Rebecca York - Undercover Encounter

TWO DAYS LATER, just as Gillian had been about to leave the station house to go over to her mom and dad’s for dinner, she got a message from the lieutenant’s office. It seemed she wasn’t off duty, after all. A training meeting for her undercover assignment was scheduled at an apartment off Esplanade Avenue, the dividing line between the French Quarter and the city’s downtown Creole neighborhood.

She changed out of her uniform and into a conservative beige pantsuit with a navy blouse—something that shouldn’t call attention to her on the street. Then she made a quick call to her parents, apologizing for canceling the evening. Already late, she tried to get to the meeting on time. But she had to fight traffic all the way from the station house. By the time she arrived in the area, the only parking space she could find was a block away.

It was getting dark as she hurried down the cracked sidewalk, all her senses on alert. And she found herself thinking about when she’d been a little girl and Mom had told her never to walk home from school alone.

If she’d been given the choice, she would have picked a better location and a better time. But that was simply par for the course. It went along with the serious second thoughts she was having about the assignment.

If anybody asked why she’d taken the undercover assignment, she could come up with some kind of idealistic answer. And it would have been true, as far as it went. She certainly wanted to help get that Category Five off the streets. But now that she had a little taste of playing prostitute, she wasn’t so sure she could handle the role. And what made it worse was the knowledge that Alexander McMullin would be sitting there watching her. She could deal with the remarks she was getting from the guys at the station house, but McMullin was another matter. With him it was personal, because he’d make it that way.

What if she asked to be reassigned? Would that be a black mark on her career? Something that would follow her through the department for years to come?

The tight feeling in her chest that she’d been fighting since she’d left the station house suddenly threatened to choke off her breath.

She’d been trying to keep her mind off the specifics of the assignment. She had to face some nasty questions. For instance, how was she going to work as a prostitute for a couple of weeks without having real sexual encounters with any of the johns?

A vivid picture of herself and a man like the one from last night alone in a bedroom came into her head, momentarily distracting her from her surroundings.

Bad mistake, because in the next second she had the feeling that someone was watching her.

She quickened her pace, scanning the immediate area, seeing nobody on the street and hearing no sound. But she felt a sudden malevolent stirring in the air—just as a hand closed around her arm. Before she could blink, a man with considerable strength pulled her into the nearby alley.

When she tried to use her police department martial arts training, the assailant was one step ahead of her, as though he knew what she was going to do before her body moved.

Another hand clamped over her mouth at the same time her body was pulled backward against a hard male form.

Desperate to escape, Gillian tried to bite the assailant. But he had anticipated that move, as well. The only thing she accomplished was to dig her front tooth into her own lip. When she winced, he pulled her deeper into the shadows.

They were several yards from the street now and she cursed herself for getting into this situation. She tried another tactic, going limp in the attacker’s arms. He was ready for that maneuver, too. When she tried to wrench away from him, he pulled her into the shadows, even farther from help.

Beyond the iron gate of a courtyard, Gillian could see potted plants and a small gurgling fountain. It looked quiet and peaceful in the courtyard, a strange place for violence.

“Open the lock,” a man growled, his mouth close to her ear, the low, intimidating timbre of his voice grating at her nerve endings. She understood that he was trying to frighten her. And she strove to keep her cool. That was difficult when she couldn’t even see him.

But she knew he was big and solid and dangerous. And she sensed a simmering anger or some other dark emotion coursing through him.

Unfortunately she was pretty sure that in the first few seconds of their encounter, he’d evaluated her strengths and weaknesses.

She didn’t want to go into that enclosed space with him, but she could feel something hard pressing into her back and had to assume he was holding a gun—and that he was prepared to use it. He could already have taken her purse, if that’s what he’d wanted. A sick feeling rose in her throat as she thought about what he probably had planned for her.

With unsteady fingers, she fumbled for the latch.

“Hurry up,” he growled.

She gritted her teeth and did as he asked. He shoved her through, kicking the barrier closed with a decisive clank behind him.

She tensed, prepared to make her move. But again he was ahead of her. In one smooth motion, he reversed her position, whirling her around to face him.

She was primed to fight for her life or to keep from being raped. But as she caught sight of the guy’s face, she felt as though a large animal had kicked her in the pit of the stomach.

“Alex,” Gillian gasped, taking in the reality of the man in a split second, starting with the wavy jet-black hair and the piercing blue eyes that had bored into her in the bar. She’d been thinking about him only minutes earlier. Maybe, deep down, she’d known he might try something she wasn’t going to like.

A few nights ago she’d been thrown off balance by the hard stare he’d aimed at her. He was having the same effect on her now. Well, it wasn’t just from the way he was looking at her. This afternoon, it seemed he’d deliberately set out to scare the spit out of her.

She knew her own eyes hardened as she said, “Alex, you…creep. What in the Sam Hill do you think you’re doing lying in wait for me?”

“Is that any way to greet your savior?” he asked, his voice low and even, yet the anger she had sensed earlier was still simmering below the surface.

He was angry? Yeah right!

He was also excellent at pushing her buttons. She’d be smart not to let him get to her. Yet too much had happened in the past few minutes for her to keep her cool.

“Savior—my posterior,” she snapped.

He laughed. It wasn’t entirely a pleasant sound. “I’m saving you from a life of prostitution.”

“Get real.”

“Okay. If you want to put it another way, I’m giving you an illustration of the dangers you’re going to be facing—if you let Lieutenant LeBarron talk you into this job.”

Lieutenant LeBarron. So he’d been poking into her chain of command. Who did he think he was?

A few moments ago she’d been questioning her ability to deal with the undercover assignment. Now all her determination and righteous indignation came bubbling to the surface. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m a key player in this operation and I intend to complete the job.”

“A key player! Is that what the lieu told you?”

She felt her chin jut upward. “Yes.”

“Well, you’re not going to be a key anything if you end up dead in an alley. Which you could have if somebody else besides a fellow law enforcement officer had grabbed you.”

She folded her arms over her middle. “You took me by surprise. And you’re not playing fair. You’ve had the same training that I have. And you used it against me.”

He ignored the second part of her objection and focused on the first. “That’s the way it happens in real life. You don’t get to pick the place and time where the bad guy is waiting for you.”