“Five minutes and we’re finally out of here,” Remy muttered, glancing at his watch.
Alex lifted a brow. “What? You have a date or something?”
Remy flashed him a grin, his hazel eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t call it a date. More like a booty call.”
“At three o’clock in the morning? Who the hell would be awake now and looking to hook up?”
“That would be Vivian.” Remy’s smile broadened. “She’s always ready for a hookup.”
Alex dug through his memory, trying to figure out if he’d ever met Vivian. After mentally scrolling through the Rolodex of Remy’s girlfriends, he gave up. The man had a lot of women in his life. Alex didn’t know if it was Remy’s accent or what, but it seemed like every time he turned around, women were throwing their panties at the guy left and right.
It wasn’t that Alex was a monk or anything—not by a long shot. He enjoyed the company of a beautiful woman as much as the next man, but he needed something beyond the physical to hold his attention.
“Is she the tall one with long, dark hair?” he finally asked.
“Nah. That’s Leslie.” Remy shook his head. “Vivian’s the fiery redhead who drives the Ferrari.”
Alex opened his mouth to ask why the hell a woman who could afford a Ferrari would hang out with a SWAT cop whose paycheck probably couldn’t even cover the detailing on a ride like that, when a dark blue Toyota came down the street. It slowed to a crawl as it passed the small group gathered at the corner, then pulled into a parking lot a few hundred feet away. Not much chance they were stopping for gas or munchies, since the old Gas-n-Go that used to be there had gone out of business a long time ago.
The people on the corner stood up a little straighter, practically bouncing on their toes as three men climbed out of the Toyota and surveyed the area. Well, if that didn’t scream they were up to something shady, Alex didn’t know what did.
He leaned over his rifle, using the low-light scope to see details that even his werewolf enhanced vision couldn’t pick up from this distance. Apparently, the men must have thought the coast was clear, because one of them ducked into the back of the car and came out with a handful of small plastic bags that he casually shoved into the pocket of his jacket.
“We’re hot,” Alex said into his mic. “The big guy with the mountain-man beard just tucked several baggies inside his right pocket.”
The other cops listening in immediately started talking among themselves, their voices a jumble over the radio.
“Relax and maintain position,” Rodriguez said softly, as if he were worried the dealers would hear his rough voice. “The guys are going to take a little time to feel out their customers first and make sure there’s nothing fishy going on. We wait until my undercover guy confirms they’re dealing fireball, then move in when he gives the signal. And remember, don’t blow his cover. We arrest him along with the rest of them and make sure he spends a night or two in lockup like everyone else.”
“Talk about a crappy job,” Remy muttered. “I wonder if he gets overtime for that.”
Alex turned off his mic. “I doubt it. Mike said that having narcotic cops spend time in jail is good for their street cred—or at least the street cred of their undercover identity.”
Remy made a face. “That’s a pretty harsh price to pay for a little street cred. Remind me never to request a transfer into narcotics.”
Alex didn’t argue with that as he peered down his scope so he could keep an eye on the three dealers—and Rodriguez’s UC officer. Everyone in the group down on the corner was talking like they were all old friends. Unfortunately, no one seemed to want to bring up the reason they were standing on a dark street corner at oh dark thirty in the morning—drugs.
“Dammit, why don’t they just get on with it?” Remy growled. “Everyone knows they’re down there to buy drugs. Just do it already.”
Alex chuckled. “Maybe you should send Vivian a text and tell her that you probably won’t be able to make it.”
“No way,” Remy said. “You don’t just pass up a chance to spend quality time with a woman like Vivian. She’s special.”
Alex was pretty confident Remy wasn’t implying Vivian might be The One for him, that mythical one-in-a-billion soul mate that apparently existed for every werewolf out there. It was funny really. Considering Remy constantly had women in and out of his bed, Alex always thought he’d be the first werewolf to find his perfect soul mate. Instead, Gage, Xander, Becker, and Cooper had stumbled across the women they were meant to be with for the rest of their lives.
He would have pointed that out to Remy, but a soft voice coming through the UC cop’s wire caught his attention.
“You got anything special with you tonight?” the woman asked, her hesitant voice barely audible above the chatter of the other people in the group.
“That depends on how special you want,” the bearded guy with the baggies in his pocket said. “You looking for something in particular?”
Alex moved his rifle until he had his scope trained on the woman talking. Even in the dark, he could see that she was small, thin, and frail looking. She boldly stuck out her chin and met the man’s gaze.
“I’m looking for fireball. You got any?”
Everyone suddenly went quiet.
The big man smiled behind his beard. “Yeah, I got some. How much you looking to buy, sweet thing?”
