https://youtu.be/VIzlEyeGAhA

The velvet thrum of bass shook the air inside Secrets, every beat syncing with the pulse of neon lights that slid like paint across the polished floor.

Bodies moved in lazy rhythm beneath chandeliers and stage strobes, faces blurred by alcohol and intention. Midnight in London didn't sleep—not in places like this. The music changed—Chokehold by Austin Giorgio poured through the speakers, smoky and smooth, as if the walls themselves knew how to seduce. And right in the middle of it all, Gabby sat like sin wrapped with temptation.

Her dress shimmered like the night sky—deep teal scattered with tiny flecks of silver glitter, hugging every curve with unapologetic elegance.

The off-shoulder sleeves framed her collarbones like they were carved from moonlight, while the tie-front dipped low enough to be dangerous. A neat cut-out along her midsection gave a teasing peek of skin, making her look worth chasing after.

Her legs crossed slowly—those shimmering rhinestone lace-up stilettos catching the light like stars had been wrapped around her calves. Every step she took earlier had commanded the floor. Now, every still moment owned the booth she sat in.

Her makeup was sharp and sexy. A thick wing of black liner sliced above her lash line, edged in glitter like silver blades. Her lashes were long and curled to the gods, her light cocoa skin flawless, and her lips painted in a high-gloss nude that shimmered with every slow smirk. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, not a strand out of place.

She leaned back in the booth like she belonged there. Because tonight, she was seated across from Harkin. He was already sweating, not just from the heat, but from the drink.

Gabby twirled the straw in her own untouched glass as she offered him a smile that could melt stone.

"So..." Her voice was smooth honey. "Tell me more about what you do. You said earlier... you're a 'handler'?"

Harkin blinked, his pupils just loose enough to speak freely but not slur.

The drug Laswell gave her earlier (before leaving her house with just a travel bag of her chosen attire since she had added on her makeup and her well-done hair) was working—subtle, meant to relax the body and blur the instinct to lie chemically in the brain.

Just enough to make a subject, like him, to talk without withholding any critical information.

"Middleman, really," he said, resting his arm on the booth. "I get calls. I move things. I don't ask questions. That's how you stay alive in my line of work."

Her lashes fluttered. "Mysterious."

"I keep it clean. They don't tell me much, I don't ask for much. Transfer a crate here. Get paid through a few funds. I don't touch anything bloody. Never do."

"Crates?" she echoed, leaning forward just enough to keep his eyes on her neckline. "Like what?"

"Supplies. Weapons. Sometimes parts. Hell, one time I think it was tech—servers or drives or somethin'."

She smiled again, placing a hand lightly on his forearm. "And you trust who you work for?"

He hesitated.

Gabby tilted her head, still smiling sweetly. "I mean, that doesn't sound very middleman of you. Right?"

"No, no. It's not like that," he said, almost chuckling while shaking his head. "I don't work for one guy. I work through a chain. Russian mob boss at the top, maybe. But I don't see him. Never met him. Just get instructions through my boss."

Gabby hid the flicker of interest in her eyes and hummed thoughtfully. "Your boss? Do you get along with him?"

He laughed again, slower this time. "Maybe. But, I think I might be assigned to do deep shit. Got asked to move something big in a next couple of weeks... or maybe the end of this month. I'm talkin' about multiple ports. Not just London."

"What ports?" she asked softly.

He narrowed his eyes, the haze setting in. "I dunno, maybe... Lisbon? Rio? Prague? Everything goes through containers anyway. I don't see the labels."

Gabby reached for his drink and refilled it, her fingers brushing his. "You should relax more," she purred. "It must be exhausting, carrying all these secrets."

He laughed again, looser this time. "You have no idea."

Gabby smiled lazily across the table, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass.

"Come on," she murmured softly, "you're sitting here with me and not saying a word. I promise I won't tell your boss." She gave a playful wink and continued, "you mentioned you were feeling stressed."

Harkin, bleary-eyed and flushed from the spiked drink laced with truth cocktail, grinned sloppily and leaned back into the booth. The music pounded around them—Chokehold had just faded into the thick bass of Hypnotic Data (slowed + reverb), echoing in the club's veins like static-drenched seduction.

He laughed, waving a hand. "You wouldn't believe the week I've had."

"Try me," she leaned forward, cleavage just enough to keep his attention anchored where she wanted it.

Harkin licked his lips and smirked more before he continued, "I work for guys who don't ask questions, alright? Big names. Scary ones. Guys like me—we're not supposed to mess up."

"You messed up?" she asked sweetly, resting her chin on her knuckles.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing a hand over his face and looked away. "I stole something. I mean, technically. It was Rich's. My boss. He had this encrypted drive... said it was above his pay grade. Above mine too. But I thought, if I could get it cracked..."

Gabby tilted her head, the comms line open in her ear catching John's low voice—"Stay with him, Halo. Don't push. Let him spill the milk."

"I hired a guy," Harkin continued, his voice growing slurry but loose. "Said he could break into it. But he failed. Fried the damn drive—or thought he did."

"Mmhm," Gabby said, swirling her drink and never looking away. "So what'd you do?"

"Well... I was going to do something about it until Rich found out," his eyes glazed when he looked back at Gabby—aka stage name, Angel. "He accused me—right there, middle of the night. I panicked. I—I gave it to my ex. Told her to hold onto it."

Her brows lifted—subtle, controlled. "Your ex?"

"Yeah... Charlie. Sweet girl. Head over heels for me once."

There was silence in two beats until Gabby heard John scoffed through her earpiece.

"She didn't even know what it was," Harkin said, unaware of how fast he was spiraling. "Told her it was for safekeeping. Figured I'd deal with it later, you know? But she broke it off. Filed a restraining order instead."

"You?" Her tone stayed light, laced with disbelief.

"She didn't want anything to do with me," he frowned then. "Cops dragged me outta my place. Jail time. Rich bailed me out months later—but he never knew I gave her the drive."

Gabby set her glass down slowly, her eyes still soft even as her brain processed every word.

"And Rich, your boss, thinks you still had it?"

"Yeah," Harkin exhaled.

She leaned back, letting that silence stretch long enough for him to relax. Then she smiled.

"You poor thing,"

"You ever have one of those nights where everything you do just fucks up your whole life?"

Gabby grinned.

"Oh baby," she said, her voice sugar and blades, "you have no idea."

Harkin slouched deeper into the velvet booth, his drink half-finished, his pupils slow to track the glitter of lights overhead. The chemical cocktail was working—he wasn't drugged, just relaxed enough to talk without a filter.

"Like, I would've been dead if Rich hired a hitman to kidnap and then force me to talk... and then I got kidnapped again and those motherfuckers... damn... I can't remember what they look like...," he paused and groaned as he rubbed his eyes since the sting of headaches was becoming known. "Fuck, I know that guy... shit... he tried to fry my dick! Like I'll be living without my manhood and I won't make babies! Not like I don't want kids or wanted too, anyways. That motherfucker is a beast... like he don't give a shit who you are..."

"Who is 'he'?"

"I don't know, Angel," Harkin groaned. "The guy with a dark beard and icy stare like he's gonna come after you and fuck you up. Next thing, you know, he'll tie you up and then he'll either cut your balls or put a bullet in your forehead. Like, he's a fucking monster."

John. Gabby added mentally as she continued listening to him with a smile.

"Are you scared of him?"

"Fuck no," Harkin said in distaste.

Gabby raised an eyebrow.

"Not like he's gonna fuck me like tattoos men in prison would," Harkin said quickly. "I been into one. Thank god I wasn't raped, but I was unprepared."

"You're saying that out of guilty conscious,"

Harkin scoffed. "Whatever. You see, everything is all clustered fuck. I mean, the girl I met at a social event last year. A carnival. She was real damn sweet. Innocent. Barely even looked like she belonged there."

She tilted her head, resting her arm on the backrest now, eyes studying him under glitter-shadowed lids. "She sounds like a breath of fresh air."

Harkin snorted. "She was. Still is, probably. All soft smiles and easy to trust. Like she had no business talkin' to a guy like me, but she did anyway."

"What drew you to her?" Gabby asked before sipping her drink.

"She made it easy," he answered. "That kind of girl is all heart, no guard. One of those that falls hard—fast. Told her I was in-between jobs, and she believed me."

"She ever tell you about her parents?" Gabby asked another question.

Harkin laughed again, this time, bitterly.

"No, but she told me she was raised by her cousins. Her mom had a sister, her aunt Keller, or whatever the last name she said. She had that whole 'strong on the outside, but damn near desperate for affection' thing goin'. Like she has issues."

Gabby let her silence speak for her. That was enough. But Harkin didn't notice—too busy rolling his empty glass in his hand.

"I thought about takin' her," he said next, almost casually. "I mean, really takin' her. She was so damn easy to win over. All I had to do was show up when I said I would and not be a dick. That's all it took. Girl didn't know better. She just wanted someone to look at her like she mattered."

Gabby kept her face neutral. Placing her hand on her thigh under the table, her knuckles white. She needed to keep him talking. This was intel, and the more he spilled, the tighter the noose.

"But then came him," he said, then scoffed, finishing the last sip of his drink.

"Him?"

"Older guy," Harkin continued. "Seen him once. At her apartment I wanted to see her. Her roommate don't like me but I don't give a shit. That presence. You know the type?"

Her smile didn't flicker, but her pulse ticked.

John.

Again.

It seems like Harkin hadn't put the puzzles in together yet. That truth cocktail is miraculously working.

"Did she leave you for him?" she asked carefully.

"Maybe," Harkin muttered, jaw flexing. "It all started that she been keepin' her distance. She won't answer my calls, says she needs space. I figured it out before it was too late when she threw me in jail. Now, when I saw that guy. He's older than her.

"I'm like, who the fuck is he and why is she dating an old man? I swear, she has issues. Like, for real."

Harkin then leaned forward and smiled crookedly.

"That man I met, he look like the kind of bastard who doesn't leave room for anyone else. Maybe he wants her because she's sweet and innocent and he ain't good as I am."

Gabby played it off with a low hum. "Sounds like he got under your skin."

"Damn right, he did," Harkin said sharply and leaned back. "Who the hell was he to come in and take her? I gave her attention. I was there. And she goes and gets all wrapped up in some old bastard who would treat her like property."

In her ear, John added.

"He's a fucking liar."

Gabby ignored it, keeping her tone light. "So what'd you do?"

"Nothing, I thought I wanted to plot a murder but it's useless, I don't wanna get years behind bars so I had my friends break into her apartment and look for the drive for me," Harkin confessed—but now it sounded hollow. "And maybe get her after I get the drive from her. I can take down John since I don't want Rich breathing down my neck about that damn drive—I figured I'd sell it."

Her eyes flicked toward him, interest piqued. "So... you want the drive back and you want him dead?"

"Yeah," he nodded slowly. "Thought it'd buy me leverage."

Gabby leaned in just a little. "And?"

"Didn't work. I don't know how the hell did the guy survived through gun shots and shit. If only I didn't gave it to my ex."

A pause.

"And Rich?" Gabby asked softly. "When was the last time you seen him?"

Harkin shrugged. "I don't know... maybe... a week ago? I don't know, Angel. I tried calling him. He ain't picking up so I'm officially broke."

Her heart thudded once behind her ribs. In her ear, John's silence was deafening. Gabby pulled out her phone and when she told him she got a text from her babes. She texted John quick.

Gabby: Rich doesn't know Charlie had the drive. That's why Harkin been after her.

She saw a three dot bubble and his response was clipped.

John: Fucking coward.

Then, she placed her phone back onto her small purse and glanced at him.

"You must have had a ton of shit thrown at you, Micky. You poor baby," she cooed.

He sighed.

"Yeah. I kinda miss her... but... she was the kind that needed someone. That ache, y'know? Like no one had ever stayed long enough to fix it. Just kept gettin' let down by everyone. I thought I could be the one for her."

Gabby held back a reaction, watching him carefully.

But then—he perked up, straightening slightly in his seat.

"Oh, there's my girl."

Gabby followed his gaze across the club, where a woman was striding through the strobing blue and pink lights like she belonged on a cover.

Daisy.

Her hair was platinum blonde, curled to perfection and glossy under the club lights. She wore a skin-tight red leather mini dress with deep plunge neckline that sparkled with embedded rhinestones. The hem barely reached her thighs, and the heels on her feet were stilettos dipped in chrome. Her lips were firetruck red, matching her manicured nails. She strutted straight through the crowd, unfazed by the stares. Harkin's eyes tracked her like a hound.

"My favorite girl," he said, already sliding out of the booth.

Gabby smiled lazily, tilting her head. "Already moving on, huh?"

He grinned and dug into his back pocket, flicking his number onto the table between them. "Don't be jealous, sweetpea. We had a moment."

Gabby picked up the card without blinking. "Oh, I'm not jealous. You were just the warm-up."

Harkin gave a wink, turned around, and walked over to Daisy. She welcomed him with a smile, wrapping her arms around his neck, and then he guided her toward the velvet rope leading to the VIP rooms. The moment they disappeared, her eyes sharpened. She stood and grabbed her drink as she took a full swing before pushing her earpiece.

"Target's on the move. He's going upstairs with the escort. VIP lounge, second floor."

"Meet me at the bar," he commanded, his voice tense with anger.

Gabby exhaled through her nose, already making her way out of the room. "You get two shots," she added. "Because if he laid his hand on Charlie once and did it again. I want you to kill that fuckhead for me."

He chuckled darkly through her ear comm.

"With pleasure, Knocks."