Page 30 of Four Cards Exposed

James

Everything was coming apart.

James had built his entire adult life on the basis of control. By controlling everything in his environment, he’d been able to build the life he needed, if not the one he wanted. A life where every day was the same, regardless of which city he happened to be spending time in—work, eat dinner, work out, work some more, then fall asleep, only to start again the next morning.

It was exactly the way he wanted things.

Now, he could feel that control unraveling.

James had been undercover before, and even then, he’d been able to hold on to the control he relied on. There was no reason why this time should be any different. Or perhaps there were too many reasons. There was the fighting, the violence. A remnant from his youth, from the life he’d put behind him so many years ago, a life where the man who punched first, the one who hit the hardest, was the one who survived. And there was Susan. Susan, whose presence destabilized him because she made him want to long for—

For what?

What could you ever offer someone like her?

Nothing.

James couldn’t offer her anything—not now, as Jay, and not once he went back to his real existence.

When the drunk had grabbed on to Susan’s hip, it’d been all he could do not to break the man’s wrist. He would have broken it first, and asked questions later. Never mind that he was a federal agent. Never mind that it would have put the entire operation at risk.

Susan, of course, hadn’t broken cover for an instant.

She was pure steel, wrapped in the softest velvet.

He could see her now, still speaking with Guerrero. She hadn’t looked in his direction once since he’d moved away, but he could feel her attention on him. Or maybe that was just him projecting, because she was all he could think about.

Jesus.

The first time he’d seen Susan’s legs in those micro shorts she was wearing—he’d never look at denim the same again. Her legs were perfection: long and lithe and strong, muscled in all the right places.

It made sense that everybody was looking at her.

James looked down at his hands. The bruises from the last fight hadn’t faded yet, and soon it would be time to fight again.

11

* * *

Susan

When Susan arrived at the bar at four p.m. the next afternoon, she was sent straight to the garage behind the bar to get things ready.

At her blank look, Moore sighed.

“Follow Pia. She will show you what needs to be done,” he said, dismissing her.

“What are we doing here?”

“There’s a fight tonight. You think the bar is crowded on regular nights? Wait till you see how many people the fight drags in. And how much they drink.”

Susan’s heart constricted in fear.

“Who’s fighting?” she asked, working to keep her tone easy and casual.

Pia laughed, letting her know she’d failed completely.

“Your man, against some bare-knuckle boxing champion from the Midwest.”