Mine to Protect (Mine 6)

“Victor?” Zoe pushed.

Victor shoved a twenty at the bouncer and kept walking.

Inside, Dice was like a cave. Candlelight sputtered on a few of the tables. There was no music playing. Just silence. The occasional clink of glasses.

This scene is wrong. The place is wrong.

All of Victor’s instincts were on high alert. Zoe had made her way up to the bar. She put her hands on the old, scratched surface. “Excuse me,” she said.

The bartender turned around. The bartender was a male, had to be pushing seventy, with a grizzled jaw and a bald head.

“I’m looking for Roy. Is he working tonight?”

The bartender’s face hardened. “Don’t know any Roy.”

“Uh, yeah, you do,” she replied, leaning toward him. “I’ve seen you…here…with him. He worked the bar.”

The bartender’s stare slid to Victor. “Better get your girl out of here. She’s confused.”

“She is not confused,” Zoe snapped right back at him. “I’ve been in here at least a dozen times with Michelle! She was dating Roy. Roy who worked here, with you. He’s a big, blond guy. She’s a tall, slim, gorgeous African American woman with—”

“Get her out.” The bartender pointed at Victor. “And don’t let her come asking about Roy again. Roy didn’t work here. He was never here.” He turned away. Went back to clinking the glasses behind the bar.

Zoe whirled around to face Victor. “What is happening here? How is this happening? First Michelle, now Roy. They can’t both vanish.”

Yeah, they could. He caught her hand in his. “We need to go.”

“No! We need to find them—both of them! That was the deal, right? That was—”

“We’re going.” From the corner of Victor’s eye, he’d just seen the bartender pull out his cell phone. The guy was talking fast now, whispering into that phone. Oh, hell, no, this scene wasn’t good. “And we’re going fast.”

He made sure to position Zoe so that he could still easily reach for his gun. He was worried he might be needing it soon.

They hurried for the door. He could feel the rage practically pouring off Zoe. She thought he was letting her down. Going against their little plan.

Screw that. He was trying to keep her alive.

When they burst out of Dice, the bouncer was gone. “Another fucking bad sign.”

“What’s a bad sign?” Zoe whirled and put her hands on her hips as she glared at him. “What are you doing? You know that guy was lying to us! Let’s go back in there and make him tell us what’s happening—”

“We’re getting out of here.” Only there were no taxis nearby. “Come on.”

“Victor—”

“Trust me. We have to go, now.”

She kept glaring at him. He thought about picking her up and just hauling ass. The silence stretched too long. Time they didn’t have to waste. He stepped toward her. Sorry, baby, no choice here.

“Fine,” she gritted out before he reached for her. “But I am not happy about this crap.”

Then they were both rushing away—pretty much running—and they hurried toward the narrow alleyway on the right. He could see the flow of traffic on the other side of that alley. Once they got through that little space, they’d burst out on one of the main roads. They’d get a taxi. They’d get their asses to a safer place, then he could figure out exactly what had just gone down in Dice.

He could—

A man appeared in the mouth of that alley, a guy wearing a big coat, gloves, and with a thick scarf wrapped around his neck. Even before that stranger lifted his right hand, Victor knew—

Gun.

He pushed Zoe to the side even as he threw his body down on top of hers. He heard the sharp blast of the gunfire, but he didn’t feel the burn of a bullet hitting him—a good thing. He’d slammed hard into Zoe, and he hoped like hell that she was all right. He grabbed for his weapon, ready to return fire.

“Ow! Fuck! Sonofabitch—let me go!”

At that scream, Victor tensed even more. He risked a quick glance around the giant garbage bin near him—his current cover—and saw that the guy in the scarf was on the ground. He was the one doing the screaming. Mostly because the big, hulking bouncer they’d seen before—the guy with tats on the side of his neck who’d been slouched with such unconcern at Dice—that fellow had his foot on the shooter’s neck. The bouncer also had a gun out and aimed at the fellow on the ground.

“Stop your screaming,” the bouncer ordered. “Or I’ll stop it.”

The guy wisely clamped his lips shut.

Victor took aim at the bouncer.

The bouncer looked up at him. “See what twenty bucks can get you?” His voice was mocking. “I’ve got to be the cheapest protection you’ve ever bought.”

Zoe was dead silent near Victor. He didn’t risk looking at her. He was afraid to take his eyes off the two men.

Were they both his enemies?

Or…

“I’m a federal agent,” Victor called out. “So you really want to lower your gun right now and let me take over this situation.”

Laughter answered him. “Right. Like you think I didn’t tag you for a fed the first time I saw you?”

“And you think I didn’t tag you?” Victor threw back. “Like I’m going to walk into a place like Dice and not realize what the hell is going on.”

“Victor…” Zoe’s voice was hushed, barely reaching his ears. “What is going on?”

As he watched, the bouncer tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans. He lifted his hands, holding them toward Victor, palms up, but he did keep his foot firmly planted at the back of the shooter’s head.

“The bouncer is on our side,” Victor said. But a heavy weight had settled onto his chest. Yes, he’d look

ed at the bouncer and hesitated. Tagged you, too.

“Our side?” She inched closer. “What the hell does that even mean? That he’s not a hitman?”

“Not a hitman.” Not if his suspicions were right. “A cop.” Hell, and if the bouncer was a cop…if that whole place was a front, like he suspected…

Zoe is about to be in for even more betrayal.

Chapter Nine

The building was non-descript. Two-story, brick. The windows were covered. There was only one main entrance and…

The place was some kind of safe house for cops. Cops.

Zoe’s palms were sweaty as she glanced around the little room. An interrogation room, if she guessed right. With cops. She’d never gotten along so well with them. In her general ranking of law enforcement personnel to avoid, well, cops were at the top of the list.

FBI Agents were immediately ranked second beneath them.

She sat in a slightly wobbly wooden chair. A square table was in front of her. One of the cops—the bouncer, actually—had poured her a glass of water and put in on the table.

The bouncer didn’t look like a cop. He was far too dangerous for that. But he’d shown her his badge. Victor had called Russell and vetted the guy.

Cain Blair. Undercover cop extraordinaire.

Only he wasn’t the only undercover cop in the room. Her gaze slid to the left.

Roy Duncan stood there, frowning. Michelle’s Roy. Roy the missing bartender.

Only he wasn’t missing any longer.

Because when Cain had delivered her and Victor to this place, Roy had been waiting there for them. Roy, with his sun-streaked blond hair and his icy blue gaze. Roy who’d pulled out his own badge and ID when Zoe had just stared at him in shock.

He was a cop. All along. Did Michelle know?

“I’ll want the prisoner,” Victor said. He wasn’t sitting at the little table. He was pacing to the right and looking very much like some kind of angry predator.

“Sorry, not happening,” Cain told him, sounding not the least bit apologetic. “The Vegas PD has dibs on him.”

“He tried to shoot me!” Victor snarled.

“No, he tried to shoot her.” Cain pointed at Zoe. “And really, she should have known better than to come back to this town again. Seriously, what do you have, lady, a death wish?”