Shock widened her eyes. Her gaze darted from me to Hank, who stared at me, mouth hung open.

I shrugged. “What?”

“You’re ITF?” She wasn’t looking at me, but Hank.

“Way to go, Madigan,” he grumbled before turning to her and admitting to the truth of my words.

“You can thank me later,” I quipped under my breath, stepping closer to the counter. “Zara, we need your help. Specifically, we need to know if any new drug has passed through here, who brought it, and from where. We also have to get into Veritas.”

Her perfect skin turned a shade paler. “I’d lose my job if I let anyone into Veritas.”

“You’ll probably lose it if you don’t cooperate, we’re forced to close this place down, and your boss loses thousands in revenue.”

Hank scrubbed his hands down his face. “No one will know you let us in. We’ll keep it confidential. Lie if we have to.” He bumped me. “Right, Charlie?”

“Absolutely.”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment and then stood suddenly. With a grim set to her jaw, she flipped her long hair behind squared shoulders and turned off the computer monitor. “I never liked Veritas anyway. Follow me.”

The statuesque siren was only a few inches shy of six feet, way taller than I would’ve guessed. That annoyed me. Then I became annoyed at my annoyance. Why did I care how tall she was, or that she had the backside of a warrior goddess, or that her hair was gorgeous? I bet she ironed it. I bet it wasn’t naturally that glossy and straight.

I shook away the mental pettiness and tried to focus on the job at hand. Zara had nothing to do with me or the investigation. So far she seemed cooperative and smart. Not a bad choice in mates. Jealousy was something I rarely experienced and it wasn’t something I intended to feel for Hank’s future romance.

Zara led us to the rear of The Bath House and then up a flight of winding stairs hidden by vines and palms. The air became wetter and thicker as we ascended, making the scent of greenery stronger and my bare feet stick to the hardwood stairs with each step. The palms rustled and wings flapped as the birds sought heavier cover as we approached the landing.

Once there, Zara entered a key code to open a dark wooden door. I knew the minute the air hissed out that trouble had finally found us.

“To get out you hit the same code. One. Five. Seven. Seven.”

I nodded my thanks while recording the code into memory, then made nice and stepped into the dimly lit hallway, allowing them a moment alone.

Immediately, I was hit with the shock of air-conditioned air. Goose bumps sprouted on my bare arms and thighs. Wishing Hank would hurry, I rubbed the bumps and scanned the hall. Dark hardwood floors. Nice Oriental runner. Wrought iron sconces, which provided light on both sides of the hallway.

More than anything I wished I had my firearms. We trained twice a week in hand-to-hand combat to condition our physical strength, learn new moves, and constantly remind ourselves that sometimes we’d have to rely on brute force, but God I felt vulnerable without them.

This was just nosing around, though. It wasn’t like we were there to arrest anyone.

After a brief conversation, Hank joined me, letting the door close quietly behind us. The hair on the back of my neck stood as we progressed in barefoot silence down the elegant hallway, passing an antique gilded mirror hung over a hall table, oil paintings of fowl and hunting dogs, and tall Asian vases. The feeling of premonition was so great in me that I had to force myself to walk forward. My vision wavered a few times, making me blink hard and shake the cobwebs away.

“Zara said the club is not in session tonight,” Hank told me in a low voice. “Most members only come on meeting nights.”

“Most. Means we need to stay alert. Play innocent if anyone finds us. Say we found the staircase and were just pressing numbers and the door opened.” The strength in my legs continued to weaken. A small tremble began in my hands. I shook them, annoyed by the sudden onslaught.

“Sounds good to me. What’s wrong with your hand?”

“Nothing.” I opened and closed my fists. “Just pins and needles.” I was so cold.

We inched down the hallway, checking each door. The rooms held leather couches and chairs. A cigar room. Billiards. A small bath. A few bedrooms. Finally, we heard voices coming from one of the rooms at the end of the hall.

I lifted my hand to stop Hank, tiptoed to the door, and then pressed my ear to the cold, smooth wood. My legs were so weak now, I had to kneel down. Hank didn’t listen. I felt his presence above me and looked up to see him lean over me and put his ear on the door. I gave him a sharp look, but he wasn’t paying attention. If I turned my head, my nose would be inches from his crotch.

I jabbed him in the thigh, and he glanced down at me with an irritated expression. Move over, I mouthed, jerking my thumb to the left. His eyes lit with laughter as he realized my position—on my knees in front of his sarong-encased manhood. I wasn’t laughing. He mouthed back, Sorry.

Voices came from beyond the door.

“It’s all over the news.”

“Why contain it? I say we use it to our advantage. It’s perfect timing.”

“It could backfire, make us look like opportunists.”

Three voices. One vaguely familiar. I closed my eyes, thinking it would somehow allow me to hear better, but all I saw were flashes of my dream. Those terrible images. I gasped and lost my balance, catching myself with both hands on the soft carpet.

“What? What it is?” Hank whispered.

“Nothing.” I shook it off, reaching for my weapon. It wasn’t there. Shit. “We need to get into that room.”

“We don’t have backup. Or weapons.”

I pushed to my feet and stepped back, biting my lip. We could break the door down, but that would tip off whoever was inside that we were the law. We could wait for them to come out, but that could take hours and there might be another exit from the room.

I turned to Hank. “Put your arms around me.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Our plan. We embrace, fall into the door. It bursts open. We get a good look at them and then act like we were just looking for a place to …”

“Get it on.” His face split into a blinding, deep-dimpled grin. “I like the way you think, Madigan.”

“Focus, Hank.”

We backed away from the door. All business, I wrapped my arms lightly around him, hesitant to touch his smooth, bare skin. My hands settled against his warm back, and I tried not to dwell on the hard muscle under my palms. Hank took my cue, but in his usual all-consuming way. He enveloped me, holding me tightly, one big hand between my shoulder blades and the other splayed way too low on my back. He really didn’t need to press so hard or make sure my hips were that snug against him. I had a feeling if I looked up, it’d be to see him grinning like a damn fool and enjoying this immensely. And the last thing I wanted was to make eye contact lest he see how truly uncomfortable this position had become.

I tried to ignore the scent of his skin mixed with faint traces of the herby stuff that perfumed the baths. And just for a moment, the urge was there to snuggle into him and enjoy the protection and the instant warmth that vanquished the cold.

“Let my shoulder hit the door,” he said, practically lifting me off my feet. “Ready?”

Tensing, I nodded without looking at him.

We rushed the door, twisting before impact so that his shoulder hit the wood, and rammed the door hard enough to fly through.

The breath whooshed out of me as my back connected with hardwood floor and Hank landed on my stomach and chest. So much for chivalry. I’d taken the brunt of the fall, cushioning his landing. He lay sprawled halfway on top of me, our legs intertwined and my gown riding high on my hips. His body shook, and I realized he was laughing, his face buried in my hair and against my neck. I wasn’t sure if it was for real or for the benefit of the room’s occupants.