The Intelligence Unit Series
The Grifter Chapter 12

long, would have to wait.

Frankie was ninety-nine percent certain her heart was going to catapult directly from her rib cage to the floor of the club. But she had to focus on the right now. The emotion that had corkscrewed through her at Shawn's admission, of the guilt he'd carried for so Oh, God, had she really been less than an inch from kissing him?

Alfie's smile planted her in the moment, reminding her to keep her senses razor sharp. "So, baby girl. Let's replace a place to sit where we can be more private. I brought you something I think you're gonna like."

She watched Shawn move to the bar, outside of earshot but definitely within her line of vision, and she within his. Separating like this was risky, she knew. But it was the only way they were going to get this done. "You did?" Frankie smiled enough to stroke his ego, keeping her arm at crook of his elbow. Easier to keep him from grabbing her a*s that way. "You're so good to us, Alfie."

"Well, what can I say?" Alfie winked through the shadows as he led her to an empty booth, still within sight of the bar, thank God. "I like you, Frankie."

Before he could pop off with the proposition she felt coming like a haymaker, she slid as close to him as she dared and widened her eyes. "I'm really glad to hear that, because I'm in a jam, and I was wondering..." She trailed off to bite her lip, hoping like hell she wasn't overdoing it.

But no, Alfie was high enough that the suggestion worked its magic. "What? You know you can talk to me, sweetheart." His gaze flicked to the bar, where Shawn was artfully taking his time. "We don't even have to tell Shawn. It can be our little secret." "He might be mad if I tell you, but I don't know where else to turn." Putting a tiny wobble in her voice, she said, "I lost my job at the doctor's office. I was only late a couple of times, but the office manager, my boss? She's a huge bitch."

Turning up the wobble, she continued. "She's the doctor's wife, you know? He had to listen to her. I bet he fired me just to shut her up. But I can't get a job anywhere without a reference. Shawn and I can't get by on what he makes at the garage, and we're gonna lose our place. I need some money, fast."

Alfie's hand found Frankie's knee, and she clamped down on the urge to have a chat with him about consensual touching and personal space. Or, you know, break his fingers. "You're a very pretty woman. You could make a lot of money keeping people company. I could introduce you around, make accommodations."

It took every ounce of acting ability Frankie had to remain passive. Was he seriously offering to be her pimp? "Shawn would never go for that."

"True. He is the jealous type, isn't he?"

As if on cue, Shawn appeared at the booth in the same instant Alfie's hand disappeared from her knee. "Hope I'm not interrupting."

Frankie let out a breath. "I told him, Shawn. About my job."

Irritation flashed over Shawn's face, and God, he was good. "And I told you, I have that under control."

"But you don't," Frankie said, rapidly blinking as if she were about to cry. "We don't. We need help. We need Alfie."

Shawn sat in the semi-circular booth, strategically putting enough space between himself and the closer knot of her and Alfie, to make himself the odd man out. "Frankie-"

"She was smart to come to me," Alfie said with a cocky shrug. "I've got something in mind, but it would involve both of you, and there are some conditions."

Shawn lifted his chin, just once. "I'm listening."

Alfie tugged a vape pen from his jacket pocket, the magic question arriving through a thick cloud as he exhaled. "You ever move any product for anyone?"

Yes. Frankie's eyes darted to Shawn, her pulse accelerating when he said, "Maybe."

"Maybe's not going to cut it," Alfie snorted, getting bolder. "Not for this job."

"Yes," Frankie said, giving Shawn a slightly defiant look to play the whole thing off. "He has. We both have. In Detroit, before we moved here. We had a good thing going before the guy we worked with got busted, too." Shawn flexed his jaw in perfectly manufactured irritation. "You need to keep your mouth shut."

"What?" Frankie pouted. "It's not like it's not true."

"It's my business," he said, and she countered with just enough fire.

"It's mine, too. I was there, making half those deals, in case you forgot."

Alfie shook his head, his used-car-salesman smile flashing like neon. "Look, I'm not going to spill your business. I'm a vault, you know?" He pointed to himself with both index fingers. "Plus, I think we can scratch each other's backs. Turns out, I'm looking for some people with certain connections who are willing to move some weight, and Frankie here might just fit the bill."

"Me?" This time, her surprise was genuine. What was Alfie getting at?

"You, sweet cheeks. But before we talk details, I need some assurances." His cheesy smile lost some of its shine. "The guy in charge is a little, ah. Protective. Also, private."

Shawn lifted a dark brow over an even darker stare. "Are you asking if we can keep our mouths shut and deliver?"

Alfie shrugged, more nervous tic than indifference, and Jesus, Beck had him scared. "It's not me who's asking, but it's my a*s on the line if you can't, so, yeah. I'd need to know you can back your shit up."

"We can," Frankie said, nodding for emphasis. Shawn's nod was slower in coming, but after a beat, he gave in.

"We're good for it. What'd you have in mind?"

"It's a killer deal. Biggest Remington's seen." Alfie's eyes lit up, and with them, Frankie's hopes. "We're going to run the market on prescription drugs. Vicodin, Percocet, morphine, Oxy...that, and our fair share of fentanyl, just for grins. My guy is going to be the only name in the business." Frankie's heart nearly stopped. "You're not talking about moving heroin?"

"Nah." Alfie waved a hand through the shadows that Frankie prayed were covering her shock right now. "That market is so played out, you know? Clientele for prescription fun is where it's at. These people will pay anything to get high. And they're smarter about staying on the down low. Rich-a's motherfuckers don't want their dirty laundry aired."

Nausea built in her belly, threatening to topple her. But then, she caught sight of Shawn across the table, his presence strong and silent and so right there with her that she scraped in a breath. "Tell me about it. That doctor's office I got fired from was full of patients just like that. So entitled. Whining for pain pills all the damned time."

"That's your angle, right?" Shawn asked Alfie. "You want us to start a client list based on the patient database."

"You have to admit, it would be a good start," Alfie replied. Turning toward her, he asked, "Can you still get access?"

Frankie chewed her lip, her brain spinning. Think. Think. "Well, they pulled all my access when they fired me, but I know the bitch's password. If I went someplace public, where it couldn't be traced, I could log in and get the patient list."

"We're not sharing it, though," Shawn said. Whether it was a bargaining chip or an undercover technicality, Frankie didn't know, but she nodded to back it up. "We'll get the list and make our own contacts. Do our own deals. You supply us with the product, and we'll take care of moving it. No questions about our buyers. Like you said, they're gonna be shy!"

"Beck won't like that," Alfie said, wincing at his mistake. "The boss man doesn't like to be left in the dark."

Shawn shrugged. "Too bad. I'm not dumb enough to give him my list of buyers just so he can edge me out. Frankie and I can move his product for him, and a shitload of it, too. He supplies the drugs, we sell them and give him his cut. We get pinched, we don't know him, but he doesn't get anything else. Take it or leave it."

Alfie, thank God, considered this. "I'll ask him about it."

"Alfie, you'd really be saving us," Frankie said, clasping his forearm. She needed to seal this deal, airtight. "I promise, I'm good for it. I routed so many prescriptions for Oxy to the nurse line there. Not to mention the calls for Ambien and Xanax."

"That's a great idea," Alfie said, and bam. They were golden. "I'll bring it to the boss and tell him you can move it. See what availability looks like."

Shawn cleared his throat, leaning over the table to look at Alfie more closely. "Not to be an a*****e, but the clock is kind of ticking on this. When are you gonna talk to this guy? Beck?"

"Soon, man."

"Tomorrow." Shawn took out his burner phone, gesturing to Alfie. Close, close. So close. "Why don't you text me right now so you'll have my number?"

Alfie smiled. "Why don't I grab Frankie's number instead? She's the one with the contacts, right?"

"Well, it's me and Shawn together, but..." She poured just enough coyness into her smile before slipping her burner phone out of her purse. "You can take my number if you want. Since we'll be business partners, and all. Right?"

"You bet, sweetheart." Alfie took her number, texting her from his cell before slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I need to hit the bar for a drink so I can enjoy a little pick-me-up." The pills he produced from his jacket made Frankie's palms go clammy and cold. "Unless you want to sample the goods?"

"Not 'til the deal is done," Shawn said.

"Suit yourself. I'll call you soon." With a sleazy wink that made Frankie want a shower and a scrub brush, Alfie slid out of the booth and headed toward the bar. She waited a handful of seconds, a.k.a. about a million giddy heartbeats, before she looked at Shawn. "Do you want to get out of here?" She had a minute, maybe two, before her happiness would be impossible to contain. Not only had her plan worked, but the spin they'd put to it, with her having a potential client list all ready to go, was far too enticing for Beck to pass up. He'd have to cut them in, and once he did, they'd take his a*s down.

"Sure."

Shawn must have had the same dose of oh, hell yes in his veins as she did, because a smile twitched at the edges of his mouth. They'd barely made their way out of the club and into the chilly night before they were both grinning. By the time they got to the truck, which they'd parked a few blocks from Bang's front door, neither one of them could contain their laughter.

"Oh, my God," Frankie said, whirling toward Shawn from the passenger seat. "Did that just happen?"

"It did," Shawn confirmed. "You were right. Alfie ate the whole thing up with a spoon."

"And you were brilliant. Not sharing the client list makes our cover so much more airtight."

"You sure you're okay with the change up in market?" he asked, and her throat tightened.

No way. She couldn't let anything ruin this. She was in recovery, and she was never going back down that road. "It's not my favorite thing," she admitted. "But if it means getting this stuff off the street and getting Beck behind bars, I'm all in." "You're pretty amazing, you know that?"

Shawn looked as surprised to have said the words as Frankie was to hear them, but he didn't try to deny them. "No more amazing than you, really. We did this together."

"Yeah. We did."

He'd turned all the way toward her, leaning over the slim console of the pickup to further cut the space between their bodies. Despite the coolness inside the truck, Frankie felt impossibly hot, and all at once, her heart began pounding for a totally different reason than happiness.

"I wanted to kiss you," she blurted, and ooookay, awesome. Looked like her honesty had an utterly brutal setting. Not that it wasn't accurate. "In the club, just now, when we were dancing."

"Why didn't you?" he asked.

"We were working. We set"-her belly swooped, warmth blooming right between her thighs as Shawn reached up to run his thumb beneath her chin-"rules."

"You wanted to break them." His thumb coaxed a sigh out of her, the touch feather-light. Frankie nodded, and he brought his mouth right up to hers before smiling.

"Go ahead. Take what you want."

Her lips were on his in an instant. She nearly cried out with relief-oh, God, he felt just as good as she remembered. But then, he was parting her mouth with an insistent sweep of his tongue, and forget crying out. She wanted him so much, she couldn't f*****g breathe.

Reaching up for the front of his shirt, Frankie curled her fists over the fabric and yanked Shawn toward her. The move earned her a dirty growl of approval, his smile wicked against her mouth, and Frankie met his tongue with hers. Swirling. Searching. More.

"Need you. Now," Frankie gasped out as he moved his kisses from her mouth to her neck. Apparently, full sentences weren't within her capability right now. Shawn seemed to get the picture just fine, though, his eyes glinting darkly in the shadows of the truck. He trailed lower, tasting a path across the neckline of her dress, and Frankie's nipples turned to hard, needy points, begging to be next.

A dim voice in some back hallway of her mind told her this was crazy. Yes, the street had been empty of people when they'd gotten into the truck. Most people at Bang used the valet, and all the businesses on this street were long closed. Still, even in the shadows, they didn't have total privacy. Someone could stumble by and catch a glimpse of them. But the heat pulsing through her-and the demand that went with it-was too strong to fight. She wasn't taking a break, or even a breath. She hadn't felt need like this in years; not, if she were being honest, since the last time Shawn had put his mouth on her.

Oh, how Frankie wanted him. Wild and hot and now.

Where they were didn't matter, just as long as he didn't stop.

A feeling that seemed very, very mutual when Shawn swept the neckline of her dress aside to expose one lace-covered b****t.

"F**k," he grated, his breath on her body sending a bolt of want right to her c**t. "I missed you."

The emotion in the simple words arrowed all the way through Frankie, somehow making her want him even more. "Please," she begged, and-thank God-he didn't make her wait. Shawn dragged his tongue over her n****e in a hard, hot stroke. A guttural sound came out of Frankie's throat at the friction of his mouth over the lace and her hyper-sensitive skin, and she shamelessly arched against him in a demand for more.

He gave it. Cupping her b****t with a rough hand, he pulled her n****e past his lips, working her in fast pulls that turned her moans into gasps. Need built deep in her belly, and she scrambled roughly for the edge of her dress, desperate for release. Shawn met her halfway with his free hand, sliding it between her thighs. He didn't tease or take his time, and Frankie didn't want him to. Instead, he pressed the heel of his palm against her c**t, creating just enough friction to make her p***y clench. Reaching down, she grabbed his wrist with one hand, guiding the motion of his palm while using her other hand to hold his head in place at her b****t.

Approval rumbled up from Shawn's chest. Frankie's panties had gone from damp to soaked, and he hooked his fingers around the scrap of silk, gliding it up and down with ease.

"Oh my f*****g God," Frankie moaned. Sparks lit off deep between her hips, her c**t throbbing harder, then harder still with each pass. "Need you so bad."

Shawn lifted his head, meeting her eyes in the dim light. "Come for me, Frankie. Let me give you what you need."

He slid the fabric over her one more time, and that was it. Her o****m tore through her, her slick inner muscles squeezing in release that stole her breath. Shawn carried her through it, softening his touches gradually until she came back down to earth, but oh, she was far, far from done. Frankie reached for him in the shadows, her fingers landing on his belt, but an odd noise had them both freezing into place.

"Wait," he said, at the same time she realized it was his burner cell. Fumbling for his back pocket, Shawn tugged the phone free, his brow creasing in instant worry at the backlit screen.

"What?" Frankie asked, righting her clothes in a few economical tugs.

She knew that look. It never brought anything good.

"It's a nine-one-one to call home," he said. Call home was the code the team had established to stop what you were doing, no matter what the hell it was, and call the precinct. Capelli had sworn they'd only issue it for dire emergencies.

For example, if someone were dead.

"Okay." Frankie nodded, steadying herself with a breath even though her pulse tapped hard at her throat. "Let's call home."

Shawn punched in a bunch of numbers, then gave a series of codes that connected him to dispatch. They didn't dare bring their personal cell phones on an undercover op, not even for something routine like their meet up with Alfie, so Shawn had to jump through about ten different safety hoops before he finally got someone on the line.

"It's me," Shawn said, scanning the street around them as he spoke. Great minds, because Frankie had already given the block a careful up-and-down while Shawn had been dialing. "No, we're good. Secure. Sitting outside Bang." He paused, and Frankie could barely make out the sandpaper tone and clipped cadence of Sinclair's voice on the other end. "Wait, what? That doesn't make any sense."

Confusion clouded his expression, his firm mouth pulling into a frown. "Okay. Yeah. I'm on my way there. Copy."

Patience was not one of Frankie's strong suits, and neither were social graces. "What's the matter? What's going on?"

"I, ah. I don't really know. Apparently, someone from Remington Memorial Hospital has been trying to replace me. They said it's urgent."

"Urgent enough to call the boss and have him pull you in," Frankie said, and yeah. Not good.

Shawn nodded. "All they would say is it's a personal matter and I have to get there as soon as possible."

"Okay." Frankie's hands wanted to shake, so she used them to reach for her seatbelt instead. "Then let's go."

"Frankie, I-"

"It's fine, Shawn. We can talk about it later. This is clearly more important." At his beat of silence, she quietly added, "Go. I'll call a ride service from Remington Mem, okay?"

"Okay," he said, but as he started the truck and put it in gear, Frankie couldn't help but think something terrible was waiting for them at the hospital.