Wild Card Undercover

©2022 Kari Lemor.

Published by Scribd, Inc.

All Rights Reserved.

To my Mom, for allowing me to always steal her romances from her ‘done’ pile. And for my Dad, who always encouraged and believed in me. I hope you can look down now and see how much I accomplished. Because you had faith in me.

1

"D oes that man never have a day off?"

Margaret Kathleen O’Hara grumbled, grabbing her tote bag and sarong to move surreptitiously along the chairs by the pool. If the hotel manager saw her here again, she’d be toast. He’d more than toss her out. Threats to call the police had been thrown at her for months now. Although in her case, that might be a better deal.

With her eyes trained on his location and the Miami sun beating down on her exposed skin, Meg backed along the water’s edge, attempting to leave the area before he spotted her. She needed to shower the chlorine out of her tangled hair and change for work soon. He looked in her direction, and she rushed behind the closest object. It was six-foot-plus of blond-haired gorgeousness. The man’s eyes were glued to something on the upper deck. Her boss was sitting there with one of his expensive bimbos. Did Blondie like that type? Maybe he wouldn’t notice her little game of Hide and Seek.

She leaned around him, her gaze skimming a tattoo banded around his bicep. She ducked back when she saw the Pool Nazi was still present. Getting caught was not an option. She already owed more than she could ever repay.

Are you okay? Forest green eyes stared down at her, puzzled. Would he buy that she was simply looking for shade? He was big enough to provide it.

With strong hands, he reached for her shoulders, and Meg reflexively batted them away. She got enough of people groping her at work. Scorching curses froze before erupting from her mouth as the hotel manager moved, staring in their direction. Her mind kicked into overdrive, scrambling for a way to hide in plain sight.

Sorry, she squeaked. Grabbing the man’s head, she planted her mouth solidly on his. Short, thick strands of hair tickled her fingers. Firm lips yielded to the increased pressure of her mouth. Better make this look good.

An electric current skittered over her skin, causing her heart to race. Maybe too good? Slowly, he pulled her closer with his muscular arms. Her eyes flew open, and she broke the connection. His hair-covered chest was too close for comfort. And much too tempting. Distance. She needed distance.

Her eyes darted around, seeing no signs of the manager. A sigh escaped. Time to make her exit, as well.

Sorry, she mumbled again, looking up. Big mistake. The stranger’s curious eyes captivated her. They were soft and tender and filled with something she could…trust? If she still had any of that left in her. His hands were gentle as they held her. A tiny smile played about the full lips she’d brazenly kissed. She couldn’t believe she’d done it. Her mother would be appalled. But it had worked.

The chlorine scent from the pool faded into the background as sweat and suntan lotion wafted off the man’s damp skin. Her stomach did cartwheels followed by a few back flips. Dangerous.

Let me go, she hissed as reality returned. She gave a swift shove at his well-defined pectorals, rushing to get past, to escape from this distraction and the possibility of being caught. Her head whipped around at the sound of a splash and water droplets from behind. Gorgeous was just breaking the surface of the pool. Had she pushed him that hard?

Oops. No time for apologies. He looked like the forgiving type. She had to blow this joint before the Pool Nazi came back. Grabbing her fallen sarong, she ran across the deck to hustle inside the luxury hotel.

Damn.

The manager stood sentry near the front door. A crowd appeared at her back making that way impossible. The stairwell to the left would have to do. She’d go up a few floors, then down to the side entrance. She wrapped her sarong around her as she carried out her plan to avoid being seen…and caught.

Meg should stop coming here to use the pool: this proved it. Sneaking in was adding to her already hellish life, but swimming always helped work out the stress, and the pool here was more accessible than any other on the strip. Pretending she had money to stay in a place like this, rubbing elbows with all the beautiful people, yeah, that got her through, too. She’d learned the best times to come and not be seen. Well, for the most part. It was worth the risk to get away from her dump of a room and its enchanting neighborhood. She’d leave this all behind her soon. She kept telling herself that. Had to believe it for her own sanity.

Footsteps behind her pushed those thoughts away. Her bare feet padded silently along the lushly carpeted hallway. Heart racing, she ducked into the ice machine alcove, her sigh echoing in the silence. She glanced down. Her bag? She must have dropped it as she rushed off. How had she not realized? It couldn’t have been the threat of being arrested. Or the crooked smile of the handsome stranger she’d kissed. The one with the kind eyes and gentle hands. No, she couldn’t allow herself to be led astray by a pretty face. Not again.

She continued down the hall, her trip cut short when someone grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.

Christopher Martin Shaunessy broke the surface of the pool and shook the water from his hair, spluttering, What the hell…?

The thin, shapely brunette sprinted out of the pool area, and he narrowed his eyes at her strange game of Peek-a-Boo. She’d kissed him passionately one second, yelled at him the next, then shoved him in the pool. The kissing part he’d liked, but he usually preferred to take a woman out on a date, or at the very least know her name, before he kissed her. Although technically she had kissed him.

Her bag floated nearby as he sloshed through the water to get out. Picking it up, he let it drip on the way to his deck chair. He dried himself off with a fluffy hotel towel, then used it to prevent any more leakage from the bag. Which way had she gone? Her room key was most likely in her bag, so no need to hurry.

He glanced in the direction of Salazar Moreno, the reason he’d come to this hotel. It seemed Moreno had concluded his business. More reason to follow the brunette.

When he entered the lobby, she was disappearing into the stairwell. Javier, the day manager, followed, a frown on his face. What was his problem with the pretty lady? Had she pushed him in the pool, too?

The sound of the third-floor door opening above him echoed through the stairwell. Nice. His suite was on that floor. She’d be a sweet-looking distraction while he was here. Or would she? She’d almost made him forget his goal by the pool.

When shouts echoed down the hallway, he increased his pace. The little spitfire struggled against Javier’s tight grip as he growled at her.

That’s it, young lady. You’ve been warned before. The pool and other amenities of this hotel are only for paying guests. This time I’m calling the police. You’ll be charged with trespassing.

Long hair whipped around her head as she resisted. Let me go! Please. She yanked frantically, a look of panic on her face as the manager dragged her down the hall, away from Chris.

It wasn’t any of his business. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. If she was taken away, he might never find out why she kissed him. Plus, manhandling women was high on his list of things he hated. He’d been raised to always respect and assist a lady, had it drilled into him. He never could resist a damsel in distress—and right now, she looked quite distressed.

He picked up the pace, nearly reaching them as the woman gave one good yank, launching herself right into his path. He reached up to steady her shoulders.

There you are, sweetheart, he crooned, noting the desperation in her eyes. Did you forget your key again? You left your bag by the pool.

Javier’s protest died when he noticed who was holding her.

Oh, Mr. Martin, I didn’t know…uh, didn’t realize…This young lady… she’s uh…

Chris gently pulled her to his shoulder, smirking. Yes, she is feisty. Thanks for bringing her back to our room.

Of course, of course. The manager practically drooled, his face tight. He wouldn’t argue with a VIP customer, even if he didn’t buy their act. If there’s anything else I can do for you, let me know.

Sure thing. Chris guided the now grinning young lady the few steps to his door. She pulled back slightly, her eyes wide with apprehension. When she glanced back at the glaring manager, who hadn’t moved a foot, she threw him an innocent look, sighed, then went in with Chris. As soon as the door closed behind them, she hastened away.

Walking across the room, her eyes lit up. Yeah, this place rocked—no denying it. Top-dollar suite. Good thing he wasn’t paying for it, especially considering the amount of time he expected to stay here.

Nice. She stuck her head past the sliding door to the living room balcony. This must have cost a chunk of change.

When he stared at her, his expression must have given away his amusement as well as his confusion. She half rolled her eyes and said, By the way, thanks.

He gave a small shrug. You looked like a damsel in distress. Couldn’t resist.

Her eyes rose as her lip curled up on one side. I guess you’re wondering what that was all about, huh?

He nodded.

Well. She moved around the room, running her hand over the expensive furniture, checking things out, checking him out. I work around the corner, so sometimes I come by to use the pool. Unfortunately, management takes a dim view of freeloaders.

She passed through the kitchen area and opened the fridge, an expression of longing crossing her face. Reading the clock on the microwave, she whipped around to face him again. Crap, I didn’t realize it was this late. There’s no way I can get back, take a shower, and get to work on time. My boss is going to dock my pay for sure.

She picked up her drenched bag, peering inside. And I don’t even have anything to wear. I can hardly go prancing around the streets in just my bathing suit.

Chris didn’t mind women prancing in bathing suits, but now she was partially covered by some fabric thing. He recalled her suit was modest, boy-cut shorts and a tank-like top. Conservative compared to some of the skimpy stuff he’d seen since he’d been here. A little of the stretchy blue fabric covering her nice figure peeked out. Was she uncomfortable walking around with it on? He’d seen plenty of women in less material openly welcoming others to look. Was she like that? Judging from that kiss by the pool, she wasn’t shy.

Her lips turned down as she pulled a pair of flip flops out of her soggy bag and tossed them on the floor. Sliding her feet inside, she slung her bag on her shoulder, then walked toward the door. As she passed by the wall mirror, she caught sight of herself in it and stopped. She raised a hand to her unruly, sun-kissed locks and gave a cry of horror.

Oh, man, I’ll be lucky if I get paid at all tonight with the way I look. She turned to face him. He’d never complain about her appearance. She was hot. Should he tell her she looked fine? He was about to when she gave him a genuine smile. Thanks again. Sorry I bothered you.

Hey, he called out as she approached the door to the hall. Why don’t you take a shower here, or at least straighten up in the bathroom? It would give more credit to our story.

He wasn’t sure if he made the offer because she seemed lost or because there was something else, something about her that stirred his interest. He wanted to know more, and if she walked out now, he never would. Never could resist a puzzle.

He’s going to know anyway with what I’m wearing. She glanced down at the thin sarong draped diagonally across her torso.

Can you use that as a skirt? I can come up with something for a shirt. Why don’t you head into the bathroom, and I’ll see what I can find?

Her eyes were leery, so he added, "It’s the least I can do for a damsel. And you can lock yourself in."

She looked around the room, crossed to the door, and checked through the peephole, sighing. Was Javier still hanging around out in the hallway? Her gaze darted around, flashed to the clock again, then she sized him up quite thoroughly. He threw her one of his most charming smiles. She placed her hand on her throat and lowered her eyes.

My boss’ll kill me if I get there late, she mumbled. Pressing her lips together, she nodded. She grabbed a large brush from her bag and followed his finger pointing to the bathroom through the bedroom. Blushing, she dropped her sarong on the bed as she walked past. It’s still a little damp from being splashed by the pool.

She disappeared into the bathroom, the lock clicked, then the sound of water started. He dug through his drawers coming up with a faded, red t-shirt he knew was snug on him. It might be big for her slim figure, but it wasn’t something he had a deep attachment to.

He picked up the sarong and walked to the balcony to shake it out, hoping it would dry in the warm, Miami air. The crowded beach and the endless blue expanse of the Atlantic Ocean caught his attention. His time should be spent on the other balcony watching for Salazar Moreno.

Moreno was in charge of a lot in this city. High-priced prostitutes and drugs, even though he still gave the illusion of a successful businessman to the public eye. But new whispers suggested he was getting into guns, as well. Guns that had been used to kill cops and federal agents. Chris’s priority was to get close to Moreno, finagle his way into a business relationship, and get more information on the man. Many of Moreno’s business associates stayed at The Ocean Terrace Resort, so this is where Chris needed to be. It was also on the strip where the glitziest nightclubs and restaurants were. Word was Moreno had his finger in several of them. Clubbing and that crowd could be fun. Enjoy drinks, get his face seen and recognized, potentially find an in with Moreno.

Hearing the bathroom door open, he walked back into the bedroom, and the woman poked her head out, chewing on her bottom lip. She looked younger, all cleaned and scrubbed with her hair brushed and secured in a ponytail, but she was hardly a teenager.

Is that dry? she asked, pointing to the fabric in his hands.

Yeah, just needed a few minutes in the sun. Here’s a t-shirt for you. Hope that’s good enough.

Thank you.

Her small voice was surprising considering her brazen actions earlier with both him and the manager. Was she suspicious of him? Helping her was hardly a big deal. His army buddies loved to kid him about his hero complex. He’d admit he had a weakness for the underdog. Unfortunately, it sometimes got him in trouble. Would she be trouble?

I used one of the new hotel toothbrushes, she confessed. I hope you don’t mind. She reached for the two garments and moved back inside the bathroom door.

Whatever you need.

As the door shut, he grabbed a pair of khaki pants, boxer briefs, and a button-down shirt to slide into while she was busy. It didn’t take her long. She exited the bathroom, the skirt and knotted t-shirt looking like a regular outfit. Her golden-streaked, chestnut hair slid like silk down her back almost to her waist, even in its upswept position.

Thank you, again. She nodded shyly at him, moving to the door to leave. He quickly followed, stopping her, curious about her ping pong attitude; cheeky one minute, sweet the next.

Wait. If we’re living together, the least you can do is tell me your name, he teased.

She paused, appearing nervous. Did she have a reason to hide her name? Like he did.

Her answer took a moment. Kate. Kate Harrington.

He stuck out his hand, enclosing hers inside. Christopher Martin, he said, using his alias. You can call me Chris.

He opened the door, catching her surprised look as he followed her into the hallway. Thought I’d walk you to work. Make sure you don’t get into any more trouble.

She shook her head, and her mouth opened. He cut her off before the words could come. If we leave together, it’ll seem like we’re just going out for the night. The manager will buy it, and you can get a few more free days in the pool.

Okay. The word was slow and drawn out. She’d been happy to use him earlier for her own needs, but now she couldn’t wait to get rid of him. Really?

They took the elevator down, and as the doors opened, he slid his arm around her waist. She stiffened, her eyes shooting daggers at him.

Showtime, he whispered, and her body relaxed.

The manager, strolling through the expansive lobby, paused and stared as they walked by. They kept their heads together, as if they were only interested in each other. Once outside, Chris was reluctant to let go. Her soft body fit nicely next to his. It had been a while since he’d held something this sweet.

He still wasn’t sure if she was sweet. Her behavior in the past hour had been perplexing. Good judgment about people was one of his better qualities, and there was more to this one than the obvious. The scattering of freckles across her sunburned nose gave her an innocent look, but her flashing blue eyes contradicted that.

They walked a few blocks, then she stopped mid-stride. I work across the street. You don’t have to walk me any farther. This damsel is fine. Her sassy, confident tone returned. You have done your knightly duties. You’re absolved of all obligations.

Standing on her toes, she touched her lips to his cheek with another whispered, Thanks.

Her hips swayed as she walked away, not looking back. Where did she work? She headed into a club, and he smiled. Surf.

Surf was one of the high-end clubs Moreno used as a front. The place was a hot spot, and the crowds helped hide any shady activities that happened there. Supposedly, Moreno set up deals with businessmen for his top dollar escorts from this club. Was Kate one of them? She’d actually blushed at one point, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t. Her kiss had been more than nice, and she also had the innocent look Moreno was famous for providing. The idea made him queasy, though he wasn’t sure why.

Surf was high on his list to check out. It had a small room in the back for gambling, and there were rumors it was used by Moreno to set up deals. The fact his little damsel worked there moved it a bit higher.

He walked back to his hotel room to get ready for the night. The first thing he’d do is run her fingerprints. She’d touched enough items in the suite there’d be no problem finding some. His curiosity was piqued at the thought of seeing her again. She could come in handy if she had knowledge of Moreno’s dealings, but how loyal was she to him? Could he take a chance with this wild card? Using her could be dangerous to the task at hand. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

2

I f dough boy grabs my ass one more time, I swear I’ll dump his drink on him, Meg threatened, picking up her newest order from the tall, dark-skinned bartender, Dave Johnston.

Katie.

Meg stopped herself from cringing at the name she’d adopted since she’d been living here. It had been over a year and a half. She should be used to it by now. And she was, but she still hated the reminder of why she’d given a fake name in the first place.

Take a deep breath, honey, Dave continued, and smile like you mean it. You can’t afford to be pissing off customers. Dough boy lays down a load of cash in that back room. The boss wouldn’t appreciate you throwing a drink at him.

She inhaled deeply, then let it out slowly, glancing at the pale, rotund man who’d been trying to pinch her butt for the past two hours. Heck, the past year or more. The man was a pig in every sense of the word. Bile rose in her throat just thinking of doing to him what he’d hinted at all night, every night.

Shivers went through her remembering Mr. Moreno’s insinuations that she could pay off more of her tab by being really nice to his business associates. She was desperate to get out of this mess, but she wasn’t that desperate. Would she ever be? If she had nothing else, she had her pride.

Thanks, Dave. I can always count on you to bring me back to reality. My drink order? Maybe if I get dough boy soused enough, he’ll start pinching Mr. Moreno’s behind instead of mine. Let’s see how he likes it.

Dave filled her tray with glasses and bottles. Hopefully, you’ll get a big tip. He enjoys throwing money away.

She laughed. That’s why the boss likes him so much. He loses big time. But he’ll only give me a good tip if he can shove it in my top. I can’t guarantee I won’t hurl on him if he does.

Balancing the overloaded tray, she maneuvered her way through the crowded tables. No easy task in three-inch wedge-heeled sandals. Stupidest footwear ever for a waitress. Mr. Moreno said they accentuated a woman’s legs, bringing in more customers. Yeah, walking around half dressed didn’t hurt either. This nightclub was one of the hottest on the main drag, yet the waitresses looked like strippers. Could be why so many people came here.

With her working smile pasted on her face, she set the tray on the edge of the table. Your drinks, gentlemen.

Her biggest smile went to dough boy as she leaned over to place napkins in front of the customers. His eyes flew straight to her chest. She’d better get a damn good tip for this.

Put this on your tab, Mr. Barone?

"I want to put you on my tab, sweet cheeks," the man slurred, taking a last peek before she straightened up.

Sorry, I’m not on the menu tonight. She might crack a tooth with how hard she was gritting her teeth.

I’d make it worth your while. His eyebrows rose in his attempt at seduction. It looked like a facial tick.

Better save your money for the game later. You are planning on playing?

Of course, I am, darlin’, and I want you to serve my drinks. You’re my good luck charm.

Meg giggled, the silly one he liked, trying not to gag. The man didn’t have any good luck at all, whether she was there or not. If it got her off her feet for a while, she was more than happy to sit in the back room allowing the men to leer at her. It’s not like they wouldn’t do it in the front room, anyway.

She wrinkled her nose, grinning. Oh, Mr. Barone, you are too sweet.

Don’t forget your tip, darlin’. Barone leered, reaching out a pudgy hand to tuck a bill in her shirt. She leaned over waiting, then ripped the money from his hand before it met its mark. Another big smile before she sauntered away, making sure to swing her hips a bit more than usual. Like Dave said, she couldn’t afford to piss off the customers.

She glanced around the glitzy nightclub, lights flashing, music from the dance floor echoing in her head, people gyrating to the staccato rhythm. Her tables were set for now, but her feet already hurt. She didn’t dare tell her toes they still had six hours to go before she could begin the long walk to her dingy rented room.

Waves of despair swallowed her up like a drowning man, and moisture filled her eyes. She’d been here what seemed forever, yet leaving this life never got any closer. She closed her eyes and allowed her head to drop for a second.

Snap out of it! Standing here crying wasn’t going to get her anywhere. If she wanted good tips, she had to go and shake her groove thing for another few horny businessmen or vacation-goers.

Placing her tray on the bar, she grinned at Dave. I played nice and check this out. She held up the twenty-dollar bill Barone had tried to stuff down her shirt. The bartender gave her a thumbs-up, mixing a round of drinks for another waitress.

The door swung open, and Meg’s eyes were drawn to it. She hoped it wasn’t Mr. Moreno coming in early. He expected everyone to be here on time but often staggered in only after nine, once the crowd was hopping. Her heart raced as she caught sight of her rescuer from the