Page 2 of Illicit

And Taylor is right. I have one foot out the door. I’ve done my time in New Orleans. My transfer back to Miami was approved three months ago. To say my days are numbered in the Big Easy is an understatement. I can count them on one hand. The only reason I’m here is because curiosity runs hot through my veins. I’ve worked on this case for over a year and am about to hand it over to Taylor.

Hell, I don’t need to be here today.

But a rare appearance from Jules Robichaux is enticing. The saying that curiosity killed the cat is spot on, because I’m here instead of back at the office transitioning my cases, or at home trying to get my shit together. Not that I have much to my name, but it is more than I’ve had in my entire twenty-nine years.

“He claimed the booth at the side of the room. Private … ish.” Taylor motions to the monitor where we’re watching from the security room of the Monteleone. Businesses don’t always cooperate, but places like this don’t want drug deals going down in the corners of their establishments. The management was happy to open their security cameras to us, which means I don’t have to mess with warrants. “The booth behind him is open. I’m not sure what you’ll hear, his back will be to you. I’ll have the perfect view of whomever meets him.”

I adjust my duty weapon so it can’t be seen and slip my badge into the breast pocket of my sport coat since I can’t exactly walk into The Carousel to eavesdrop looking like a government agent. “I can’t wait to see who sits down across from him. Between my ears and your eyes, this is an opportunity we’ve never had. We might just learn something about Jules.”

“Hell yeah.” Taylor slaps me on the back like we’re watching a football game. “This is like old-school shit. No warrants. No wires. Just good old investigating. It’s time we outsmart this asshole once and for all.”

Robichaux is no different than the kind of filth I grew up around. My friends are different, my address is a major upgrade, and my closet is from a different universe thanks to the women in my life who enjoy bossing me around.

I might’ve carried a badge for the last six years, but I’ll never forget where I came from. I don’t get outsmarted by people like Robichaux. And when I do arrest people like him, I’ve got to do it by the book.

I exit the surveillance room, move through the back offices of the hotel, and make my way through the lobby.

I’m lucky this meeting didn’t go down in the height of Mardi Gras. The Carousel is busy, but not like that. It’s also four o’clock in the afternoon. It’ll be hopping in a couple hours.

Robichaux took the seat in a booth facing the door. I don’t make contact as I pass him and claim the one behind him. My ass barely hits the seat when a server is at my side and places a cocktail napkin on the low table in front of me. “What can I get you?”

I lift my chin as I pull my cell from my pocket. “I’ll stick with water until my girlfriend arrives. Thank you.”

I don’t touch my drink as I pretend to scroll on my phone. The server moves onto other tables while I pretend to wait for the fictional woman in my life. Hell, there hasn’t been anyone in my life in a long time—not casually and definitely not serious. I’ve given new meaning to throwing myself into work.

I fucking buried myself in it.

Returning to Miami has always been the end goal, even if that goal was put in place by people who think they know what’s best for me. I have more strings at my disposal than most agents in the whole damn DEA, but I’ve refused to pull them. No one gets a transfer before putting in three years. The last thing I want is people whispering behind my back that I’m not pulling my weight.

I’ve done my time and earned my spot.

I’m also more than ready.

A text comes across my screen.

Taylor – His meet might be a no-show.

Me – I’m willing to wait.

Taylor – Wait. He’s got his eyes set on a woman who just entered the bar. This might be it.

A woman.

Not what I expected.

Ty’s next text confirms my thoughts and more.

Taylor – She’s looking around. Fuck. It’s a good thing we’re not profiling. She doesn’t fit the bill as someone who would sit down with Jules. Young and hot as fuck.

Interesting.

Maybe I was wrong about Jules. I thought for sure he was dabbling in distribution, but he might be playing in prostitution instead.

But meeting a prospective girl at The Carousel?

It doesn’t jive.

Taylor – They made eye contact. I think we have a match made in hell. It’s go time.

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