Page 46 of Cat and Mouse

Captain Harris raises an eyebrow, like he doesn't believe me, but he doesn't push. He's about to say something else when Captain Whitmore strides into the deli, scanning the room like he's looking for someone. His eyes lock on me.

"Got a minute, Elizabeth?" His voice booms across the room. Heads turn.

I stand up, nerves prickling up my spine. Here we go.

Captain Harris stays seated, giving me a look like he's wishing me good luck as I follow the other captain outside.

"Captain?"

He doesn't waste any time. "I've got a CI. Says there's some kind of gala going down tonight. Big league players, top of the food chain. It's a charity event on paper, but we know better." He pauses, his eyes narrowing. "I want you to go undercover. You're the only one I trust on this."

"Undercover? As who?"

He crosses his arms, leaning in. "One of the sponsors backed out. You're taking their place. Blonde wig, brown contacts. You'll blend right in. We'll wire you up, but I need you to get in close, see what you can pick up. These guys are sharks, Elizabeth. Something big is happening in the Mafia world, and I want you to be my eyes and ears."

My stomach twists. Leo's voice echoes in my mind.

Stay out of my business.

"Of course, Captain," I say, keeping my voice steady. I can't tell him what I know. Can't risk implicating myself. Leo's right. I should stay away. But how the hell do I do that now?

He claps me on the shoulder. "Good. Get yourself ready. You'll have a gun on you, but stay sharp. These people don't play by the rules."

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'll be careful."

He walks off, leaving me standing there, the weight of the mission pressing down on me. I should be terrified. I should finda way to get out of this. But instead, all I can think about is Leo, and the way his voice sounded in my ear.

***

The sun dips below the skyline, casting a dark glow over the city as I pull up outside the Art Institute of Chicago. Of course the Mafia would throw a charity gala at one of the most prestigious venues in the city. My hands shake slightly as I smooth down the dress I'm wearing, a sleek black number that hugs my curves. I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror—platinum blonde wig, dark brown contacts, red lipstick. I barely recognize the woman staring back at me.

Undercover. Just blend in.

I strap the gun to my thigh, the cool metal sending a jolt of reality through me. This isn't some game. This is real. One wrong move, and I could end up in the morgue.

I walk up to the entrance, flashing the invite the captain got me. The doorman barely glances at it before ushering me in. Inside, the place is packed, men in tailored suits, women draped in designer gowns, champagne glasses clinking. But beneath the surface, there's tension. Power. Everyone in this room has blood on their hands, and they wear it like a badge of honor.

I head straight to the bar. My nerves are shot, and I need something to calm them. The bartender eyes me. I order a glass of champagne, downing it faster than I should. God, this is a mistake.

I feel a presence behind me before I even hear his voice.

"Well, well. Who do we have here?" His voice is smooth, but there's something slimy about it. I turn, forcing a smile onto my face.

The man in front of me is tall, mid-40s, with slicked-back dark hair and a suit that probably cost more than my entire apartment. His eyes rake over me, lingering on the curve of my hips, and I fight the urge to recoil.

"I don't believe we've met," I say, keeping my tone light, flirty even.Play the part, Elizabeth.

"I'm Marco," he says, flashing a grin that doesn't reach his eyes. "And you, my dear, are the sexiest thing I've seen all night."

Gross.

I resist the urge to gag. "Well, Marco, you're making me blush." I laugh, trying to sound interested, trying to ignore the way his hand brushes against mine on the bar.

He leans in, the smell of expensive cologne and cheap intentions wafting off him. "What's a girl like you doing here all alone?"

"I'm not alone," I lie, swirling the champagne in my glass. "I'm here on behalf of my company. They're one of the sponsors."

"Oh?" Marco raises an eyebrow. "And what company might that be?"

---