Brazen (B-Squad #1) (7 page)

Her stomach clenched. “Can we not?”

“What?” Her friend grinned as she slid the brush up Bianca’s cheekbones. “Talk about the guy who invited you to the Mile High Club?”

Heat flashed up from her toes and she was pretty damn sure she didn’t need blush anymore—or, possibly, ever again. “You could hear that?”

Elisa snorted. “Quiet, you are not.”

“We didn’t have sex.” Not that she needed to explain, but she couldn’t shut her mouth off.

“Good.” Elisa traded the blush brush for an eyeshadow palate and applicator. “But honey, if you need an orgasm that badly I will buy you a crate of Magic Wands.”

Laughing wasn’t the best idea when someone was coming at your eyes with an applicator filled with Dashing Nude eyeshadow, but Bianca couldn’t help herself. It was just what she’d needed after the day from hell.

“It’s true,” she said when she caught her breath. “A real friend gives dildos.”

“Damn straight,” Elisa said. “Now close your eyes so I can get this on and then do your eyeliner.”

Bianca did as she was told, relaxing back into the chair as she mentally went over the plan to track down Gidget at the resort. The resort’s lifestyler week and their covers would give her and Taz all the opportunities they’d need to scope out the place without raising suspicion. They knew Gidget was there. They just had to find her. Once that was done, they’d call in the DEA agents waiting a few hours offshore and the coordinated raid would go down. The DEA would get anyone tied to Genie’s Wish. The B-Squad would get Gidget.

“Okay,” Elisa said. “Time to get dressed, then it’s wig time.”

The dress.
She opened her eyes and looked over at the green and pink monstrosity. Lily Pulitzer was a certain kind of preppy Southern sorority girls’ dream designer—which is what made the outfit and the other similar ones packed in the Louis Vuitton suitcases so perfect for her cover as Bethany. People may say they didn’t, but it was human nature to categorize a person on a few visual cues and then treat them accordingly. If Bianca was seen as just another country-club newlywed out for a fun time, that’s how people would treat her, and she’d make more headway on gathering intel than she would dressed in her normal badass-bitch, head-to-toe black.

She got up from the chair and got dressed.

“So what’s the deal with Taz?” Elisa asked a few moments later as she zipped up the sheath dress’s back zipper.

Everything. Nothing. She didn’t fucking know. The uncertainty of it burned a hole in her gut six miles wide. “Beyond the fact that he’s married?”

“And yet still giving you orgasms.”

Oh God, she hadn’t thought of it that way. Bile rose up and she clutched her hand to her stomach. “Fuck. I am the other woman.”

“No. You are not.” Elisa whipped her around so they stood face-to-face, worry and regret clear in her eyes. “I was just giving you shit. Those two are divorced. She didn’t file the final paperwork, but it’s a done deal in every other way. Taz didn’t know she hadn’t filed it. Tamara’s the asshole here. Not him. Definitely not you.” She settled the honey-blonde wig over Bianca’s dark hair, which was tied back in a low bun. “I ripped out almost all the hair on his face for being an idiot, but even I know he wasn’t playing you for a fool.”

The words made sense, but the pain was too sharp, the ache too big for her heart to process. “So if you think that, why’d you wax his beard off instead of just letting him shave?”

Elisa grasped her shoulders and turned her around to face the mirror above the dresser. “Because he’s still an idiot who hurt you.”

Looking at the preppy woman with pink cheeks, a starter tan and shoulder-length blonde hair in the mirror, Bianca couldn’t help but smile. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Elisa rolled her eyes. “I know your parents so I
know
that’s not saying much.”

It was true. Her parents were consistently neglectful of her as a child and yet cruelly caring when it came down to anything that messed with the Sutherland family image. Every small kindness came with a consequence and each awkward hug hid a knife to the back.

“Look,” Elisa said, giving Bianca’s shoulders a strong squeeze. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be pissed that in six months he never mentioned being married before, but you’re so ready for everyone to disappoint you that you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop. After everything that happened at St. B’s and with your family, no one’s blaming you for that. But the thing is, Taz’s other shoe
did
drop. Now you need to stop waiting and start moving forward.”

The question was would Bianca be doing that with or without him? It was one she didn’t have an answer for and didn’t have time to think about now. They had a mission to complete, a friend to rescue and a drug kingpin to force out of business. After that? Maybe her heart could take giving Taz a second chance.

“Come on. We’re going to land soon and we still need to do a final team briefing.” She opened the door. “Let’s grab a coffee and get this show on the road.”

T
az leaned back
against the kitchenette’s shelf and rubbed his palm against his newly shorn hair. After confronting Tamara with Camacho’s information about her arrest warrant, she’d spilled like an overfilled dog bowl. She’d confirmed everything the freelance investigator had dug up and filled in the blanks in ways that made him want to hurl. The situation with Tamara was worse than he’d figured, and the bar had already been set pretty fucking low.

“So your claim is that your sister’s ex-husband was planning to auction off his own daughter’s virginity to raise cash for his little militia religious cult?”

Tamara’s jaw tightened and her hands curled into fists. “Oh he wouldn’t call it that, but that’s exactly what it was.”

“And what would he call it?”

“An arranged marriage.”

Shit. He did not have time for this. They were thirty thousand miles above the Pacific Ocean on their way to take out a drug dealer who’d outmaneuvered them at every turn and wanted to harm the woman Taz loved, and now he had to deal with a power-hungry lunatic willing to barter his own daughter for gold. It almost made him miss the good old days when he didn’t give two shits about anyone but himself. Of course, then he’d met Bianca and his whole world had changed.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he outlined his options. First, the authorities. His brother Keir had connections everywhere, but they’d already used up almost every favor owed in their search for the Genie’s Wish kingpin. Plus, it was going to take a lot to get someone true blue to overlook an active warrant. Still, if she had something concrete, he could find someone to listen.

“What kind of proof do you have?” Taz asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing that would stand up in a court of law, which is why I had to take Essie and run, why we have to keep running.”

Okay, the authorities were a no go. Second option, the B-Squad. Since all of them were currently in the same jet as he was, that was a no go too. Third, Camacho. The freelance investigator wasn’t a team player, but he had the tools to keep Tamara and Essie safe until evidence was found showing how much of a danger Jarrod was to the girl. And if that didn’t come through, Camacho could help them get lost—he’d already done it with his own identity.

“And the million dollars you tried to extort from me was supposed to finance this?”

She didn’t avert her gaze, but her cheeks turned pink. “I have some money but not enough. I didn’t have any other way to get enough for the fake identities and to start a new life.”

“You have the contacts for those?” He already knew the answer, but he had to ask.

Her chin jutted up. “I’ll get them.”

Sure she would. More like she’ll lose half the cash to a scam artist.
Taz scrubbed a palm across his face. Pain from a sudden tension headache stabbed him right through the temple. Leaving Tamara and Essie to their own devices was not an option. He had to put a call into Camacho and bring him up to speed before they landed at Indulgence Resort.

“Where is Essie now?”

“Somewhere safe.” The statement came out sharp, but Tamara couldn’t hide the worried wobble in her tone.

In over her head didn’t begin to describe the situation. If she’d only told him the truth earlier… “Why not ask for help?”

She choked out a pained laugh. “Are you kidding? Who would help me?” She closed her eyes and exhaled a deep breath. “Look, we both know that I’m not a good person. I never have been. I’m selfish, mean and willing to do whatever it takes to get my way. Everyone sees me that way. Hell, it’s exactly how I see myself because it’s true. But my sister? She didn’t.”

She raised her gaze to the ceiling and blinked several times before bringing her focus back to him. “She was the one person who saw something else. I owe her for not coming to help sooner. It’s my fault she was trapped with Jarrod as long as she was. She needed my help and I was too busy being a bitch to do her any bit of good.” Tears spilled over her cheeks in black-tinted rivers and the tip of her nose was Rudolph red. “I shouldn’t have tried to extort you but it was the only option I could come up with. Essie is a sixteen-year-old girl with her whole life ahead of her—but only if I can keep her away from Jarrod. And we have to hide so well he’ll never find us, because he won’t give up. If he gets her back to Idaho, she’ll be married off to the highest bidder and then hidden away in a commune where women are considered living proof of Eve’s sin and made to pay for it every day. Please. She’s just a girl.”

On the last word, Tamara’s voice cracked and her whole body seemed to curl into itself. For the first time since she’d waltzed off the elevator and into his living room, he didn’t think she was full of shit. Too much of her story rang true and fit in with what Camacho had already told him.

In that moment, as her shoulders shook and she wept silently, she wasn’t the bitch ex-wife who’d turned Taz’s life upside down. Instead, she was the woman he’d met at a McDonald’s all those years ago when they were both sneak-eating a Big Mac. They’d bonded over the high-calorie pleasure forbidden for both of them—for her, because she was expected to win the Miss American Beauty contest in a few days, and for him, because he was in training for his next big fight.

Obviously, she was scared, hurt and overwhelmed. She needed to know someone was in her corner and right now, for better or worse, that person was him.

“Fuck me,” he groaned as he drew her into his arms. “We’ll figure something out to keep Essie safe.”

Tamara looked up at him, her face a blotchy red mess, complete with running mascara, and gave him a shaky smile. “Thank you, Taz. I promise you won’t regret it.”

She lifted herself on her tiptoes and leaned toward him just as he turned his head. The kiss she’d no doubt meant for his cheek, ended up on his lips.

Right at that moment the curtain blocking the kitchenette from the rest of the cabin was flung open. Instinctively, he pushed Tamara back. Elisa stood there with a blonde woman who looked completely pissed off even though he had no clue who—
oh hell
.

Tamara was wrong. He was regretting it already.

* * *

Fury smacking both of her cheeks red, Bianca whipped the curtain closed, turned on her stiletto-clad foot and marched down the cabin to the large television screen embedded in the wall. Elisa followed on her heels while the rest of the team avoided her gaze. Vivi was in the cockpit, piloting the jet, but the intercom was on so she could hear everything that her former boss said. DEA agent Clay Blackfish was already on the screen, scowling as usual. Good. That made them even on the shitty mood continuum.

“Where in the hell is Bianca?” the agent asked as he scanned the assembled B-Squad members, his gaze traveling past her in her Bethany getup.

“Right here,” she said and sat down in a chair situated in the middle of the table directly in front of the screen.

Clay’s dark eyes widened. “Well, fuck me.”

“No thank you.” She flipped open the folder that contained all of her mission notes. “Can we get down to business now?”

The agent chuckled. “Yep, it’s you alright.”

No one on her end of the camera let out even a squeak of a giggle—the amount of tension in the room didn’t allow for that.

“Holy crap.” Clay let out a low whistle. “Taz, if I didn’t already know the situation, I wouldn’t have picked you out of a lineup.”

Keeping her chin high and her shoulders straight, she refused to peek over her shoulder at the man she could feel approaching. If she closed her eyes, all she’d see would be him and Tamara locked in an embrace, which was pretty much the last thing she needed if she wasn’t going to ruin the ten pounds of contouring makeup Elisa had used to alter her appearance.

“Blackfish.” Taz acknowledged the agent before sitting down at the table next to Bianca.

She stiffened. She couldn’t help it. Knowing he might be accidentally still married to a woman he hadn’t seen in years was one thing, seeing him kiss her quite another. The pencil in her hand snapped. With exacting care, she sat it to the side and got another from the cup on the table.

“After three days sitting bored off our asses on this boat in the middle of fucking nowhere in the Pacific, I was beginning to think this plan of Bianca’s didn’t have a one-legged dog’s chance of winning,” Clay said, interrupting her train of thought before she figured a way into the armory in the jet’s locked hull. “However, I have to say, seeing you two has upped my confidence significantly. I give this mission a solid thirty-eight percent chance of being a success.”

“As always, I’m overwhelmed by your support,” Bianca said, letting Clay’s snarky pessimism roll off her back.

It took twenty long minutes to go over the last-minute details with the DEA agent and the rest of the B-Squad. The latest rumors were that the newest formula of Genie’s Wish was its most powerful and was nearly ready for distribution. Every unsavory character with a power trip and a grudge was lining up for a piece of the action. Not surprisingly for those without any sort of ethics or conscience, having the chance to control your enemies by turning them into a walking zombie obsessed with sex, violence or risk was too good to pass up.

“One last thing, Bianca,” Clay said before she could hit the disconnect button. “I know your friend was spotted at the resort, but I can’t give you more than forty-eight hours before we go in. Period. No exceptions.”

She didn’t like it, but she didn’t expect anything less. The B-Squad’s relationship with the DEA was prickly at best and if it wasn’t for the fact that the feds hadn’t been able to get anyone anywhere near as close to the people in charge of the drug ring as Bianca and her team had, they wouldn’t have any relationship at all.

“Trust me,” she replied, her finger hovering over the end-call button as she glanced over at Taz. “The sooner we can end this charade, the better.” And that went for the mission too.

She pushed the button and the screen went blank.

No one said a word as she pushed her chair back and stood up, the balls of her feet protesting. The sky-high heels weren’t really her thing, but they were the perfect exclamation point to the Bethany look—and that’s all that mattered. Her pulse picked up when Taz stood behind her, close enough that the woodsy scent of his cologne wrapped around her. Fighting its siren call, she surveyed the rest of her team. As soon as the jet landed in a few minutes, she wouldn’t see them again until all of this was over and they had Gidget.

“Okay, it’s go time,” she said. “Remember to stick to the plan. You’ll wait for us to disembark and then take the private car to the marina. A chartered boat will take you to the Sutherland yacht anchored a few miles out to sea. Everything you’ll need is either in the bags we brought or already onboard the ship. If you’ve got any questions, comments or concerns, voice ’em now.”

Lexie, Keir, Elisa, Duke and Lash didn’t move. Tamara raised her hand—the one with the big-ass diamond wedding ring on it.

“I need to tell you something,” she said.

Bianca narrowed her eyes and gave the other woman a look that should have sent her running. “This isn’t the time.”

“Actually, it is.” Tamara’s gaze skittered around the cabin, but she stood her ground.

“Tamara—”

Tamara held up her hand, cutting Taz off. “No, she needs to know before you get off this jet. I was so concerned with doing what had to be done that I didn’t think about anyone else. My niece Essie’s safety was the only thing I could concern myself with.” She paused long enough to let out a shaky breath. “Taz and I
aren’t
married. I filed the papers years ago, but I got in a jam with some very bad people, and extorting money so Essie and I could disappear seemed like the only solution. I figured the money would be in an offshore account long before he discovered the truth about our divorce.”

She gave Taz an apologetic smile before turning her attention back to Bianca. “I was desperate to save my niece—I still am—but I shouldn’t have done what I did. What you saw in the kitchenette wasn’t what it looked like. After I confessed everything to Taz, he said he’d help me get Essie to a place where her father could never find her and use her for his own gain. I meant to give him a thank-you peck on the cheek, he turned his head, you walked in…and once again I made everything worse. I’m sorry.”

Bianca swallowed and opened her mouth. Nothing came out. And here Bianca had thought she couldn’t be surprised any more after Tamara had waltzed into Taz’s loft that morning.

Divorced. Extortion. Hiding. Essie. The various parts of Tamara’s explanation bounced around inside Bianca’s head, never quite settling down to form a cohesive thought. Considering the absolute silence in the cabin at the moment, she wasn’t the only one having trouble processing the news.

A
bing
sounded, followed by static on the intercom.

“While I love a good dramatic moment as much as the next chick,” Vivi’s voice came out of the cabin’s speakers, “it’s time to take your seats and buckle up. We’re here.”