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Zane has worked his magic in getting me this shift at Keller’s. I’m going to show them everything they need to see so that they give me something regular there. I’ll be polite, courteous, on time, and I won’t answer back—at least not to their faces. I’m going to be the model employee.

But all the while, I’ll be eying up the clientele, seeing who is who.

I’ll be making mental notes, listening for gossip amongst the other members of staff, and keeping my ears close to the ground. Then when the time is right, I’ll present myself to whichever master of the underworld is most suitable to take on board my skills.

And from there?

Well, that’s when things will truly get good.

“Another hot chocolate,” the server says, placing the drink down on my table.

“Thank you,” I reply, my innocent green eyes shimmering under the spotlight and my long eyelashes fluttering. “I’ll pay at the bar when I’m done, save you the trouble of coming over.”

The server blushes, smiles, and turns away to head over toward another table. Little does he know that I ain’t going back to that bar. And I’m certainly not parting with any money today.

Life has kicked me plenty of times. I had to learn the hard way. Today, it’s the server’s turn.

All that’s left is for me to sip on my hot chocolate, take in the city from my cozy armchair, and think about my backstory for whoever has the pleasure of being my shift manager at Keller’s Club later today…

My shift manager is talking, yapping away in fact.

But while I might look like I’m listening attentively, my mind is elsewhere. I’m already looking out for faces, hidden rooms, doors that look like they might lead somewhere of interest…

“Oh, yeah, totally,” I say, not entirely sure what I’m replying to. “Of course.”

“Good,” Steven, my manager, replies. “You’ll be on mostly tidying up duty today. We have cleaners of course, but during opening hours we expect the staff to keep the place in a perfect state of presentability. Keller’s has a reputation to maintain.”

“Oh, you can count on me,” I answer, doing my best to sound perky without going overboard and drawing any suspicion.

Steven proceeds to tell me all about the storied history of Keller’s Club. Men of great influence and power have passed through this place over the years.

Privacy is key here.

Discretion is king.

And the tips can be fantastic for members of staff who know how to play the game and earn the trust of its patrons. This all sounds great, it really does. But my eyes are on a bigger prize than nice tips and some freebies whenever some rich asshole feels like being nice.

I feign enthusiasm at the prospect of one day being given courtside tickets and listen dutifully as Steven then hushes his voice and recalls the occasions when high level politicians and federal agents have needed to use the club for off the record meetings.

If only Steven knew what I had in mind.

Pffft. I’d be out of the door quicker than lighting.

Steven seems nice, if a little over serious. Maybe it’s me with my authority issues, but anyone who takes a job like this too seriously doesn’t exactly scream cool cat to me. But I’ll keep Steven sweet and do as he says. He’s spelled it out to me already. All I need is his seal of approval after the trial shift and I’ll be good to go.

“Shall I make a start in one of the upstairs rooms?” I ask, having noticed a troupe of suited and booted men walking down the stairs and heading for the small bar.

“Excellent,” Steven answers. “You’re learning already. First floor. Third door on the left. Big set of double doors. There probably won’t be much to do, but whatever there is… do it to Keller’s Club standard.”

“I’m on it,” I say, smiling.

I don’t waste a single second and get my ass up the stairs. But instead of taking the large double door, I stop short and put my hand on the door just before it. Typically a large meeting room will have a smaller side room attached to it, and if there does happen to be anyone loitering in the main room I’ll be able to listen to what they’re talking about.

And no sooner than I creep into the smaller room, I hear the low mumble of voices. Two if I’m no mistaken. Both American, but one with a hint of…

Jackpot.

Russian.