It is a pointless endeavor.
“I know you’re watching, punk. I’ve felt you scrutinizing me since you disconnected our call.”
A huff rustles through the speakers of the television before Brandon banishes any theories that he isn’t a snoop. “Good? That was the only word you could come up with? Let me guess, you’re also one of those people who fish without a worm on the hook?”
I narrow my eyes before shifting them to the now switched-on TV. Brandon winks with the same arrogance I used on Macy’s date before he asks me to recite Samuel’s social security number again.
8
MACY
The twinkling flicker of a lit candle dances over the pristine white tablecloth of an elegantly set table. This restaurant is in one of the city’s most prestigious hotels. With crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and a live pianist playing a gentle melody in the corner, I can see why it has a five-star rating.
My date, Samuel, sits across from me. His eyes scan the menu as often as they appreciatively absorb the only portion of visible skin high on my thighs.
He has no idea that I’m here undercover, and I intend to keep it that way.
Sammy, as he asked me to call him when he opened the passenger-side door of his ride for me and fastened my belt, is a known gang affiliate. His extensive criminal record indicates that he is involved in a range of illegal activities. My aim for the past seven weeks has been to gather enough evidence to bring him down, and tonight’s date is a crucial part of that mission.
I didn’t tell Grayson about the real purpose of our date because he would have stopped me from going. Or worse, he would have helmed my undercover sting, making the situationeven more awkward. Instead, I lied to him, saying I was going out to avoid childbirth with a vagina no one has touched in years.
Since there was a heap of honesty in my concerned expression when I fumbled out my comment, Grayson accepted my excuse.
As I glance around the restaurant, a pang of guilt hits the middle of my chest. Even while working on opposite coastlines, Grayson has always been there for me, supporting me through thick and thin. But this is something I have to do on my own. It is impossible to fake an interest in someone when the epitome of your type is instructing your every move via an earpiece.
The hue Grayson’s voice causes my cheeks convinces our targets that we’re seconds from a tumble between sticky sheets. Although I want Sammy to believe the same tonight, I still think it was best to leave Grayson in the dark—for now.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself for the task at hand as Sammy looks up from his menu. A wolfish smirk spreads across his face as lust fires in his hooded gaze. “Have you decided what you want to eat?”
He thinks my dilated eyes are a compliment to his needy smirk.
I’ve yet to reach the same conclusion.
I muster up a fake grin, striving to appear as flirtatious as possible. “I’ll have the filet mignon.” After closing my menu, I set it aside. “How about we save our dessert selections until we’ve had the chance tofullyperuse the menu?” I graze my teeth over my lower lip, hiding my wish to gag, while my eyes do the same slow rake of his body as he did to mine earlier.
“Excellent choice.” He signals for the waiter to come over before placing our orders for entrées. “We will have two filet mignons, medium rare, and a bottle of your finest red wine.”
While collecting our menus, the waiter asks, “Dessert?”
Sammy’s eyes are back on me, intense and unwavering. “We’ve not yet decided on what we want to splurge on.” His words are for the server, but his demoralizing stare is solely for me—regrettably. “Perhaps after we’ve eaten, we will have a better idea.”
He’s lying. Sammy has made his decision, and despite my plumped out midsection, he wants to eat me for dessert.
The server nods and scurries off to place our order with the chef, and I take a sip of my water, endeavoring to calm my nerves.This is just another part of the job,I remind myself.I can handle this.It’s just weird being undercover while my stomach wiggles excessively. The baby is as appreciative of Grayson’s stellar cooking skills as my taste buds were when I devoured every morsel of food he served me today.
While waiting for Brandon’s reports to be completed, Grayson and I cooked, ate, and talked. For almost three hours, the weight on my chest lifted enough for me to secure an entire breath. I felt like I was living for me, not just existing to find my sister.
It’s been a while since I did that without guilt. I am confident, however, that the same man was responsible for the changeup.
As we wait for our food, Sammy makes small talk. He asks me about my interests and hobbies. I give him vague answers, not wanting to reveal too much about myself, before steering the conversation back to him, hoping to gather some helpful information.
“So, Sammy, what do you do for a living?” I use his self-appointed nickname with the hope it will encourage him to open up to me. It always works to Grayson’s advantage.
Samuel chuckles before leaning back in his chair. “I dabble in a bit of everything.” His eyes glisten with concealed truths as he runs off a list of accomplishments I’m certain he’ll never achieve. “Real estate, investments, you name it.”
I fake bewitchery. “Sounds fascinating. You must beverysuccessful.”
Samuel smirks, loving the attention. “I do all right.”
