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Casey squealed and squirmed around like a high school cheerleader sidelined for the homecoming game. “I love this place.” She placed a hand on Levi’s leg, sending a stream of heat straight to his crotch. “You have to make this work, Stark, no matter the cost.”

A definite glee lit in their host’s eyes.

“Let’s just see what we can do.” He patted the hand that continued to linger on his leg. She did a little more of that giddy couch dancing. He’d never wanted to be leather more than he did right now.

“First, Jazz,” Levi said as he reclined into the soft, thick sofa, “when can I meet her?”

Jazz blanked his face as he considered the question. Now he intended to play hard to get, it seemed. “She rarely takes meetings with strangers, Mr. Stark. I hope you’re not offended.”

“Understandable.” Levi stood and thrust out his hand. “I appreciate your time. Mine, unfortunately, is limited. I’ll be in the city for two more days.”

One, two, three pulses of shell-shocked silence elapsed with nobody moving. Casey looked crestfallen but said nothing. The Jazz character had frozen like an ice sculpture at a celebrity wedding. As if desperation had abruptly cracked the ice, his face reflected the turnaround.

“Tonight.” Jazz was on his feet in a flash. “Perhaps I can arrange a meeting after tonight’s performance. I’m sure Alayna would be disappointed in me if I snubbed a man such as yourself on her behalf.”

Levi let him sweat for a few seconds more. “Very well. You may give the details to my assistant.”

He walked away.

Levi had his doubts about this guy. Either way, whether a peon with delusions of grandeur or the close associate he claimed, Levi figured the guy would go to any measures to make tonight happen. Everybody wanted to be a star.

Levi hadn’t realized until he reached the bar that his heart was pounding.

This could actually work, putting this mission back on track in spite of his incompetence up to this point.

He ordered a beer and exhaled a ton of tension. Whatever else she did, he had to hand it to Casey. She’d conjured up a break. That was more than he had done. A whole lot more.

The bartender left a bottle of the house favorite and moved on. Levi drank, allowing the cool effervescent brew to slide down his throat, quenching his thirst for hydration but doing nothing for the other hunger that raged through him. He settled the half-empty bottle on the counter and released another of those big breaths. He had lost all shred of perspective. Nearly two years of experience and training had gone down the drain.

Casey appeared next to him. He saw her reflection in the mirror behind the rows of liquor bottles first. Or maybe he saw the red dress first. It was still calling to him. Making him sweat.

Her arms went around his neck and she popped up high enough to lay a big kiss on his jaw. “You did it!”

Was she kidding? She’d found the guy. She’d set up the meeting and guided the conversation. Levi had put in an appearance that may or may not have been convincing.

Scooting up onto the bar stool next to him, she waved at the waiter. “Tequila,
por favor.
” She flashed the frenzied man one of those killer smiles and he instantly became her slave, ignoring the others pressed against the bar.

“Stark, why are you drinking beer?” Casey demanded, incensed. “We’re in Mexico. You have to drink tequila. It’s the law.”

She snapped her fingers and added another shot of tequila to her order even as the barkeep approached with the first shot in hand. Unbelievable. Casey thanked the man, passed one shot to Levi, then lifted her glass. “To a successful partnership.”

To say he was out of his mind would have been the understatement of the millennium. This moment, right now, proved it. “Success.” He raised the glass and downed the shot. The smooth, crisp fire warmed a path all the way to his belly. He seemed to recall watching this same scene play out between her and Fernandez back in Pozos.

Levi really was screwed here.

Casey huddled in close to him. “So, we have a meet with Alayna at one. Get this.” She lifted her face to his and whispered in his ear. “We’re having dinner in the restaurant next door.”

Anticipation erased all the other frustrations of the past twenty-four hours, instantly sharpening his senses and kicking aside his misery. “The restaurant is open at that hour?”

Casey shook her head, excitement igniting fireworks in her blue eyes. “They stay open for her when she decides to entertain special guests after the show.”

Reality intruded a fraction. “This Jazz guy took the bait that easily?”

“Finish your beer.” She slid off the stool. “We have some time to kill.”

That sounded like trouble. Not to mention she had evaded his question. Levi left cash on the bar for their drinks and turned to his partner. “How do you plan to kill this time we have?” He’d already decided not to call Victoria till tomorrow. He’d have more information then, assuming this meet went down. “You’ll see.”

Once again Casey caught him by the hand and started through the crowd. He stalled. When she turned back to him, he shook his head then leaned close so she could hear over the music. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Trust me.” She moistened those amazing lips. “You’ll love this one.”

That was exactly why he should say no.

But he didn’t.

Casey needed Stark to go with her on this. If he balked… She’d just have to tackle that obstacle when the time came.

He wasn’t going to like it. Didn’t matter that she had only met him about twenty-four hours ago, she had his number and it was ten. Don’t dive into anything without at least ten seconds’ notice and/or ten logical reasons to make the jump.

She, on the other hand, was a one. Give her a second, or less, and/or one good reason and she was good to go.

The memory of that kiss back at the convenience store attempted to invade her senses again. She cut it off, bullied it back. A consequence of her handling methods. Nothing else. She had pushed his buttons until he’d reacted the way she wanted. As admittedly enjoyable as the kiss had been, it didn’t count. None of this was real. It was the game and winning was all that mattered.

Casey intended to win. Losing—the equivalent of failure—was not acceptable.

Stark dragged her back to him a second time. “Where are we going?”

Time to turn up the persuasion in order to turn down his reservation. She specialized in persuasion. He was not immune. That part had already been substantiated. Immunity required immense self-discipline in the area of emotional engagement.

A slow turn put her face-to-face with her reluctant partner. She stretched up onto her toes, placed her hands on his broad shoulders, and leaned close and whispered in his ear, “Trust me, Stark. I haven’t let you down so far.” She allowed her lips to graze that erogenous zone.

This time when she tugged on his hand, he didn’t resist. She continued slicing a path through the crowd. He followed. That was the thing about guys like Stark; about most good and decent people, for that matter. They wanted to believe. Wanted to trust in others. Particularly if they had no logical reason to distrust or disbelieve. Basic human nature.

Casey didn’t trust until it was earned and maybe not even then. She definitely didn’t believe anything she heard and little of what she saw. She’d learned that the hard way in this business. She’d learned a lot of things. Like the fact that people acted and spoke the way they wanted to be perceived, prompting the reaction they desired. She’d learned all that relationship stuff was merely superficial garbage.

That was exactly why she dated but didn’t do real relationships. Just ask her last boyfriend. He’d called her an ice princess. All work and no play. So what if she was? Did that make her selfish—something he’d also called her? Relationships were for the weak. Casey Manning was not weak.

The expansive clubroom gave way to the chic lobby from which a narrow corridor led to the dressing rooms of the performers and ultimately to a dead end, an employees’ entrance. Three other exits, two sides and one rear, provided emergency exit routes from the clubroom for patrons. The corridor was Casey’s destination. The only obstacle that stood in her way was a key card reader.

A grin spread across her face. Except she’d already taken care of that obstacle. She had the needed key card. Lifting it from one of Jazz’s groupies had been too easy. The star-struck fan would never miss it. At least not until the show was over. Judging by the number of cocktails the handsome young man had consumed he would likely believe he’d lost it.

Casey had under two hours.

Loads of time.

All she needed was a crowd to block the view of the door from the security camera that monitored the lobby. The building’s security appeared adequate to put off the amateurs, but not nearly adequate enough for a professional. Casey headed for the main entrance.

“I need air,” she called to Stark.

Outside, she selected a spot near the open doors and turned to her partner. She draped her arms around his neck and smiled widely for anyone watching.

His arms went around her as if the act were as natural as breathing. “Is this the surprise?” Laughter from one of the clutches of passersby on the street briefly drew his attention.

“This is step one.”

He searched her face, narrowed in on her gaze, looking for the deception he feared even as every part of him wanted to believe. Hard as she tried not to, she got lost for just a sec in those jewel-colored eyes of his. The man had some incredible eyes. Her emotions might be immune but she wasn’t blind.

“I see.” He gave a little nod and kept whatever other questions he had to himself. Her secrecy annoyed him. The need to play nice restrained anything more than a negligible outward display of that irritation.

A foreign sensation, doubt in her judgment, seeped deep in her chest. She ruthlessly staunched it. No one was that nice. So nice that she should feel remorse or guilt or whatever it was for keeping him in the dark. For all she knew, he could be plotting a strategy of his own.

Didn’t matter as long as the mission was accomplished.

A thick crowd of clubbers climbed the steps leading to the lobby. “That’s our cue.” Casey threaded into the mob. Stark did the same.

Inside the lobby, she clasped his hand and went for the door blocking her path to the dressing rooms. One eye on the crowd, she swiped the key card, got a green light and pushed inside.

Casey didn’t draw in a decent breath until the door was closed behind them. She scanned the corridor for cameras. None visible. It never ceased to amaze her that the general consensus regarding areas beyond a secure door was that they didn’t require cameras. A mere lock, however state-of-the-art, rarely kept trouble out and security in.

“Dressing rooms?” Stark asked, his voice low.

“Hers is the one in the middle.”

Casey sprinted that way. Stark trailed after her but didn’t hurry. She had breached the room and was assessing the layout before he strolled in. The room smelled like flowers. She could still hear the music from the club as it reached a crescendo. Apropos. She felt an upsurge in their investigation coming. Finally.

“Nice touch,” Stark remarked, “lifting that key card.”

“Yeah.”

The room had no windows and only one door. She opened the door and took a look into a massive closet filled with costumes. A quick inspection of the walls behind the hanging wardrobe left Casey frustrated. “It has to be here.”

Stark lounged in the open doorway. “I might be able to help if I had a clue what we were looking for. Photos? Papers?”

“Nothing like that.” Damn. There had to be an exit here somewhere. She shifted her attention to Stark. He was right. He could help. Getting accustomed to the idea of a partner, however temporary and superficial, required an additional mental step on her part.

“Did the owner of the key card give you a rundown on the floor plan, too?”

Now she was insulted. “Give me a little credit, Stark. When he discovers the key card is missing, I wouldn’t want him connecting the timing of the disappearance with a floor plan discussion with me. One of the waitresses told me about the dressing rooms. She brings drinks to the dressing rooms sometimes.”

“So what’re we looking for? Something in particular you’re expecting to find?”

Still suspicious, was he? As for expectations, she couldn’t say specifically. She was good but she wasn’t that good. She didn’t see through walls or leap tall buildings, though she had been known to leap off them when the need arose. At the moment, she had a hunch. “No one on the street we interviewed had any idea where she lives. They rarely see her outside the club. That means just one thing to me—”

“She either lives in the club or she has a route in and out that no one knows about.” Understanding lit in his remarkable eyes. “Very good, Casey.”

Stark had a point about the photos and papers though. She added those to her search as well, though she doubted the woman was that careless. Cautiously placing each item back exactly as it had been, the two of them explored the room thoroughly.

The room was full of costumes, makeup and hair products. Nothing else. Not even a stash of cookies or chips. Framed photos of Alayna with various visiting celebrities and newspaper and magazine clippings lined the wall. Casey studied the face of the woman who was reportedly the sister of Slade Keaton. Brown eyes went along with the blond hair. High, prominent cheekbones. Sculpted lips. She was beautiful. She had little in common as far as appearance went with her supposed brother.

Stark stood in front of the enormous floor-to-ceiling mirror studying his reflection. Casey moved in beside him. “The suit looks good on you.” The statement was a calculated maneuver, yet it was the truth. Appreciating his physical assets made her more human than she cared to feel, but it didn’t make her susceptible to his charm. A very important distinction.

A frown scrawled across his handsome face as he leaned a little nearer the mirror. “This is it.”

She’d checked out the mirror already. It had no hinges, no levers. “You think?” Had she missed something? Doubtful but possible.

As if he’d read her mind, they both started to run their fingers over the edges of the ornate frame. Stark tugged. It didn’t budge.

But… “Do that again.” When he gave her a questioning look, she said, “Try to move it again.”

He curled his fingers around the frame and tugged. In the mirror their images shimmered the tiniest bit, then stilled.

Casey reached out and touched the reflective glass. It didn’t move. She pressed a little harder…and it moved. Oh yeah. Adrenaline wired her senses. This was it.

As the glass swung inward, she stepped over the frame onto a rock floor. A similar rock wall faced her. She reached out and touched it. Solid. Cold. She moved closer and discovered that it wasn’t just a hiding place or dead end. Anticipation screamed through her veins. This had to be how Alayna moved to and from the club. A narrow opening to the left led into a passageway. It was dark as pitch and tight, if the opening was any indication. “There’s a passageway here. I can’t see where it goes. Too dark.”

Stark joined her in the cramped space. He reached beneath his jacket and withdrew his weapon. “I’ll go first this time. I’ll check it out and see if I can find a light before we stumble into trouble.”

Fine by Casey. “Too bad neither of us smokes.” They needed a light.

The passageway was black. Like the hole they’d fallen into last night. The light from the dressing room valiantly attempted to turn the corner into the passageway but fell short.

“Let’s have a look.” Stark moved past her and through the narrow opening. Over his shoulder he said, “Wait until I assess the lighting situation before following me.” There was a brief hesitation and then, “Check the mirror for smudges where we opened it. Make sure it’s closed.”

She didn’t bother letting him know that she’d already planned to do that. In case he’d forgotten, she had twice as much experience at this as he did. Grabbing a tissue from the dressing table, she cleaned the smudge from her fingertips off the glass. Once she’d closed it, leaving her in absolute darkness, she waited, the seconds ticking off like bombs in her head while Stark traced the rock wall with his fingers as if it were Braille.

A faint glow peeked around the corner.

Instinctively, she leaned toward it.

“And there we go,” Stark announced.

More of that anticipation ignited inside her as she joined Stark around that corner.

The passage was narrow and only extended a few feet before spiraling downward in an even narrower staircase. “If this is how she moves back and forth from her home, it gives new meaning to the term harrowing work commute.”

Stark smiled and she had difficulty dragging in the next breath. He had a powerful smile and really nice teeth, too. The guy could do toothpaste commercials and sell lots of the product.

“Stay close,” he suggested, taking the first step down. “There’s no light switch. The lights are apparently motion sensitive. But if it goes black again, better to be close.”

She followed close for fourteen steps. Then they hit another long, narrow corridor. She couldn’t hear the music anymore. Instead she detected more of a roar befitting the cavelike, musty-smelling setting. The occasional small dome-style light kept the darkness chased away enough to watch one’s step.

Two more minutes of moving forward and nothing changed. It would be really nice if she could get her bearings. Were they moving east? West? Casey couldn’t say.

Something solid stopped her. Stark. Before she could complain she got distracted by him trailing his fingertips over the rock wall. “What’re you doing?”

“It’s wet here. Really wet.”

She peered at the wall, stepped close enough to touch it. He was right. Dripping wet almost.

“The water.” His gaze settled on hers. “This is taking us to the beach.”

That was it. “The hotel.”

Stark nodded. “Maybe so.”

They moved faster, an unspoken but mutual sense of urgency propelling them both. Any details they could discover might be useful. Keaton hadn’t remained anonymous without the aid of those who knew and cared about him.

The sound of crashing waves and the smell of salty air greeted them as they reached the end of the narrow passage. But the exit wasn’t straightforward by any means. A mini maze of twists and turns, each more narrow than the last, provided escape to the silky white sand.

Moving prudently just in case there was a security patrol in the vicinity of the secret passage, they headed for the stretch of beach directly behind the hotel.

“Wait.” Casey stopped and removed her shoes. Stilettos and sand didn’t mix. When she straightened Stark was staring at her the same way he had when she’d first dressed for the evening. “You really like the dress, huh?” She smirked, couldn’t help herself.

“I’m reasonably certain all who’ve seen you tonight have liked that dress.”

“In that case,” she said as she plodded toward the hotel, “I chose wisely.”

“You’re thinking that perhaps Alayna is a permanent resident of the hotel.”

Apparently he’d moved on from the subject of her dress in a hurry. “Perhaps,” she replied. It seemed a reasonable deduction. “Could just be a private access to the beach.” Who wouldn’t enjoy a private path to a scene so tranquil? The sea air smelled salty and sweet at the same time, but it was cold just now. She shivered. Something else that reminded her of home. The warm days and cool nights, the contrasting aromas of nature’s most powerful resource and man’s irreverent ambition to pillage. Another little quake trembled through her. She missed home sometimes. A visit would be in order soon.