"What's the deal with the name of this place anyway? Does Ricky Martin own it or something?" Matt cocked a brow, staring up at the flashing neon strip club sign that read La Vida Loca in thick cursive.

We'd been sitting in our stolen SUV for twenty minutes, casing the club and going over our game plan. Alana had hacked into La Vida Loca's security feed for us and verified that Miguel Santiago was indeed living it up on alcohol and strippers just on the other side of those doors. Tonight was likely our best opportunity to take his ass down, as we suspected that he'd be off to Madrid to move shipments the next day.

After ordering room service at the hotel – thank heavens we finally got to eat – the three of us had readied all of our weapons, geared up for battle, and slipped out a side exit so we wouldn't draw attention to ourselves in the lobby. The drive across town was fairly quick, despite the large number of tourists roaming the streets at nine o'clock, and we'd arrived at the far northern tip of Barcelona within a mere fifteen minutes.

Putting our heads together, having all raided a strip club at some point in each of our careers, we came up with a plan that I thought was pretty decent, considering how many enemies we were potentially up against.

First, Matt was going to head inside, pretending to be a regular customer. Since he wasn't originally supposed to be involved in this mess, we decided to take a gamble on the idea that Santiago and his cohorts wouldn't be expecting to see Matt Carver there. With any luck, he'd be able to successfully let Dallas and me know what was going on inside the club and tell us when would be the best time to jump into the action.

Next, Dallas and I would move in from the alley behind the building. Alana's quick research on the strip club's blueprint had told us that the entertainers' dressing rooms would be on the left side of that back door and the bathrooms would be to the right. I was sure plenty of patrons went in and out that back door to smoke or to take a fist fight outside, so I doubted anyone back there would think anything of Dallas and me entering from the alley.

The rest of the plan was tentative. We didn't know what to expect or how many other drug lords and their bodyguards might be there with Santiago, so we decided to play the rest by ear.

"When do you think would be best to go in?" Matt looked back and forth between us.

I glanced over at the entrance. The bouncer we'd been keeping an eye on for twenty minutes had apparently gone on a smoke break with no one to take over during his absence.

"Now seems like as good a time as any," I said, my focus trained on the door. "At least you won't have to deal with the beefcake that was guarding the entrance."

Matt took another look around the parking lot and nodded to us, getting out of the vehicle and quietly shutting the door. Dallas and I watched carefully as he headed into the strip club without a problem.

I blew out a heavy sigh of relief when the bouncer didn't emerge from the shadows and chase after him.

"How do you feel about tonight?" Dallas asked softly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. "You seem tense, Tali. You alright?"

I tried to play it off like it was nothing, but I knew he could tell something was up. Dallas and I had been on so many missions together. He'd probably memorized every detail about how I handled a mission, whether it was the tone of my voice, or the way I breathed when I discussed the plan, or even the slightest change in my complexion. He knew me inside and out – literally and figuratively. The was no such thing as bullshitting Dallas David. He'd see right through it every time.

Still, I was determined to avoid the conversation that would surely follow if I admitted to him how I actually felt. I hated the thought of lying to him, but I refused to tell him that I was stewing in the heinous worry that tonight's infiltration of La Vida Loca could mirror the events of the raid on Bellucci's drug warehouse four years prior. The only difference was that we didn't have a backup team to swoop in and save our asses if the situation went south. We were on our own this time, and it was kind of terrifying when I let myself think about it.

"Tali?" Dallas frowned, his hand squeezing mine in a reassuring way. "Tell me what's wrong. Do you not want to go through with this?"

No, I didn't want to go through with it. Who in their right mind would want to waltz into the belly of the beast with no reinforcements and try to take out one, if not two, of the highest ranking drug lords in Europe? Ideally, I'd love to see both Santiago and Bellucci lying dead in a heap, but there was a fifty-fifty chance of that actually happening. If things went to hell, we were goners. We couldn't afford to fuck this mission up.

Suddenly, I was back in that dark, dingy, freezing cold warehouse, slinking along the wall after the shootout that had claimed the lives of three of my teammates. I was shaking, though I did my best to remain calm and stealthy. I was overcome with the chill in the air, but I refused to let it hinder my abilities. I was angry, infuriated, by the murder of three of my closest friends. I was hell bent on getting revenge. I would make it my personal mission to destroy Enrique Bellucci, but not before I'd make him suffer for what he had done to me, to my team, to the Alpha Reconnaissance Taskforce, and to every other innocent person that he'd hurt on the way to his drug dealing throne. Enrique Bellucci was going to pay for his sins in the most excruciating way I could come up with. It was what he deserved.

"Tali? Tali, are you okay? Talk to me." The sound of Dallas's worried voice came in and out, from a dull echo to a loud roar in my ears.

I blinked and swallowed and the memory had washed away, leaving behind it a new fire within my spirit that was demanding to be set free where it could burn wildly and destroy everything in its path. It was a fire that would engulf the drug lords who were responsible for all the hell that Dallas and Matt and I had been put through. It was an inferno crafted specially for revenge.

I breathed in deeply, a sense of excitement dancing through the air around me, and I smiled a cruel, confident grin at the new feeling of fearlessness coursing through my red hot veins. The old broken, alcoholic, bitter Natalia was now a thing of the past, and in her place was a woman with an entirely new outlook on life... and death.

"Tali, are you feeling alright?" Dallas asked, his hand on my shoulder lightly shaking me. "It's early enough into this that we can call it off if you're not feeling up to it. I'll just radio to Matt-"

"No," I said in a monotone voice, my eyes fixed on the club entrance. "I'm more than ready. I want to do this, Dallas. I need to do this... for our teams, for our friends... for us. I'll be fine. Really."

He studied me skeptically at first, but I knew by the end of my response that he understood what was going through my mind. Hell, he could probably see the replay of Washington D.C. flashing in my eyes. Dallas was the closest that any person I'd ever met had come to being a mind reader. It was one of many talents he wielded that made him dangerous as hell and nearly invincible.

A few seconds later, Matt's voice came in in between the static in our earbuds.

"Hey, guys. Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Dallas answered through the hidden mic behind his shirt collar. "How's it looking in there?"

There was a short pause, followed by some rustling around and the sound of a woman laughing in the background.

"Well, let's just say I now know to stay away from the entertainers," he chuckled, an almost unnoticeable squeak in his voice, and I knew he had to be blushing.

Dallas and I shared a knowing look and I rolled my eyes, imagining the strippers trying to put on a show for Matt.

"That's not what we sent you in there for," I said in a half-amused-half-stern tone. "How does everything look risk wise? Do you see Santiago or Bellucci anywhere?"

Another short pause. "Not yet. I haven't seen anything that differed from the usual locals and tourists partying it up. The strobe lights and darkness don't exactly help either."

Since I didn't know how long we were going to be sitting out in the SUV, I decided to make good use of my time and double check all of my weapons, making sure each of my firearms was fully loaded, sharpening a couple of my knives, and slipping extra clips in my pockets. I could feel Dallas's eyes on me the entire time, but I knew that if I looked at him, I'd start thinking about Washington, D.C. again, and I couldn't let myself get distracted with that. I had to stay focused.

"You seem different," Dallas mumbled, his voice deep and gruff. "Like something changed with your emotions."

"Different?" I continued gliding my knife blade over the small sharpening stone in my hand, my eyes never leaving it. "I'm determined, Dallas. I'm focused. I'm pissed off. I want to get this over with."

Before he could respond, Matt's voice sounded in our ears again.

"Guys, I see Santiago," he said in a hushed tone. "I'm about twenty yards from him. He's over on the east side of the building with a stripper on his knee. He's got two guys with him. One of them is Bellucci. I don't recognize the other. Three guys, probably some of his henchmen, have gone over to talk to him in the last five minutes. They're pretty muscled up, but I think I could take 'em."

"You think it's safe for us to head in?" I asked, slipping my knife back into the side of my boot.

"Affirmative. Move in when you're ready."

Dallas and I nodded to each other when we were both ready, and he drove the SUV around the back side of the strip club and into the alleyway.

Three rusty, smelly dumpsters sat side by side, each one overflowing with garbage. The ground was littered with cigarette butts and broken beer bottles. Two men, approximately in their late twenties, were passed out drunk a few feet from where we'd stopped the car.

Dallas snorted a laugh at the sight. "Nice place, huh?"

"Charming." I shook my head and made a beeline for the back door, my shirt untucked and hanging over my hips to conceal my sidearm.

When I opened the door, the volume of the music and the heaviness of the bass beat was almost startling. I could feel it vibrating through my entire body. I cringed at the blend of noise from the Top 40 club music, the drunk men shouting and throwing money at the strippers, and the seemingly endless sound of breaking glass when intoxicated customers threw down their beer and shot glasses.

Dallas and I made our way down the back hallway and over to the bar where we split up – him staying at the bar and me venturing off to the backstage area where the dancers were disappearing to after their performances were over.

I opened what I assumed would be the door to the backstage changing area and I was greeted with an unforgettable image of nearly a dozen women either naked or nearly naked. Some of them had just finished their routines and some were getting ready to go onstage.

A quick plan came to my mind and I sought out the woman who appeared to be in charge. She was pretty tall, probably about six-foot-one, with tight curls in her raven black hair and a beauty mark on the right side of her face, just above her lips. She looked tired and overworked, though she seemed to be keeping up a cheery demeanor.

I approached the woman, greeting her with a smile and flashing her my fake Italian federal agent identification where only she could see. I didn't want the performers to see, for fear that they might scream or do something to alert Santiago and Bellucci that something was amiss. I needed the element of surprise, and I was sure that this woman could aid in my plan.

Quietly, I told her in Spanish that I was working undercover and that I needed her help to be able to arrest Miguel Santiago with as little commotion as possible. I could tell by the way her eyes lit up at my words that this woman was not a fan of Santiago's, and she proceeded to tell me in almost a whisper that he and his cronies had been terrorizing the entertainers for years, threatening to shoot anyone who wouldn't comply with their egregious sexual demands.

I was disgusted to the point of nausea hearing that, but her confidential words had helped me derive an even better plan than what I'd been thinking of.

I rushed an explanation to Matt and Dallas via our hidden wires, and then it was time to coordinate. The new plan? The boys would be picking off Santiago and Bellucci's men one by one while I played the drug lords' libidinous entertainer for the evening.