Riley leaned against the bar, adjusting the strap on her shoe for what felt like the hundredth time. The red heels were killing her feet, but at this point, she was used to the pain. After weeks of undercover shifts at the club, the blaring music, the haze of cigarette smoke, and the long hours were starting to blur together and the initial thrill of blending in had begun to wear off.

As she mixed drinks and polished glasses, she often found her mind wandering back to Luke Maddox. She hadn't seen him since her first night undercover, nearly three weeks ago, when he had punched Jackson and kissed her stupid in the locker room before heading back to his own deep cover assignment. The thought of his lips, firm and insistent, had sent a shiver down her spine as if he had reached a part of her no one else ever had. He was completely isolated now- he'd been set up with a new identity, new apartment, a new life.

She wondered how he was holding up. Deep cover operations were inherently dangerous, and she had to admit it: she worried about him. He was off somewhere, trying to join a dangerous arms trafficking organization with no contact with anyone other than his handler.

"Hey, Riley!" A voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. It was Lila, one of the dancers, leaning over the bar with a playful smile. "You've got to try this new drink I just invented! It's called the 'Tequila Sunrise'—but I added a splash of cranberry juice. It's like a party in a glass!"

Riley chuckled, shaking her head. "You mean it's just a slightly different Tequila Sunrise?"

Lila laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Exactly! But I'm telling you, it's a game-changer."

Riley shook her head, trying to refocus. "I'll stick to mixing the classics, thanks. But I appreciate the creativity."

As Lila moved back toward the stage, Riley resumed her work, pouring another round of shots for a group of rowdy guys celebrating a birthday. The club was busier than usual tonight, the air thick with energy and excitement. As Riley handed the drinks over, she listened to snippets of conversation around her, trying to pick up anything that might be relevant to her mission. Most of it was typical bar chatter—people bragging about their lives, complaining about work, and laughing at the antics of the dancers.

Riley sat at the bar during a quiet moment in her shift, wiping down the counter while her mind spun with the puzzle pieces she'd been collecting. Over the past few weeks, she'd overheard bits of conversation from drunk idiots, the kind of guys who were always trying to show off about being part of something bigger. They'd brag about deals, shipments, and dirty money, but nothing they said ever added up to anything solid. Just fragments—scraps of useless information that never quite fit together. She'd spent so much time trying to chase those fleeting moments, hoping one of them would slip up and give her something she could actually use. But so far, it had all led nowhere.

Frustration gnawed at her. She felt like she was running in circles, barely making progress, while time slipped through her fingers. But then, as she stared out across the club, a realization began to settle in her chest. She'd been focusing in the wrong place. The men who strutted around the club like they owned it didn't know anything important. They were on the fringes of the operation, not the core. If she really wanted answers, she needed to stop wasting her time on the showboaters. Instead, she needed to talk to the people who had been around long enough to know the real story—the other bartenders, the dancers. They'd seen things, heard things. They were the ones who had been around this business for years. They were the ones who might hold the key to cracking this open.

The night dragged on in the usual rhythm: serving drinks, making small talk, and keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious. A few patrons lingered at the bar, and Riley indulged them in some flirtatious banter, but nobody came along who actually knew anything.

During a lull, Riley finally struck up a conversation with one of the other bartenders, a blonde with a no-nonsense attitude named Tess. They talked casually about work, and after a few minutes, Riley carefully steered the conversation toward the club's regulars.

"Been here long?" Riley asked as she wiped down the bar, her voice light but curious.

Tess shrugged, pouring a drink for a customer. "Long enough. Couple years, maybe?"

"What's it like?" Riley asked, leaning in slightly. "Any regulars I should know about? Any good tippers I should be keeping an eye out for?" She winked.

Tess eyed her for a second, as if trying to figure out if Riley was just making conversation or fishing for something more. Eventually, she shrugged again. "We get all kinds. But there's these two guys... Michael and Chris, I think. They used to come in like clockwork, always right before closing, meeting with the owners in the back. Don't see them much anymore, but for a while, they were always around. "

Riley's heart skipped a beat. "Michael and Chris?"

"Yeah," Tess nodded, tossing a rag over her shoulder. "Shady types. Didn't say much, and you could tell they weren't here for the drinks or the dancers. But, hey, they always tipped well."

Riley filed the information away, her mind racing. It was the first solid lead she'd gotten from anyone inside the club, and it was exactly the kind of break they needed. If these guys were involved with the owners, it could be the key to unraveling the whole operation.

Later in the night, during a short break, Riley found herself in the locker room, slipping off her shoes and letting her sore feet breathe for a moment. A dancer she'd seen a few times, a tall woman with dark hair named Sasha, sat down next to her, lighting a cigarette.

"You look like you've been here for hours," Sasha commented, her voice low and raspy.

Riley chuckled, nodding. "Feels like it. You?"

Sasha exhaled a cloud of smoke and glanced around the empty locker room. "Too many years, honestly. But it's a job, right?"

Riley seized the opportunity. "Hey, can I ask you something? I'm looking for some extra shifts to make a little extra cash. Do you know of any special events coming up?"

Sasha gave her a sharp look but didn't say anything for a moment. Eventually, she sighed, flicking her cigarette. "Yeah, actually. A couple years back, the bosses started having monthly meetings after the club closes for the night. They usually bring in a couple dancers and a couple waitresses- and they usually tip pretty good."

Riley's pulse quickened and she masked her excitement with an easy grin. "That sounds perfect. Do you know when the next one is?"

Sasha frowned, thinking. "Middle of the month. I wanna say the fifteenth? But I could be wrong. Whatever they were up to, though, it wasn't small-time."

Riley thanked her and left the locker room, her mind buzzing with new possibilities. This was the break they needed. If she could get on that shift on the fifteenth, she could figure out who these guys were, what they were doing, and they might be able to bring down the whole operation.

She slipped back into the main area of the club, heading back toward the bar. She sighed, wiping some glasses down and gazing out over the seating area.

Then, she saw him.

Riley's breath caught in her throat as Luke walked in with two men, clearly still in deep cover, looking every bit the part of someone who belonged in this world of secrets and shadows. His eyes swept over the room with sharp precision, though they didn't land on her. Not yet. Her heart skipped a beat, and her stomach did a little flip, but she quickly schooled her expression into one of indifference. No matter how her chest tightened, she couldn't risk giving anything away.

It had been weeks since she'd seen him, and the memory of their kiss rushed back with startling clarity—the heat of it, the tension that had been building between them for so long finally breaking in one dizzying moment. She remembered the way his hands had gripped her, firm yet tender, and how, just for that fleeting time, all the danger and rules had fallen away.

They took a table in the far back corner, shrouded in shadows. Luke was sitting close to the other men, his body language stiff but confident, completely absorbed in the business they were discussing. He was good—too good, moving with the kind of ease that made it hard to believe he wasn't actually one of them. His eyes were sharp, calculating, as he laughed at something one of the men said, his posture relaxed but alert, like he was always ready for whatever might happen next. She forced herself to focus on her job, filling drinks, wiping down the bar, anything to keep her mind off him.

She couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself. There was something undeniably dangerous about him in this role, a dark edge that sent a shiver down her spine. Luke had always been protective and controlled, but here, in the thick of his undercover work, he looked untouchable. The roughness of his demeanor, the way his jaw clenched when he listened, and the way he seemed to command the attention of the guys around him—it was intense, and yeah, she had to admit it, it was hot. Really hot.

Riley bit her lip, forcing herself to focus back on her task, but the sight of Luke—dangerous, confident, and in total control—lingered in her mind. She wasn't sure what was more frustrating: the fact that he was so good at his job, or how much she wanted him despite everything that stood between them.

Don't look. Do not look.

But her gaze flicked over to him anyway. She couldn't help it. It had been weeks since she'd seen him, and now he was just a few feet away, lost in a conversation with dangerous men. There was something magnetic about seeing him like this—his undercover persona, tough and calculating, slipping into this role as if he'd lived it his whole life.

The meeting lasted for what felt like hours. She tried to steal glances without being obvious, just to make sure he was okay, to reassure herself that he was still Luke beneath all the layers of pretense. When the group finally broke apart, her heart skipped a beat. Luke stayed behind as the other men filtered out of the club. He stood up, stretched his arms, then made his way toward the bar. Toward her.

Her pulse quickened as he sauntered over, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. He had a swagger about him that she hadn't seen before, like he was shedding some of his usual intensity. It took every ounce of her composure not to react when he leaned against the counter and met her eyes with a smirk, his expression more relaxed than she'd ever seen it.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice lower, more playful than usual. "Got anything behind that bar that'll help me forget this dump of a night?"

Riley blinked, taken aback for a second. She wasn't used to hearing him like this, with a flirtatious edge, as if they were strangers meeting for the first time. She felt her lips curve into a smirk before she could stop herself.

"Depends on what you're looking for," she shot back, letting her voice carry the same teasing edge. "I've got plenty of options, but nothing that'll fix your taste in company."

Luke chuckled, the sound of it low and rich, and he leaned in a little closer, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a jolt down her spine. "Maybe I like bad company," he said, resting his arm on the counter in front of her. His fingers drummed lightly on the wood, and she noticed how close his hand was to hers. "Keeps things interesting."

Riley tilted her head slightly, enjoying the banter more than she should. "If by 'interesting,' you mean getting yourself into trouble, then yeah, I can see that."

He grinned, a flash of something mischievous crossing his face, and it made her heart stutter. This wasn't the usual Luke—the protective, always-on-edge Luke who couldn't stop hovering over her like a shield. No, this was different. He was playing a role, sure, but there was an ease to him tonight, a lightness that made her want to see just how far she could push this.

"You got me all figured out, huh?" Luke's voice dropped lower as he leaned in even closer. "Tell you what. Surprise me. I'll take whatever you think I deserve."

Riley's brow arched, and she fought back a smile. "You sure you're ready for that?" She grabbed a glass, already deciding on what to pour.

He rested his chin on his hand, eyes still locked on hers. "Pretty sure. I trust your judgment."

That word—"trust"—hung in the air between them. It wasn't lost on her, and she could tell by the way his eyes softened, just for a second, that it wasn't lost on him either. But she didn't let it linger. She was in control here, and she wasn't about to let the moment turn into something deeper, not when they were both undercover, not with so many eyes on them.

She grabbed a bottle of bourbon, poured a neat glass, and slid it toward him with a smirk. "You'll need this more than I do."

Luke's fingers brushed against hers as he picked up the glass, and the brief contact sent a spark through her that she tried to ignore. He raised the glass in a mock salute before taking a slow sip, his eyes still fixed on her over the rim.

"Not bad," he murmured after he swallowed, setting the glass back down. His lips quirked up into a grin. "You might actually know what you're doing."

She leaned against the counter, giving him a playful shrug. "I've been known to get it right every now and then."

Luke let out another low chuckle, the sound wrapping around her like warm whiskey, and he leaned in just a little bit closer, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for her. "You've got no idea how right you are."

Her heart raced, and she swallowed, trying to keep her cool. She couldn't let this get to her. Not here. Not now. Not when they were both in too deep.

But damn, it was hard to stay unaffected when he looked at her like that.

Luke's fingers lingered on the glass before he straightened up and nodded toward the door where the men had left. "I should get back. Don't want to keep the bad company waiting too long."

Riley gave him a nod, playing it off like it was just another exchange, like her pulse wasn't racing. "You know where to find me if you need another."

Luke winked, that easy, confident smirk still playing on his lips. "Count on it."

As he walked away, Riley exhaled slowly, feeling a mixture of relief and something else—something she didn't want to name—settle in her chest. This side of Luke, the one that could flirt and joke and forget about the weight of the world for just a second, it was... intoxicating.

But the reality remained: they were both playing dangerous games, and no matter how good this felt, they couldn't afford to let their guard down.

*********************************

Author's Note:

Okay, so here's the deal. 

Your girl has NEVER written smut before, and we have some SPICE coming up in the next chapters. 

This is a PSA, BEGGING anyone and everyone for advice!! How much smut are we feeling? How much detail? How much to you want to see? Let me know in the comments! Your wish is my command!