The chandelier was large enough to crush an elephant. Rory sat at the opulent bar of a swanky downtown Denver hotel, his pose casual, his hand drumming lightly on the counter, his perusal missing nothing.
The sparkles from the various crystals twinkled on every surface, from the thick martini glasses to the diamond earrings of the woman across the bar, who kept giving him the eye. She was young and pretty, with high cheekbones and soft brown eyes. There was a time he would’ve flirted with her, but that was before he met Serenity. Even though he was on the job, sometimes flirting made him look less conspicuous. But now, he politely looked away.
The atmosphere hummed with soft elevator music and the clink of glasses, dispersed between small murmurs and occasional laughter.
He didn’t react as Hana Chung sat next to him on a stool.
The bartender, a male twenty-something with a sleeve of various zodiac symbol tattoos winding up one arm immediately turned toward her, his smile genuine and his eyes appraising.
“Hey there, beautiful. What can I get you?”
“Scotch, rocks. Glenlivet,” Hana said, her voice and like satin on the breeze at three octaves lower than normal.
The bartender reached for a glass, partially turning away.
Rory barely moved his head. “Hello.”
“Hi there,” she said brightly, hitching up her siren-red skirt and crossing her legs. “You’re all alone in this beautiful establishment?”
“I believe so,” he said, falling back on their code words easily but sounding flirtatious. If anybody had been tailing them, he hadn’t noticed. His instincts were usually spot-on, yet he didn’t stop scanning the bar as he pretended to flirt.
“Now that’s a pity.” She drummed her red-painted nails up his arm.
He’d worn gray slacks, an expensive button-down shirt, and a green power tie to fit in with the after-business crowd. It was his best outfit for blending in. In contrast, Hana wore a bright red dress and had her black hair piled wildly on her head, showcasing her thickly mascaraed lashes.
He leaned slightly to the side, keeping his voice too low for anybody to hear. “Are you going for model or high-end?”
“Could be anything,” she whispered back, smiling as the bartender returned with her drink. “Thank you.”
“It’s on me,” Rory said.
The bartender nodded as if that were the inevitable outcome, his stare lingering longingly on Hana. She purposefully turned her attention to Rory so the poor guy could get back to work.
Rory turned and held out a hand. “Rory Plottsville.”
“Hana Jones,” she said, shaking with him, her eyes sparkling. They’d done this so many times, but it was still fun, and she’d always loved going undercover. While they often played a couple, neither of them had ever made any real moves, and Rory often thought of her as the younger sister he’d never asked for—especially when she was kicking his ass in training. The woman looked sweet but knew every possible move to make a guy cry.
He held out his drink. “Cheers.”
“Santé.” She looked him directly in the eyes. He’d always liked that she was slightly superstitious. They’d been partners for a while, and when he left the business, she planned to do the same. They were also the best of friends, and he fully intended to remain in contact with her, especially considering she lacked family and had terrible taste in men. Truly awful. Perhaps he should get his grandmother interested in finding Hana a partner. It’d be fun to see who Nonna chose.
“Did you get your fiancée back?” Hana murmured, her lips on the glass, her tone more than hinting that she thought he was a moron for losing Serenity in the first place.
“Not yet. Almost,” he said, taking a big gulp.
“I’m glad she’s making you work for it.” The women had never met, but Hana was solidly on Serenity’s side.
Rory shook his head. “I’m not getting the sense anybody’s watching us, are you?”
“No, and the cameras have been disabled, but they don’t know it yet,” she said, sipping her Scotch, her lips painted a wild red. She tapped his arm again, slipping a key card beneath it. “Our source says he’s in room 1107, registered under the name Montgomery Wilson.”
Rory stiffened and then forced his body to relax. “Are we sure?”
“They hacked into the cameras, and it looks like him.” Hana batted her eyes as if flirting, leaning closer to him. “Though I have my doubts. He’s too good to get caught on camera.”
Rory went cold inside. “Was his face caught?”
“No, and you’re on stairs since I’m wearing these ridiculous heels.”
