Prologue
Observation notes: Day one. Initial observation begins tonight. My goal is to slip into the bar and assess the subjects inside. My sources have told me that a great deal of illicit activity occurs within the confines of the bar owned by the mysterious Ramsey Hyde. Everyone knows about Ramsey’s reputation.
If I’m lucky, he’ll never even know I’m there.
***
Dr. Whitney Augustine took a deep breath and offered a tentative smile to the bouncer who sat on the old, wooden stool just outside of the bar.
He didn’t smile back. He glared. “Lady, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Looking for a drink?” Her brows climbed. “This is a bar, isn’t it?”
His gaze slid over her. He took in her loose, flowing top. Her jeans. Her high heels.
“Uh, is there like…a cover fee or something that I have to pay?” This was getting awkward. She’d watched other people slide inside the bar with no problem. The bouncer had barely glanced at them. But when she’d tried to stride boldly past him, he’d lifted up his hand to halt her progress.
“We’re at capacity.” He pointed over her shoulder. “You should get back in your ride and head down the road. I’m sure there are more bars open. Try finding a place on the beach.”
Her shoulders squared. “I don’t want another bar. I want this place.” Whitney released a long breath before saying the phrase she was about ninety percent sure would get her inside. “There is business I must conduct in Ramsey’s. I’m looking to hire someone for…a bit of work that I have.”
He stared back at her. Just stared.
He was in his early twenties, with long, brown hair and clad in a black t-shirt.
Whitney kept her chin up as she waited for his response. The intel she’d obtained had told her that Ramsey’s bar was a front. Inside, all sorts of dark deals were arranged. If you went in Ramsey’s, you were either a criminal or someone looking to hire a criminal.
Despite the words she’d just given to the suspicious bouncer, Whitney did not actually want to hire a criminal. She just wanted to study one. Or a few. Up close.
It was her job, after all. She was a psychologist, and her major area of focus was criminal behavior. She needed to understand the criminal mind. Needed to learn as much as she could and—
“I’ve got just the guy for you,” the bouncer surprised her by saying.
“What? You—you do?” Excitement pumped through her blood. Yes.
“Uh, huh.” He rose from the stool. “Follow me.”
She scrambled to keep up with him. “You’re just leaving your post? Is that all right? Your boss won’t get angry?” She didn’t want him to get in trouble because he was helping her.
The bar was packed. Music blared. And excitement had her whole body shaking. She’d planned for this immersive experience for weeks. To actually be in Ramsey’s had surges of nervous energy pumping through her.
“Oh, I don’t think the boss will be angry with me at all.”
She barely heard his words because a large, hulking figure had loomed in her path. Whitney quickly side-stepped that figure, only to draw up short when she realized the bouncer had stopped. He stood next to a man with thick, black hair. A man who wore an absolutely ancient-looking jacket.
“Got someone for you to meet,” the bouncer drawled. “A lady looking to hire someone to do some special kind of work.”
Her stomach twisted in knots. She’d done her research ever so carefully. Now this, this was finally it. It was one thing to just do research from the safety and comfort of her office. It was quite another to be in the field and get first-hand exposure. And it had been far too long since she’d journeyed into the field. Definitely time to get busy again.
The man at the bar slowly turned toward her, and every single bit of breath seemed to leave her in a whoosh. Whitney could not look away from the darkest, deepest eyes she’d ever seen in her life.
The noise around her seemed to mute as her heart launched into a triple-time rhythm. The man before her was dangerous. The waves of danger seemed to roll off him. He was also drop-dead gorgeous. His head tilted as he studied her, and he lifted a shot glass to his sexy mouth. His hand gripped the glass easily, and he drained the clear liquid in one gulp. Tats covered both of his hands. Swirling, fierce tats.
He put the glass down with a soft clink.
His gaze swept over her. Slowly. The bouncer had studied her, too, but this man’s gaze was different. It felt different. It felt like he was undressing her.
And she should have been completely pissed off.
She had never in her life been attracted to dangerous men. She studied those sorts of men. Wrote research papers on them. Lectured on them to her students at the college. She didn’t feel attraction to men like that. She certainly did not sleep with men like that.
Whitney had a rule. When it came to her personal life, she preferred nice, safe men.
One look at the stranger, and she knew there was nothing nice or safe about him.
“So…I’ll just leave you to business.” The bouncer. She’d almost forgotten he was there. “Have fun.” He sauntered away.
The stranger kept staring at her. At least his gaze had returned to her face. That was something. And her breathing was semi-normal again. That was something else.
He quirked one brow at her. “You gonna stand there or you gonna hop up on the stool and have a drink with me?”
She liked his voice. She should not have liked his voice because she wasn’t there to get drawn to some dangerous man. But his voice was low and rumbling and sexy. The kind of voice that would whisper to a woman in the dark and—
Nope. Stop it. Focus. You are a professional.
She’d never, ever had a reaction like this to someone she had just met. What in the world was wrong with her?
He leaned forward and patted the stool next to him. “I promise, I won’t bite.”
“Well, of course not,” she rushed to say as she hopped up on that stool. “I certainly didn’t think—”
“Unless you want me to bite. I mean, if you’re into that.” He gave her a slow, sensual smile. “Not quite sure what you’re paying me to do yet. Is it to fuck you? Is that what you want? You came in, and you’re looking for a guy to—”
“No!” Heat burned through her cheeks. This was so wrong. She grabbed his arm. Hello, muscles. “I am most certainly not here to hire someone to—to—”
“To fuck you?”
“Yes, that. Thank you.”
He laughed. “Too bad. For you, I would have offered a discounted rate.” He winked.
Her flush got worse. She yanked her hand away from his muscled arm and gave herself a quick fan with a flutter of her fingers. “It’s rather warm in here, isn’t it?”
“Not particularly.” His tattooed fingers drummed on the bar.
Trying to be casual, Whitney slid her hand into her purse and pulled out the four twenties she’d prepared. Then she inched that money toward his drumming fingers.
His eyebrows lifted. “What in the hell is that?”
“Eighty dollars. Eighty dollars is worth an hour of your time, isn’t it?” Surely it would—