Threatened by underworld boss Michael Trotta, Alessandra Lamont is nearly blown to pieces in a mob hit. The last thing she wants is to out what's left of her life into the hands of the sexy, loose-cannon federal agent who seems to look right through her yet won't let her out of his sight.

Chapter One

            It was all Tuesday’s fault. Brendon Urie blamed everything on Tuesdays as a matter of principle, really. This was mostly because he couldn’t blame Mondays. Mondays were still a part of his weekend and Mondays had never done him wrong. Tuesdays, though, those were insidious. And bad things always happened on Tuesdays. Audrey showed up on Tuesday, and while technically it was more Audrey’s fault than Tuesday’s fault, Brendon blamed Tuesday first and Audrey . . . well, he blamed Audrey most.

            Audrey was a cocktail waitress at the lounge Brendon played and sang at. They had history. Mostly their history consisted of this on-and-off flirting thing that never went farther than a quick grope in the supply closet just down the Employees Only hall. At first Brendon had problems with the set up because he actually liked Audrey. He liked her piercings and her crazy-ass hair and her sense of humor. He had it bad. And then he got drunk with her after a shift and he actually fucked her and it was bad enough that he decided the on-and-off flirting wasn’t so terrible actually.

            The thing about Audrey was that she was one of those girls whose sole focus was on her art. Well, sort of on her art. Her art was mostly her body and her body was a nice enough selling point if you didn’t ask yourself where it had been. She didn’t have time for anyone else, she didn’t care much for anyone else, it was just who she was. Unfortunately, Brendon had fallen for her and even if he wasn’t still in love with her, he had that residual empathy that came along with formerly being in love with her along with a genuinely good friendship with her that basically made him putty in her hands.

            They both had Sundays and Mondays at the lounge off. Having the same weekend had been a plus when Brendon still wanted into her pants. Now it was more of a minus because she liked to disappear on her weekends and reappear late Monday night at Brendon’s apartment asking for a place to crash. It was a sad fact of life that Audrey Kitching was generally the reason Brendon’s Tuesdays got off to a bad start.

            On this particular Tuesday, Brendon had a cold. Nothing too serious, nothing that meant he had to call in sick, but it was annoying and he wasn’t really in the mood to deal with people. He definitely wasn’t in the mood to deal with a tweaking Audrey, who turned up around noon.

            “Brendon,” she said when he opened the door. “Brendon, Brendon, I need your help.”

            He rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand and frowned. “With what?”

            She glanced wildly over her shoulder and then leaned forward. “I can’t tell you out here, can you let me in?”

            Brendon didn’t want to let her in but he couldn’t really turn her away. She was still wearing the clothes she’d been in when her shift had ended on Saturday and her hair, normally brightly colored, was looking dull and ratty. She’d have to shower before her shift and Brendon would have to stay with her until she worked whatever was in her system out. If she was actually even tweaking. Sometimes Audrey just acted like this because she could.

            “You’re place isn’t tapped, is it? Are you being followed?”

            She was walking from room to room of his small apartment, looking at the walls and behind the few picture frames he had hung up to cover particularly nasty bits of plaster. She picked up his phone and listened intently for a moment before placing it back in its cradle and turning around in an aimless circle.

            “What?” Brendon asked, feeling slower on the uptake than normal. “Audrey, seriously, what the fuck?”

            She walked over to him and grasped his shoulders in her tiny hands. “I have a mission for you, Brendon Urie, should you choose to accept it.”

            “What are you on?”

            She frowned and tossed her head, dirty hair settling over her shoulders. “Nothing, Brendon, I promise. I just . . . I’ve been up for, like, thirty-six straight hours, okay? I was with a friend and we got into some deep shit and we need someone’s help. You’ll help me, won’t you?”

            Audrey looked up at him, lips pouted slightly and the look was ridiculous with that septum ring in the way but her eyes were wide and most of her make up was gone; what was left was nothing but a dark smudge beneath her eyes. She looked young and pretty and needy and Brendon sighed and sneezed.

            “Shit,” he said. “Okay, what kind of help do you need?”

_._

            They went to work at the usual time, Brendon sucking down Menthol cough drops like it was his fucking job and Audrey glancing at her cellphone every five minutes.

            “You said you weren’t going to get a call until later,” he said.

            “I know,” she told him, straightening her uniform and patting down her hair. “I just . . . I’m a little nervous.”

            Brendon could understand. If he hadn’t tossed back a cupful of cough medicine after Audrey had uttered the words ‘diamonds’ and ‘stolen’ and ‘smuggling’, he would have been nervous too. As it was, he was just feeling mildly put out and wishing he could have called in sick. She hovered at his shoulder near the piano, a tray resting on her cocked hip. He closed one eye and squinted up at her. She stared down at him from her kohl-lined eyes and then smiled and kissed him swiftly on the forehead.

            “You’re a saint, Brendon Urie,” she said. “I love you.”

            He flushed slightly and nudged her with his shoulder. “Whatever, just let me play my music and go flirt with some high rollers.”

            Her grin grew an edge and she sauntered off, targeting a pair of old men at a corner table. Brendon eyed her for a moment before shaking his head and placing his fingers gingerly over the ivory keys of the piano. He inhaled, closed his eyes, and played the first thing that came to mind. A smoky piece well-suited to dark lounges and late nights on The Strip.

            Vegas Flowers was something of an institution. Not necessarily the kind that you saw on tv and in movies; Vegas Flowers had always catered to a more alternative crowd than the usual, dime-a-dozen bars and clubs that peppered The Strip. Owned by the Flowers family for God only knew how many years, it was clean, it was hospitable and it was a discreet place to duck into after a long day of gambling and an even longer night of fucking. It was also a discreet place to get a night started and there were plenty of couples and threesomes and moresomes that had their humble beginnings in one of the booths, the would-be participants stumbling out two hours and an endless rotation of shot glasses later.

            Brendon couldn’t remember how he’d found his way to Vegas Flowers. It wasn’t the kind of life he’d envisioned for himself growing up, that was for damn fucking sure. But he’d needed to get away from his family and fourteen hours after graduating, he’d left the suburbs of Vegas for the city life. He was damn lucky to have been found by Brandon, that was one thing Brendon did know. He was pretty sure if he hadn’t landed this gig as a piano player, he’d probably have ended up on dark corners hoping his ample hips would do him well enough to earn a living.

            Possibly there would have been crack involved.

            As it was, Brendon lived in an okay apartment and his job payed well and Brandon was a good boss. Pretentious, maybe, but a good guy at heart and he loved his business and he took care of the co-workers he was fond of. Comparatively speaking, Brendon had a good life. He just wasn’t sure if it was one he wanted to make into a forever sort of thing, that was all.

            He plucked the last tinkering notes of the melody from the keys and the smattering of applause from the crowd barely registered to him before he was playing something else. The night drifted on, dragging on the heels of playful pieces and more melancholy pieces, and it had to be almost two in the morning when Audrey wandered over again.

            “Here you go, baby,” she said, handing him a glass of water with a lemon wedged on the rim. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

            Brendon frowned and looked up. Sure enough, at a table nearby he saw a rakish man staring at him with a wide smile and a leer. His name was Pete and he was always around, sometimes in uniform and with his partner, sometimes with a bunch of friends, sometimes alone. Brandon hated that he came around so often, but Brendon still hadn’t figured out if that was because Pete was a cop or because Brandon just had a problem with Pete and his friends on principle.

            Pete was pretty charismatic so Brendon had a hard time believing the latter, but then if anyone was going to have an issue with Pete just because, it would be Brandon.

            “God, can’t he take a hint?” Brendon asked, ducking his head and taking a gulp of his water.

            Audrey snickered. “He thinks you have a hot ass and he’s not going to stop until he’s pounded it into the mattress six ways to Sunday and back,” she said, eyebrows flying up in an expression of feigned innocence. “His words, not mine.”     

            Pete must have noticed Brendon’s flush because when Brendon caught his eye, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. There was a brief moment where Brendon considered letting his forehead hit the keys, but he decided against it and set his glass of water aside, resolved to ignoring Pete Wentz completely. Forever, if at all possible.

            “You’re such a prude,” Audrey said. “I’d do him.”

            And then she waved her fingers and wandered off before Brendon could tell her that she’d do anything if it sat still long enough. His lips quirked up at the silent comeback and he picked up where he’d left off, managing a few standards that most everyone lingering around had to be too drunk to recognize before a small blonde girl walked into the lounge, catching Brendon’s eye and offering him a grin.

            Brendon grinned back and looked over his shoulder. Audrey was sliding a glass of something to a man at one of the far tables, her breasts even with his face and her lips curved up in the kind of grin that people payed to see in Vegas. She stood up when she felt Brendon’s eyes on her (she always said she could feel Brendon’s eyes from across a crowded room, it was just one of those things) and caught sight of the blonde. He saw her say Cassie’s name and there was a flicker of fear in her eyes before she squared her shoulders and walked over.

            “Time to go, Brendon,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I already told Flowers we’re taking off early. He said it’s cool.”

            Brendon raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. That didn’t sound like Brandon but it was better than the previous plan of faking some kind of horrible illness to get off shift a few hours early. Brendon played the final notes of the song and then stood up, letting Audrey tug him toward the back.

            “Leaving so soon?” a genial voice asked.

            Brendon paused and looked around wildly before catching sight of Pete Wentz’s wide grin. It was weird, but Brendon was pretty sure he’d never talked to him before.

            “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve got a thing.”

            Pete’s eyebrows went up just the slightest bit before he nodded. “Well, have fun,” he said.

            “I’m sure we will,” Audrey told him while Brendon rolled his eyes.

_._

            Brendon drove because that was his whole purpose in being involved with this thing in the first place. Audrey didn’t have a car and Cassie’s was in the shop and they needed some mode of transportation that wasn’t a taxi. Brendon wasn’t sure that being their first choice was a good thing, but he was too busy freaking out to think about it.

            “You’re sure he said to meet you here?” Brendon hissed.

            Here was the kind of abandoned back alley that kicked off psychological thrillers and horror flicks and maybe even porn, but only the really psychotic kind of porn that nobody really got off on. It was dark, the only light coming from the one distant street lamp that actually worked. There were rusted over dumpsters lining the brick walls that cast the dirty ground in ominous shadows.

            “Yeah,” Cassie said, and she sounded nervous as hell.

            It was actually a mystery to Brendon as to how and why Cassie was even involved in this. She was a nice girl, smart and fun and funny and probably the only one of Audrey’s friends that Brendon could stand at all. It sort of made sense that Audrey had somehow ended up with stolen diamonds because Audrey always landed herself in some kind of trouble. It didn’t make any sense at all for Cassie to be present because she seemed to keep herself out of trouble as well as she could considering.

            “I think I see someone,” Audrey said, squinting out into the darkness.

            Brendon followed her gaze, eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses, and sure enough there was someone out there. A shadow next to the first someone moved and then there were two instead of one.

            “Okay,” Audrey said. “Let’s go.”

            She opened the door and slid out, Cassie climbing into the front seat and following. Brendon opened his door but Audrey leaned in and shook her head.

            “You stay here. We’ll be right back.”

            Brendon opened his mouth to argue but Audrey shut the door before he could say anything and he watched her silhouette follow Cassie’s toward the dark figures near the end of the alley. They stopped a few feet away and Brendon was watching them closely when it hit him that he recognized the two men in front of Audrey and Cassie.

            You didn’t grow up in Vegas without hearing about the Ways. They were like an urban legend only they were frighteningly real and had been for as long as Brendon could remember. It was only recently that the eldest son of the family had inherited everything, including his dead dad’s status as head of the local mafia, but Gerard Way had made quite the name for himself. The thing about him was, he was quiet and he was polite and no one could pin anything on him because his younger brother had the kind of legal connections any Hollywood hotshot would kill for. There had been a string of murders a couple of years back that were rumored to have been Gerard’s doing, but nobody could prove a damn thing.

            Brendon recognized the figures as the same two men who were never far from Gerard Way’s side during press conferences and public appearances. Those two were a legend unto themselves, supposedly raised by the family specifically for the purpose of protecting Mikey and Gerard and doing whatever they were told. They always seemed quiet and menacing in appearance but not in manner; anyone who fell for that act was an idiot. There was a reason Gerard would never be found guilty for any of the messier crimes he was behind. The two men that Audrey and Cassie were talking to got their hands dirty so Way didn’t have to.

            “Shit,” Brendon muttered, fingers clenching white-knuckled around the steering wheel.

            Audrey and Cassie had gotten involved with the fucking mafia. Jesus, it figured. It just fucking figured that somehow Audrey would get herself tangled up in the biggest fucking web of trouble she possibly could.

            The voices from outside drifted in through the open window, lingering in the chilled air and sliding down Brendon’s tensed spine with the same absurdly chilling effect as lines from a B-movie.

            “Do you have the diamonds?” one of them asked and Audrey answered affirmatively.

            “You have our money?”

            Brendon grimaced and there was patronizing male laughter followed by a, “You’re really kind of a rude little bitch, aren’t you?”

            Cassie’s arm snapped out and pinched Audrey viciously in the side before she could say anything scathing. “Ignore her,” the blonde said. “Just, we have the diamonds, okay? Are we fine now?”

            Brendon couldn’t be sure, but he thought the two men shared a look. One of them nodded. “As long as Gerard says we’re fine, we’re fine.”

            Brendon saw Cassie’s head move up and down in a jerky nod. “Okay,” she said. “How do we do this?”

            “One of you walks over here and hands the diamonds over,” one of Ways thugs said.

            “What about our money?” Audrey demanded, because she obviously hadn’t caught on to the fact that she was in no place to be making demands.

            “You’ll get it,” the man assured her. “After we get the diamonds.”

            Cassie pulled a small, velvet bag from her purse and strode forward. One of the men snatched it from her, hefted it in his hand and glanced inside before nodded.

            “Okay,” he said. “We’re done here.”

            He nodded at the other man who handed Cassie a smallish bag. As far as Brendon could tell, Cassie didn’t even look inside, just took a few steps backward before spinning on her heel and walking toward the car. She grabbed Audrey as she passed her and the two of them shared a glance and quickened their pace. Brendon bit his lip and flicked the headlights on, flooding the alley with light. He half expected for Way’s men to shoot Cassie and Audrey in the back and he kept one hand on the handle of his door until the two of them had hopped into his car.

            “Go,” Audrey hissed, breathless.

            Brendon didn’t need to be told twice. He peeled out of the alley. He pushed sixty on the main roads which was dangerous even that late at night, and didn’t slow down until he’d put a sizeable distance between them and where they’d left Way’s hunchmen. Cassie and Audrey were eerily quiet in the back seat and when Brendon glanced back, he saw that they were holding hands, still shaking.

            He frowned and turned his eyes back to the road.

            “It’s okay,” he said, trying to be reassuring. “It’s okay, we’re fine.”

            Which was about the time there was a horrible sound of metal scraping on metal and Brendon lost control of the car.

Chapter Two