Hidden Agenda. Maggie Price
me that young man complained about the content of the magazines.”
“Actually, he believed he’d struck gold, until his mother found them under his mattress. She confronted the kid and he ’fessed up to where he’d found the stuff. She called the mayor’s office, threatening fire and brimstone if the city allowed—and I quote—that ‘den of sin’ to continue operating. The mayor’s up for re-election and the woman promised to get her church’s congregation to campaign against him if he didn’t take action. The mayor called the chief and ordered him to do whatever it takes to shut down The Hideaway.”
“Do we have any idea what all is going on there?”
“Gambling, illegal liquor distribution, live sex acts.”
“Sounds like quite the party place.”
“An understatement. About the same time the irate woman called the mayor, one of my snitches gave me a tip about the activity going on there. I sent a report to Quintana.” Linc kept his expression neutral. He had no intention of telling his new partner about the covert role he’d played in engineering this assignment. He had finally caught the scent of his wife’s killer, and it led to The Hideaway. “When the order to shut down the bar came from the chief, Quintana assigned the case to me since I already knew about the place.”
“So, how do you have this operation set up?”
“Quintana and I agreed that if a couple of guys went in to scope out The Hideaway, they’d get viewed as either holdup men or cops. Either way, all criminal activity would stop while the unknowns were there. That happened, we’d have nothing to make arrests on.”
“And the mayor gets real unhappy.”
“Exactly. On the other hand, a man and woman go in and cozy up to each other, they’re viewed as married, or maybe just messing around. Takes the heat off.”
“Makes sense,” she said, looking back at the photos. “From the dress of people, I’d guess the place gets a mix of clientele. Some cowboy wannabes, construction worker types. Blue-collar guys. And pickup trucks are the vehicle of choice for the majority.”
“Right on all points.” Linc gestured toward the stack of criminal history sheets the Records Bureau had compiled from his list. “Over thirty percent of the people who own those pickups have felony convictions. A couple of robberies. Assaults. Burglaries. Indecent exposure. Like you said, a real mix.”
Carrie nodded. “So, the dress of the day for us is jeans and boots.”
Linc took in her stylish sea-foam-green sweater, the trendy gold chain looped at her neck, the matching earrings. If she even owned a pair of jeans, they probably had some designer logo stitched on the butt. “The right kind of jeans and boots, McCall. The basic rule of appearance in any undercover operation is look like what you’re supposed to be, not what some movie or TV show tells you undercover cops look like.”
Crossing her forearms on the table, she leaned in. “You tell me what you want me to be, Reilly. That’s what you’ll get.”
What he wanted her to be was gone. To take her hot, steamy scent and that husky, just-had-sex voice and get the hell away from him. He knew that wasn’t going to happen.
“You can’t walk in there looking like some fashion plate,” he said, aware that his voice had taken on an edge. “What you need to be specifically is something you and I have to talk about. Since we don’t know each other and have no idea of each other’s interests, the way for us to play this is as a couple who’s been out on a few dates. That way it’ll ring true if we know only surface details about each other. We’ll say we’re both new in town, met a few days ago in a checkout line at Wal-Mart.”
“Do we have jobs yet?”
“I don’t. When I was in college, I spent summers working as a roofer, so I know the lingo. My story is that I’m looking for a roofing job. It’s November, so those are scarce. No one’s going to question why I haven’t found work.”
“What about me?”
“What about you, McCall? Your family has cops out the wazoo.” Since that morning, he’d found out her grandfather and father were retired OCPD. She not only had two sisters on the force, but three brothers. It turned out that Linc had gone through recruit school with Bran McCall. “Do you have any job experience other than wearing a badge?”
“My mother owns a landscape nursery. Growing up, I worked there weekends and summers. I can talk plants, flowers and sod with an expert and not get tripped up.”
Linc gave her a thin smile. “That how you know about… What the hell is that stuff you told me to put in my coffee?”
“Stevia.” Shaking her hair back, she sent him a smug smile. “A perennial shrub of the aster family. Asteraceae, to be exact. It tastes sweet, but has no calories.”
“You’ll impress all the beer guzzlers at The Hideaway with that kind of information.”
She slid him a look from beneath her lashes. “I don’t expect my goal is to dazzle anyone with my mental capabilities.”
Not when she could walk into a room and have every man around instantly fantasizing about getting her underneath him.
“You’re right,” Linc conceded. “Still, knowing as much as you do about the nursery business is a good cover in case you run into some expert on petunias.”
“Do I have a job here?”
“Do most garden centers hire during this time of year?”
“No. They operate with a skeleton crew.”
“Then you haven’t snagged a job, either. That tightens our cover. We’re unemployed, but still have money to party every night. We drive nice cars, which we’ll borrow from the department’s asset forfeiture inventory. All that gives the impression we’re not above doing something against the law to get our funds. And to spend them on illegal activities.”
“Like maybe you paying to engage in a ‘live’ sex act with one of The Hideaway’s working girls?”
“Like that.” He leaned back in his chair. “This is another advantage to my going in with a female partner. I’ll sure as hell let any of the working girls proposition me. Name their price. That’ll get them busted during the raid. Since I’ve got you with me, I’ll decline all offers. Don’t want to mess up my deal with you by having a roll with some other woman.”
“Where have you been all my life, Reilly?” she asked dryly. “My heart’s all aflutter, knowing my boyfriend is so devoted.”
“Lover, McCall. I’m going in as your lover, and you mine. That means we do a lot of hand holding. Touching. Dancing. You think you can do a convincing acting job?”
“Like I told you, I’ll be exactly what you want me to be.” She pursed her glossed lips. “Our deep commitment to each other clearly means I have to turn down any men who come on to me.”
“That’s the idea.” Testing her, Linc leaned in. “With your looks, you’ll get offers that involve a hell of a lot more than a lip-lock session in the back seat of a patrol car.”
Irritation flicked in her eyes. “No lip-lock session took place. That rookie’s idiot wife got jealous and couldn’t handle him riding with a female partner. It’s my bad luck she took her fictional story to the chief. Who then gave my lieutenant orders to separate me from the idiot’s husband. The next day, I was transferred out.”
That McCall didn’t hesitate to defend herself pleased Linc. In undercover work, an easygoing personality that was sometimes punctuated by a strong showing of a refusal to let oneself get run over could be very effective.
“Let’s get back to that flood of offers you’ll receive,” he began. “When a guy comes on to you, lays a hand on you, tell him I’ve got a hair-trigger temper. Make sure he knows if anybody touches my