Page 11 of Unhallowed Murder
Flores had told Ramirez to meet him at the club at nine, and Ronnie would be there with Detective Jamison Carter on a pretend date. Carter was black, so the two of them wouldn’t seem out of place. Probably. Their intel said black and brown both frequented the place, with the occasional white girlfriend. Josef verified their intel, but said she’d have to dress the part.
Ronnie broke down the basic plan to Josef, and ended with, “Flores’ street name is Calacas, which is the decorative skull or skeleton you see on—”
“Day of the Dead. I’m not involved with this location enough to recognize a particular patron, but I’ll check withthe people who are.”
“He has tattoos of a bunch of Calacas on his arms, if that helps. I feel guilty about asking you to be there when I’m not going to acknowledge you. I don’t know for sure when I’ll get away from work tonight, but I’ll text you when I do, so we can meet somewhere.”
“Not a problem. I’ll go to thedowntown Billiard Room when I finish with your project. Meet me there when you can.”
Chapter Eight
Ronnie had a small wardrobe unit in her office, where she kept shoes and clothing for nearly any occasion. She changed out of her pantsuit and into low, tight jeans and a skimpy spaghetti-strap shirt, with her gun in a bellyband under the jeans. It showed if you looked for it, but no one would stop her in that part of town. She slid a second magazine and some zip-ties into the slots of her belly band, and refastened her jeans.
Her hair fell out of her bun and cascaded around her face, and she added a thick layer of eyeliner and red lipstick. Finally, she sat and chose a temporary tattoo — she’d bought a variety of the heavy-duty realistic kind a while back, and should probably reorder, but the Cheshire cat would be perfect for the evening. She put it on the front of her shoulder, so the tail wrapped down and around herarm. She cut off part of a geometric design and put it on her inside right wrist.
No one ever scoped her and Jamison as cops when they went in undercover. Granted, they were usually only under a few hours, and never more than a few days, but still — they could pull it off.
She strapped her boots on and walked to the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe’s door. A few adjustments to her belly band, some bangles on her wrist, her badge in one pocket, phone in another, and she was good to go.
Jamison had gone home to get his motorcycle, but he was already back when she walked into her murder room.
He’d put on athletic shoes so white they hurt her eyes, jeans, and a snug t-shirt that showed every damned muscle.
It was really too bad she didn’t date humans. She also didn’t date anyone she worked with, so he had two strikes against him, but he was a good friend and a great partner.
Her men whistled and sent catcalls floating around the room, and she rolled her eyes at them and walked out. Carter would follow.
Agent Graham waited for them in the parking lot, and he handed them both an earpiece. The FBI utilizes tiny little one-use dots you stick to the skin just inside your ear canal. With her long hair, the county’s earpieces were fine for Ronnie, but Jamison’s hair wasn’t even a quarter of an inch long.
This wasn’t the first time Ronnie had ridden on Carter’s bike, so it didn’t seem odd to wrap her arms around his oh-so-muscular torso and lean into him. She wanted toenjoy the ride, but there was too much to think about and consider, and they were there before she knew it.
Ordering food and drinks in a bar was always tricky, because they couldn’t drink on duty — especially right before a situation where they might need to discharge a weapon — but you can’t go into a bar and order a Coke without arousing suspicion. She could drink several beers and have zero percent blood alcohol thirty minutes later because of her shapeshifter metabolism, but she couldn’t explain that to Carter. Or to her bosses.
However, this bar served beer in the bottle, which meant they could pretend to drink and no one should notice.
Josef’s voice came into her head.I’ll make sure no one notices.
Thank you.
God, she was going to have the voice in her head, the voices in her ear, and people talking to her in real life. She was used to dealing with two conversations, but three was going to push it.
I’ll keep that in mind.
No — tell me what I need to know. I’ll sort through it all. Don’t hold back to try to make it easier on me.
Carter leaned in and put his mouth to her ear. “Waitress at three o’clock, that table is known CHM. Booth in the back corner is a bookie and his muscle.”
Ronnie wondered why the Master Vampire owned this not-so-fine establishment, but didn’t ask Josef.
“Two workin’ girls at the bar,” she told Carter, her mouth to his ear. “I want cheese fries and Buffalo wings.”
The bar in the center is lined with bulletproof material so we can attempt to keep our employees safe. The Abbott owns establishments that cater to all walks of life.
He needs to put his hand inallthe cookie jars?
Josef’s telepathic chuckle was as sexy as his real one. Not that this one wasn’t real, but… she shook her head and focused.
Carter ran a proprietary finger over her Cheshire cat. “I like this. Ready for a kiss?”
