takin’ me to your room for an hour? Show me what you got.”

I played along, slipping my arm around his waist. “Oh, honey, you’re gonna love what I can do with my tongue. Follow me, and I’ll make you real happy.”

His grip tightened as we walked. “You’ve been standing out here for four days. What have you found?”

“They’re planning to move me,” I whispered. “One of my sources said I’m being taken to ‘the big guy.’ If it’s who I think it is, we can finally bring him down. The way the other women talk, I’m almost certain he’s American. His name is Luke.”

Jackson frowned. “We don’t even have a photo of him.”

“I know. But if I get close enough, that changes.”

His jaw clenched. “You need to leave. This is getting worse by the day. I came because someone’s after you.”

I stiffened. “That’s impossible. No one knows who I am.”

“Mike called me. He said someone tipped off Luke about an undercover agent. You need to get out of here.”

I exhaled slowly, keeping my face neutral despite the dread curling in my stomach. “I can’t just disappear. That would blow my cover. Besides, I need to find Connie.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes. “Connie?”

“She’s nineteen. She was here earlier, and now she’s gone. No way she just walked away. Someone took her.”

Jackson shook his head. “You better worry about yourself.”

“I’ll handle myself.”

Before he could argue, a sharp noise outside made me freeze.

Then, gunfire erupted.

Jackson grunted, staggering back. Blood spread across his shirt.

“ Go through the trap door , ” I hissed. “Now.”

He hesitated, but I shoved him toward the hidden passage. It led to the building next door—our only escape.

The door burst open, slamming against the wall.

I turned slowly, my heart hammering.

Luke. I didn’t have a doubt.

He was white, wiry, and strung out—the kind of man who had lost his soul a long time ago. He ran the Los Angeles branch of the cartel, and I had just become his next target.

His gaze was cold as he stepped forward. “You’re dead. No one messes with my business. I haven’t seen a dime from you.”

I squared my shoulders, forcing a smirk. “Why the hell would I pay you? I don’t even know who you are.”

Luke let out a dry chuckle. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ll know soon enough.” He gestured to his men. “Take her.”

Not happening.

The sirens outside wailed louder.

I lashed out, my boot connecting with Luke’s gut. He went down hard, gasping for air.

One of his men lunged—I slammed my elbow into his face, sending him sprawling.

The third man hesitated. Then, instead of fighting, he grabbed Luke and hauled him toward a waiting car.

I turned to the last guy, who was still groaning on the ground. I stomped down on his wrist for good measure, then grabbed my bag and bolted for the trap door.

I crawled backward into the tunnel, my foot knocking into something solid.

“Jackson?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “We need to make a decision. If we leave the tunnel now, we risk being seen.”

“I’m calling Joseph. We need backup. Someone from the inside leaked my identity, and when I find out who it is, they’re dead.”

I dialed. “Joseph, someone told the cartel I was undercover. We need an extraction at the tunnel house. Now . ”

“Who’s with you?”

“Jackson. He got shot. We need a medic.”

“Understood. Medic will be there in three minutes.

Then— creak.

I tensed.

Someone had just opened the trap door behind us.

“Move,” I whispered.

Jackson grabbed my arm, pulling me forward. We scrambled into the next building, locking the trap door behind us. I checked his leg— the wound was bad.

“We need to get to the side alley,” he said, as we ran outside.

“You go,” I whispered. “I’ll hold them off.”

Jackson glared at me. “Not happening. We stick together.”

Before I could argue, another shot rang out.

Jackson staggered, his body slamming into the wall. Blood bloomed across his shoulder.

And then—a slow clap .

I turned.

Luke stood there, a pistol in his hand, his expression smug.

“It’s your choice,” he said smoothly. “I finish him now, or you come with me.”