The Grifter
Chapter 8

Okay, fine. Shawn would admit it. He was sitting here, in the middle of a highly questionable nightclub, making conversation with the one woman he had to guard himself against most, and it wasn’t hell.

Nope. With Frankie’s lips curved in that dark red, sin-s3xy smile, it was far hotter, not to mention far more dangerous, than hell could possibly be.

For f**k’s sake, he chided himself as he slid a quick glance around the club. As much as he hated it, Frankie wasn’t wrong. They’d be here for hours, and they had to look like a couple, out for a night of fun. Sitting across from each other in silence wasn’t going to be very convincing, and they couldn’t exactly talk about work, even if they were just doing recon and trying to land in Alfie’s line of sight.

Still, his defenses were made of some weapons-grade stuff, so he kept the focus squarely on Frankie. “So, was that your first marathon, then?”

“My third,” Frankie admitted. “I trained with my brother and his husband, Edwin. They’ve done, like, nine marathons together. They’d be adorable if they weren’t so merciless.”

Okay, yeah, this was good. Her family was a) super Italian, b) wildly close-knit, and c) nothing short of massive. They’d have conversation fodder for days, and none of it would be about him, or the way his c0ck had gotten no less than a dozen filthy ideas at the sight of her in that dress.

Jesus, he needed to focus. “It sounds like Marco is well,” Shawn said, his pulse thumping at Frankie’s bright, unguarded smile.

“He is. He and Edwin got married last year. He’s still in Savannah, along with my parents and Gianna and Josephine. My cousin, Angelina, actually lives here in Remington. She’s the head chef at La Lumière. Do you know it?”

Shawn let out a low whistle. “She must be damn good at her job. That place has a two-month waitlist.” Not to mention a fairly serious price tag per plate.

“Knowing Lina, I’m not surprised. I wanted to try to get out to see her, but now, with this…”

He got it. Working UC was dicey when it had the potential to collide with your real world. Most of his close friends were cops or first responders, so they knew never to walk up to him or call his name if they saw him in public unless he did so to them, first. There might not be a high likelihood that he’d run into someone he knew while working UC, but a blown cover wasn’t something he ever wanted to risk.

“There are ways around it,” he said.

Frankie smiled. “I hope they involve delivery. Finding really good carbonara, like my nonnina makes? Not an easy task.”

Shawn’s laugh tackled him from out of nowhere. “Still thinking with your stomach, I see.”

“Hell, yes,” Frankie laughed back. “My parents raised me right.”

Angling the conversation further in her court, he asked, “How are your sisters?”

Frankie didn’t hesitate, and damn, she was so comfortable talking about herself and her family that it made the bowstring of his muscles loosen by default.

“Gianna’s married with three kids—all boys, God bless her. And Jo has a five-year-old daughter. She’s a single mom, but it’s better that way.”

“Better how?” Shawn asked.

“They were a sh!t couple. Both great parents,” she added. “Her ex dotes on Mikayla, and they share custody. But let’s just say he’s not cut out for monogamy. After Jo caught him cheating the second time…”

Frankie trailed off with a shrug, and Shawn couldn’t help it. His brows shot upward. “This guy cheated on your little sister. Twice?”

“He did.” Frankie paused to sip her drink thoughtfully, her eyes scanning the darkened space around them for a minute before continuing. “He’s certainly not perfect, or, hell, even close. He’s a good father, though, and he’s been able to admit that he doesn’t want a serious relationship, with Jo or anybody else. Don’t get me wrong—Jo was pissed, not to mention hurt”—here, Frankie’s eyes flashed—“and that pissed me off, too. But in the end, she realized they couldn’t make each other happy by staying together. Staying angry would’ve only hurt her daughter, so she worked through it. ”

“That’s awfully Zen,” Shawn said. If he’d had a sister, especially one with whom he was close, like Frankie and Jo, he’d be tempted to throttle the guy.

As if she read his mind, Frankie smiled. “Don’t think I didn’t want to kick her ex’s as*s, at first. I don’t take well to cheaters, especially when they make my sister cry. Kicking his as*s wouldn’t have changed her hurt, though. Plus, my therapist frowns on physical aggression as an outlet for anger, so…”

Her expression was so open and easygoing that his next question vaulted right out of his mouth. “Therapy, huh? No offense, but you never struck me as the type to buy into that.”

Her laugh was throaty and so hot, Shawn damn near had to catch his breath. “Everyone’s the type for therapy. I might’ve fought it in the beginning, and pretty hard, at that”—she gave him a self-deprecating nod—“but ultimately, I didn’t really have a choice. I’m an addict. I needed help, and therapy was a mandatory part of my rehab program. That, and having a really good support system, turned out to be the things that helped me the most.”

Shawn’s pulse kicked, and yeah, he needed to proceed with extreme f*****g care. “I’m, uh. Glad it worked,” he grunted.

Either Frankie was extremely perceptive (likely) or as wary of discussing their past as he was (really, really likely), because she said, “Well. Look at me, hogging all the conversation. What about you?”

Not much better than talking about their past and the support system from which he’d been notably absent, but at this point, Shawn couldn’t get choosy. “Me? I’m good.”

When it became clear he wasn’t going to elaborate, Frankie snorted. “Way to kill it with the details, buddy.”

Shawn huffed out a laugh, scattering the tension that had built in his shoulders.

“There’s not much to tell,” he said, and it was true. Although his parents had loved him fiercely, they’d never planned to have children. He’d been one hell of a surprise baby, born when his mother was forty and his father forty-six. They’d both passed away in the two years he and Frankie had been partners as patrol cops, and he had no other family to speak of.

Well, except for everyone at the Thirty-Third. “I really just stick to work.”

She nodded, then whammied him with, “No girlfriend, then?”

“Nope,” he said, just a shade rougher than he’d intended to, and she bit her l*p in apology.

“Sorry, was that too direct?”

The sight of her l*p between her teeth sent a spear of heat on top of his racing pulse, and this time, he made sure the cover on his feelings was airtight before he said, “I didn’t think you knew how to be anything but.”

She tilted her head in a wordless translation of fair enough. “The job doesn’t make relationships easy, does it?”

Shawn thought of the mutually-agreed-to one-night stands he had from time to time and, damn, she wasn’t wrong. He opened his mouth to agree, just enough to tie off the subject once and for all, but then, Frankie’s spine straightened.

“Here we go,” she murmured, leaning forward and running her fingers over the cuff of his shirt, perfectly smoothing over the way she’d just sprung to attention. “Alfie’s at your seven.”

A beat passed, then another. Then, from the side of that infernally s3xy mouth came, “He just sat down in the third booth from the bar. Leo’s brother, Ty, is with him, and so is another guy. White, dark hair.” She stroked her way over his wrist, looking for all the world as if she was just flirting with him, and Christ, she was good. “Mid-twenties. Tattoo on his neck.”

“That’s not ringing any bells,” Shawn said. They’d have to run the database to ID the third guy on Monday, but a lot of these frequent flyers were already on the gang unit’s radar.

Frankie’s fingers never broke their rhythm on his hand, but the subtle flush of her cheeks told him her heartbeat had sped with excitement. “Would you look at that? Our good friend, Leo, just walked in, too.”

Nowthey were talking. “Copy.”

Her eyes darted to Shawn’s left, where Leo appeared about eight feet away. He headed for the bar, making only the briefest eye contact with Frankie on his way.

Shawn dumped the contents of his glass under the table in a well-practiced move. “I’m suddenly thirsty. You?”

“Parched,” she said, draining the last of her club soda. She unfolded her legs from beneath the table and stood, smiling as she reached for his hand. He stuffed back the visceral burst of fuuuuck yes coming from deep in his gut as their fingers entwined—this was business, not pleasure, for Chrissake—and let her lead him to the bar. Using his changed vantage point, Shawn scanned the booths along the far wall, adrenaline pushing his pulse into a steady thump-thump-thump as he zeroed in on Alfie. The guy’s hair was a little longer than it had been in his last mug shot, but between that carrot top and the loud laughter that told Shawn he was already halfway around the curve of a pretty epic bender, there was no doubt it was him.

“Leo,” Frankie purred, sidling up beside him at the bar. “So nice to see you out.” She flicked a lightning-fast look at the booth where Alfie sat. “And in such good company, too.”

A flash of unease moved through Leo’s stare, but it was gone an instant later. He might not be a saint, but he sure wasn’t stupid. He knew he had to sell this, too.

“What’s up, bruh?” he asked Shawn, shaking his hand and leaning in for a shoulder bump.

“Same old,” Shawn replied as Leo ordered a drink. As soon as the bartender had done the mix/shake/pour routine and left them to their end of the bar, he added, “So, who’s the extra in your party?”

Leo smiled as if they were old friends catching up. Good. “Cade Hicks,” he said quietly. “You weren’t wrong. Alfie’s definitely recruiting for his cousin. He’s got Hicks and Ty on the line for this gig. They’re looking to move some serious weight.”

“We want in,” Frankie said, but Leo shook his head.

“I told you, it’s not gonna be that easy. Hicks and Ty are part of Alfie’s crew. He knows them.”

Shawn nodded. “We get it, man. Our expectations haven’t changed. All we want is an intro. We’ll do the rest.”

“Good,” Leo grumbled, “because it’s all you’re getting from me. After that, I’m out.”

“It’s just like we said,” Shawn told him. “I’m a mechanic. You know me from working at the garage. Easy.”

“You’d just better keep your end of the deal,” Leo said.

A thought pricked at Shawn, and it wasn’t a good one. “You didn’t tell Ty, did you?”

“Do I look stupid to you?” Leo covered his irritation with a long sip of his drink. “If Ty knew about this and Beck found out, Beck would kill him. I ain’t jamming up my own brother. It’s bad enough he’s working for the guy.”

Frankie leaned an elbow on the bar and smiled, likely in an effort to smooth things over. “Okay, we get it. We’ll keep him safe. Now, do me a favor. Look over at Alfie’s table and gesture, like you’re telling us you’re here with friends.”

For a split second, confusion clouded Leo’s expression. But then, he saw what Shawn saw. Alfie was watching their exchange with growing interest.

More specifically, he was watching Frankie with growing interest.

Shawn slipped further into character, hardening his jaw and pressing a hand against Frankie’s lower back. Leo gestured as instructed, and Frankie’s stare wandered over to meet Alfie’s with perfect timing. She gave him a stunner of a smile that had him out of his seat in less than a second.

And what do you know. Shawn’s dislike for the guy instantly tripled.

He didn’t have much time to think about it, though, because less than a minute later, Alfie landed at the bar. “Leo! My man!” He leaned in for an elaborate handshake/shoulder bump/back slap move. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Shawn had to give Leo credit. He remained entirely cool, his smile unwavering. “Come on, dude. You know I don’t play that way.”

“Then how is it that you have the acquaintance of this fine, fine young woman and I don’t?”

Alfie looked at Frankie and grinned, not even bothering to hide the way his stare lingered on her breasts, and yeah, Shawn couldn’t wait to slap handcuffs on him when all of this was said and done.

Leo cleared his throat. “Ah, yeah. This here is my girl, Frankie, and her boyfriend, Shawn. Shawn’s a mechanic. We both put up with Hector’s bullsh!t at the garage for a while before Shawn got smart and quit.”

“Nice,” Alfie said, his eyes never leaving Frankie. “And what do you do, Frankie?”

“Lots of things.” She let her smile hang for a beat. “My job is boring, though. I’d way rather party.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Placing a hand on the bar, he angled toward Frankie, but Shawn snaked an arm around her, guiding her back just enough to regain the personal space. He knew Frankie could handle herself, but Shawn Pritchard wasn’t the kind of guy who’d let anyone—least of all an as*shat like Alfie—anywhere near his woman. He didn’t just need to play the part. He needed to be the part.

Frankie pressed in at Shawn’s side, but still batted her lashes at Alfie. “Actually, Leo here was just saying you might be able to help us out with that.”

Alfie’s smile defied logic by growing even cheesier. “I am a helpful guy. What kind of fun are we talking?”

Shawn’s pulse sped faster. He’d known they’d likely have to make a few low-level buys in order to gain Alfie’s trust; after all, nothing screamed not a cop quite like breaking the damn law. They were playing the long game, though, and even though it was informal, this meet was on the books. Anything they’d buy would go directly to an evidence bag and get inventoried right down to the gram.

Still, he wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the streak of unease on Frankie’s face when they’d first walked in. Just because she’d been well aware of what she was getting into by going undercover didn’t mean it wasn’t sh!tty for her.

Flattening his hand across the back of her rib cage, he took the lead. “Score some H? If you’ve got it.”

Alfie bit, hook, line, and ego. “Would you listen to this guy?” He laughed, shaking his head at Leo. “If I’ve got it. What a comedian! Of course I’ve got it.”

“Told you,” Leo put in, and Frankie licked her lips, then smiled.

“He did. Leo said you were the best.”

Alfie jerked his head toward the booth where Ty and Cade were sitting. “Let’s head over to my office. Then we can party together after I hook you up.” His stare roamed Frankie’s body again, and Jesus, this fvcker was shameless. “I’d love to get to know you a little better.”

Annnnd no. “Cool of you to offer, man.” Shawn put just enough edge to his stare to make Alfie take a step back without scaring him off entirely. “But we were going for some privacy. If you know what I mean.”

Alfie hesitated, and sh!t. Sh!t.

Before Shawn could recalibrate, Frankie slipped the hem of her dress an inch higher over her thighs in a wildly s3xy distraction.

“It’s just that getting high makes me a little hot”—she ran a hand over his chest, and his heart kicked in response—“and Shawn doesn’t like to share.”

Alfie followed the mental breadcrumbs and gave Shawn a grin nothing short of lecherous. “Okay, okay. I get it. Can’t say I blame you, dude. But, for a friend of Leo’s”—he paused to shrug—“I can hook you up, no problem.”

Alfie was as well-practiced with the handoff as Shawn was making an undercover buy, and the transaction was done in seconds. Shawn pulled Frankie back to his side, turning toward the restrooms, and Alfie nodded knowingly.

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

Frankie’s eyes glittered in the shadowy light of the club, sending a bolt of involuntary heat through Shawn’s belly, like a reflex.

“Maybe we’ll do it again sometime,” she murmured.

And with that, they were on their f*****g way.