Licensed to Kill

Chapter 32

While I waited for it to be my turn – cringe – I made quick work of setting up the private room. First, I stashed my weapons in places no one would see them but me. Next, I dimmed the lights to a low glow to better hide my identity. Then I removed my microphone wire and hung it around the glittering disco ball in the center of the ceiling – I couldn't wear it because my despicable audience would spot the tiny black item, but I could put it where it wouldn't be seen, and it would still carry sound to Matt's and Dallas's earpieces. That way, they'd be able to hear every little noise during my private show, and they'd know when to barge in if my cover was blown before I was ready to reveal my identity to our enemies. At the same time, my hair would hide the bud in my left ear and I'd be able to hear everything that was happening on the boys' end, too.

I took a couple huge gulps out of a water bottle and studied my reflection in the extra-large mirror that was leaned up against the wall. I'd taken my bun down to reveal semi-curly hair that cascaded over my shoulders and down my back, hiding not only my earpiece, but also any ability for my viewers to see through the nearly transparent material of my bra. I slipped on a short satin robe, my final wardrobe article, and now it was time to wait.

Eyeing the mirror, I thought it would come in handy. I could shimmy around the pole in the center of the room with my back to Santiago and Bellucci and still keep an eye on their every move by watching the mirror.

A loud scratch of static sounded in my earbud and I scrunched up my nose at the foul noise. Seconds later, Dallas's voice came through again, my blood pressure taking a hefty increase at his words.

"Hey, Tali. The show just ended up front," he informed me, his voice low so no one around him could hear. "Bellucci and Santiago are getting up from their chairs right now. Matt and I are going to get to work on the goons out here as soon as Dumb and Dumber head your way."

I laughed softly at his stupid nickname for the drug lords, but then footsteps coming down the hall caught my attention.

Taking one last look in the mirror, I dashed into the main dressing room that was connected to the private room by a single rickety door. I hid on the other side of the door, waiting, listening for when Santiago and Bellucci would enter the private room. I could hear their boots clanking against the squeaky floorboards. Finally, I heard the door close behind them. Now, it was my turn to perform.

Adding the final piece to my ensemble, a matte black masquerade eye mask, I walked through the dressing room out into the hallway and came face to face with one of the bodyguards who had been stationed right outside the room I would be stripping in.

I was startled by the unexpected foe, but kept my cool, awkwardly trying to walk around the broad-shouldered man who resembled a Spanish version of John Cena. Before I could reach for the doorknob, though, the guard stopped me, grabbing onto my upper arm rather harshly. I suppressed a wince at the sharp pain that shot through my healing gunshot wound.

"Soy la bailarina privada." I told him that I was the private dancer that the drug lords were expecting.

The man studied me with a sickening smirk and eyes that wandered my body hungrily. He proceeded to pat me down for weapons before I could go in, his hands lingering in places that made me especially anxious for Dallas and Matt to kick his caveman ass.

I glanced down the hall to the bar area. The loud music pulsing through the club would work wonders for muffling any sounds of a struggle between the hired guns and Matt and Dallas. Our plan could be severely compromised if Santiago or Bellucci heard any commotion outside our room.

When the bodyguard was finally finished amusing himself with the extensive pat down he'd given me, I took a deep breath and opened the door to the private room where two of the most wanted, most hated villains in Europe and the Americas sat, eagerly awaiting a scandalous strip show. It would take all the self-control I could muster not to lash out at them in rage before it was time.