“Perfect.”

“Andre is going to be angry when I don’t give him the thumb drive.”

“We’re aware of that, but it can’t be helped.  For reasons unknown, we haven’t gotten the clearance to use it, so we’re going to use what we have, the device for Bushnik.”  Maddox looked over at her, his eyes serious.  “If you feel that you are in any peril at all, Miss Fuentes, remove yourself from the situation or signal me and I’ll remove you.”

“My name is Isadora.”

“Isadora, promise me you won’t try to be the hero.”

“If I leave, then we all lose.”

“We’ll find another way.”

“Now you sound like Flynn.”  Just saying his name made her tear up. For the hundredth time today, her heart broke when she thought of what could have been.  The two of them together would have been epic.

“He’s a smart guy.  If he hadn’t been sitting on your place the other night, I guarantee you, we would not be having this or any other conversation right now.”

Shivering, realizing once again how close she had come to dying, Izzy rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “I’m forever in his debt.”

Maddox nodded as they exited the bridge.

“How long have you known Flynn?” Izzy couldn’t help asking.  Despite everything that had transpired, she wanted to know more about him.

“A few years.”

“Is he always so… distant?”

Maddox glanced over at her.  “He’s pretty intense.  Damn good at what he does, though.”

“He is that,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Not that it’s any of my business, and feel free to tell me to butt out, but are you two involved?”

“No.” She sighed wistfully. “Apparently neither one of us are much when it comes to committing.”

“Most feds aren’t.  The single ones anyway.  They never know when they’re getting reassigned.  It’s easier to go when you don’t have someone to leave behind.”

Izzy nodded. If only it were so simple.  All he would have to do was ask her to go with him. Stanford Law School didn’t hold the allure it once had. She could go to school anywhere.   None of that mattered, though, because she didn’t matter enough to Flynn.

“I guess,” she said as they turned down O’Farrell.

“I’m going to let you off here so that we aren’t seen together.  I’ll park and watch you go in, then head in myself.”

Izzy thanked him, slid out of the car with her bag in hand, and walked the block to the club.  It opened at six, but usually didn’t start to fill up until ten or later.  She was due to hit the floor at nine.  She had exactly one hour to get her Wild Style on.

Andre’s barrel chest greeted her when she walked into her small dressing room.

“Give me video,” he demanded, holding out his huge hand palm up.

“I don’t have it, Andre.”

He backhanded her so hard her head snapped back, hitting the doorframe.

Shocked by his attack, Izzy cried out as pain radiated from where her skull had hit the doorframe to her mouth that had connected with his hand. Covering her face as the copper taste of her blood filled her mouth, she looked up at the furious giant. “Andre, what are you doing?” she sobbed.  He had never touched her or any of the other girls like this before.  Had he lost his mind?

“Give me video,” he said again. The tone of his voice held a hard menacing edge.  Fear seeped deep into her.  Her hand trembled as she touched her swelling bloody lip.

Moving back into the corner of the small room, bracing herself for another hit, she said, “Please, Andre, I told you, my phone was stolen.  It hasn’t turned up yet.”

He hit her again, this time making contact with her hands.  Pain shot through her fingers protecting her face to her arms, reverberating along her spine. When he raised his hand again to strike her, something inside of Izzy snapped.  She was done being pushed around. No more would she allow anyone, not even this giant of a man, to bully her or make her afraid.

Lowering her hands, she straightened.  His eyes widened as his fist tightened. “Touch me again, Andre, and you’ll never get the video!” she hissed.

His eyes narrowed.  But he didn’t strike her.

“Do you know what’s on that video?” she asked, her accusatory tone implying he was a moron.

His lip curled as he mentally considered the possibilities.

When he didn’t answer, she told him. “That fed snorting coke off my tits.  Him talking about how it was primo shit and there was lots more where it came from.”  She moved into his personal space.  “How do you think Boris is going to like you beating me up and making it so that I don’t want to come back to work?  If he knew what was on that video and that you fucked it up for him, he might fuck you up a little!”

She’d never been so nervous yet so confident in her life. The tables had completely turned. Shoving past him, Izzy sat down at her dressing table.  “Now get me some ice so I don’t have to walk around with a fat lip all night.”

When he stalked out of the stuffy room, Izzy let out a long sigh of relief.  Her hand shook when she touched her bloody lip again. Hurt like hell. She was cut, and it was swelling.  Great, her tips were going to be crappy tonight.

Crystal brought her an ice pack a few minutes later.  Avoiding eye contact and wordless, she handed Izzy the ice, then hurried from the room.

Placing the pack to her lips, she hissed. It stung.  After ten minutes her lip was numb, still swollen, but not bleeding.  It would have to do.  Once she had morphed into Wild Style, Izzy stood and donned her uniform.  The pink string bikini.  Tonight when she put it on she did it slowly, not relishing anything about what she was going to walk into.  Her focus was unwavering but her willingness to submit to the pawing and pandering that went on out in the club had diminished.  She was over it. Not even for one hundred percent of her tips was she willing to continue donning the bikini.

With that clarity came a decision: The night she handed Boris the thumb drive would be her last night here.  It was time to step back and let Flynn, Maddox, and Justin do what they did best.  Catch the bad guys and find her sister.

Once Boris blackmailed Flynn, they would have the leverage to get the info on Alex.  Izzy believed that with all her heart. She was also afraid. Even knowing Maddox was out in the club keeping an eagle eye on her. She was in danger here and would be foolish to continue working the club after she handed over the thumb drive.  Because then there would be no more use for her.  It didn’t take a genius to know what the Russian mafia did with items that no longer served them.

Hopefully, tomorrow night would be the last night she had to don the pink bikini and blue wig. Taking a deep cleansing breath, Izzy dug into her bag and retrieved the little envelope that contained the metal listening device.  Opening it, she slid the tiny disc out onto her hand.  Maddox had told her it would be remotely activated at nine o’clock tonight.  The same time she stepped out onto the floor.  All she had to do was get close enough to the big ugly Russian named Bushnik to slip it in his pocket.

Peeling off the small piece of double-sided tape that was on the backside of the envelope, Izzy stuck the device on it, then pressed it on the inside of her bikini bottom. Smoothing it out she looked down.  Not even a hint of what was taped there.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she nodded at her image in the mirror. It was show time.  Throwing her shoulders back, Izzy strode confidently into the club.

Chapter Thirty-one

It was loud and crowded, unusual for a Thursday night. Immediately Izzy looked for Maddox and found him at the bar facing the dressing rooms.  He looked past her, giving no clue that they knew each other, and sipped his drink.

Her heart pounded in her chest, suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Sitting next to him was Flynn. He made no effort to conceal his identity or his displeasure that she was working.  When they made eye contact, she quickly looked away only to find Andre’s dark eyes on her.  He looked over to where Flynn sat, then back to her.  His eyes glittered.