“Sorry. I missed that.”

“I said crew members don’t officially work in the club, but you could be called on to serve drinks or help behind the bar if we’re short-staffed. Everyone’s expected to do their part. Is that okay with you?”

I could tell by Bianca’s tone-friendly but firm-that this wasn’t open to negotiation.

“Can’t say I’ve ever waited tables, but there’s a first time for everything.”

“Good. Rodriguez is our tech guy and he’ll set you up with an untraceable cell phone. You’re expected to carry it at all times. If Guy wants you here, he wants you here now, whether it’s 2 a.m. or lunchtime.”

“Got it.”

“You’re expected to check in every day at five. He might not have anything for you, but he wants to see every face. So if you meet some hot Miami millionaire who asks you to join him for a three-day yacht trip to the Bahamas, the answer is no. Don’t even ask Guy. It’ll just piss him off.”

“Got it.”

“Speaking of hot millionaires, you’ll be expected to hang out at the club and make them feel welcome. And, no, that doesn’t include sleeping with them. Sometimes we pick a mark, ask you to get some information. Other times you’ll just be hanging out, dancing, having fun and convincing people that this club is the place to be.”

“Got it.”

She motioned me to a booth under an emergency light. “A few final things before we meet Guy, and these are the ones you really need to pay attention to, so let’s take a seat.”

She waved at the room. “You’re probably thinking that despite all these rules and responsibilities, this is a pretty sweet setup. But I’m warning you now, Faith, that if you’re into the club scene, this is like being in a candy store with no money. I said we don’t expect you to sleep with the patrons. Change that to ‘you aren’t allowed to.’ No sleeping with them, no dating them, no giving them your number. You’re limited to one drink a night, just so your breath will smell like booze. After that, you’ll still order drinks but you’ll be served soda and virgin cocktails. While you are here in the club, you’ll be the model patron. If Guy so much as catches you smoking in the bathroom, your ass is on the line. If you do drugs, stop now. I don’t just mean while you’re here either. Guy expects you to be ready to roll at any moment.”

“Harsh.” None of it mattered to me-I wasn’t about to get loaded and sleep with strangers-but I suspected Faith wouldn’t be as straitlaced.

“That’s the way Guy runs things. We have to stay under the radar. You can’t get cozy with the marks. You can’t get us investigated for breaking smoking bylaws. You can’t get wasted and blow a job. We run this place squeaky clean on the outside. It keeps people from looking too closely.” She smiled. “I tell Guy he should have been a drill sergeant, but the guy’s a goddamn genius at this. He’ll make you work your ass off, but if you stick it out, the rewards are pure honey.”

From the way Bianca’s eyes glittered every time she said Guy’s name, I could tell she was no impartial judge.

“So, are you ready to meet your new boss?”

Bianca knocked on an office door, waited, then opened it. Behind the desk sat a man about my age, with a close-cropped Vandyke and short braids. He was running figures through a calculator, and his eyes stayed fixed on the result as we walked in. His suit coat hung on the chair behind him, and his white shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal well-muscled dark forearms. Guy Benoit, the gang leader.

“Guy? This is Faith.”

“The Expisco?”

“Yup.”

He grunted something that could have been “good,” then jotted down a figure before looking up. A cold-eyed evaluation, but unlike Romeo’s, I couldn’t tell whether I’d passed or failed. A second grunt and he returned to his accounting. I glanced at Bianca. She’d made herself comfortable, draped in a chair, long legs crossed in front of her, blue eyes fixed on Guy.

“I presume Bianca told you the rules of conduct?” he said, fingers flying over the calculator.

“She did.”

“Thus ends your training, Faith. We expect our recruits to hit the ground running. Your crew mates will help, but don’t expect anyone to hold your hand. If you don’t work out, there are a dozen more to take your place.”

“Yes, sir.”

I added the “sir” instinctively, thinking even as the word left my mouth that he might take it as sarcasm. Had this been a job interview, I’d have been seriously considering how badly I wanted the position.

“I don’t need to tell you the importance of being a loyal crew member. I’m sure the recruiter explained what happens to those who betray us, either intentionally or through carelessness.”

“Yes.”

“Then we won’t need to discuss that ever again.” He lifted his gaze to mine for a split second before returning to his work. “This club has a line every night yet it barely breaks even. For us, it’s all about the marks. Miami is full of rich brats looking for a good time.”

From the twist he gave “rich brats,” I wondered whether the cover story Benicio gave me had been such a good idea.

“They have expensive tastes in everything, from women to booze to dope, and while that would be the easiest way to divest them of their trust funds, it’s a fool’s gambit. What we run here is a legitimate business, following every law right down to fire code regulations. There’s more than one way to fleece a mark. If a young woman overindulges and passes out on our premises, it’s our duty to see to her and make her comfortable. But we’ll unload her apartment while she recovers. From your dossier, I believe that’s the sort of thing you could help with.”

I nodded. “I dated a professional thief a couple of years ago. I used to go on jobs with him. Just for kicks.”

His lips tightened and I cursed under my breath. Benicio had screwed up. Or, at least, misjudged. Maybe most gangs were rebellious, undisciplined kids looking for easy money and a good time, but Guy took his job seriously, and expected his crew to do the same. A spoiled socialite looking for “kicks” wasn’t welcome.

I tried to make up for lost ground. “I know how to use picks, torque wrenches, snap guns and shims. With the right tools, I can do impressions, but I’m still learning that. I can use a Slim Jim and hotwire a car. I know the basics of safe drilling, but I’ve never opened one myself. I’ve disarmed simple security systems. What I’ve had the most practice at, though, is simple stealth skills-moving quietly, avoiding security cameras, foiling attack dogs, that sort of thing.”

A grudging nod.

A rap at the door. Again Guy didn’t answer, but the door opened after a few seconds. In walked a stocky young man, who looked no older than twenty.

“Rodriguez, this is Faith, the new recruit. She’ll need a phone and pager, but that’s not why I called you in. I want to talk about this next job.”

Bianca stood and waved me to follow her. She made it two steps, then Guy said, “Bee? I need you here.” He yelled something that sounded like “Jack,” and the guy who’d let me into the club appeared. “You and Sonny take Faith to dinner. Make her feel welcome. Think you can handle that?”

The young man grinned. “I believe I can manage.”

“Just don’t talk her ear off. I want you both back by nine. You’re on floor duty tonight. Oh, introductions. Faith, Jasper. Jasper, Faith.”

The young man shot Guy the finger. Guy only smiled and shooed us out.

“Jaz, please,” he said to me. “No one calls me Jasper. Not even my mother. The moment she recovered from her temporary insanity, it became Jaz on everything but official documents, and I plan to change those too, as soon as I can be bothered filling out the paperwork. Now to collect Sonny, wherever the hell he’s hiding-”