into her. Holding her breath, she stood unmoving beneath his scrutiny. Finally, he spoke. "Come in." He moved forward, extracting a key from his pocket.
With Gabe behind her, she followed muscle man down a long dark corridor.
"I hope you know what you're doing, because we're between the devil and the deep blue sea," Gabe hissed into her ear.
"I hope so, too," she whispered.
Tessa's whispered reply sent adrenaline stinging through Gabe's veins. But instead of a heady, exhilarating rush, anxiety tightened his muscles. He'd let his awareness slip and trapped them in a no-win scenario. If these were the perps he'd been tracking, they'd be suspicious and jumpy. Likely to act first and ask questions later. From the silent, battle-ready way this guy moved, he had martial arts experience and was well-trained, probably ex-military.
Gabe mentally played-out his options. If it went down ugly, Tessa could get hurt. Then again, even if he took the guy out now, she could still get hurt. Not to mention he'd burn his cover and tip off the crooks. Damn!
His fingers gripped the Glock tucked into his waistband. He hesitated. In the short time he'd known her, Houdini had demonstrated a remarkable ability to think on her feet. He'd have to be an idiot to pass up an opportunity to get inside. As they progressed deeper into the bowels of the building, he wrestled with himself. Now or never, Colton, make your move.
His gut said trust her. He released the gun and let his hand drop to his side. Okay, gut, you'd better not be wrong.
The man they were following opened a padded door and switched on the lights. He led them into a silver-blue room with close to a hundred round chrome tables circled by black chairs. A chrome and black bar filled one side.
"I'm Leo Drumm, manager." His steely gaze flicked over Gabe before fixing on Tessa. "What's your name and what do you sing?"
Gabe could see her trembling, but she answered steadily. "Patrice … Aron. One A. And I can sing anything you want."
Gabe bit back a grin. His instinct was still batting a thousand.
Leo gestured at a black baby grand piano on the stage. "I wasn't expecting anybody this early. I don't have an accompanist. Go ahead and sing a cappella."
"I play." She walked to the stage, and sat at the piano.
"Grab a chair, Mr. Manager." Leo waved his hand.
He slipped into his Cousin Val demeanor. "The name's Valentine, Val to you." He sauntered toward the front table.
Leo rolled his eyes. He flipped a chair around and sat with his arms folded across the back edge. "She better be good."
Man, he sure hoped so. "She is."
Tessa glanced at him, her eyes wide. He sent her a silent message. You can do it, honey. Her breasts rose and fell under her brown suit as she drew a shuddery breath. Then she gracefully splayed her fingers and music began to spill out. He recognized the tune as she began to sing. "I Can't Help Falling In Love With You."
Sucker-punched, Gabe sat frozen in his chair. She wasn't good. Her husky, sensuous voice traveled way beyond good. Clear into fantastic. Time suspended as her seductive melody floated out and wrapped around him, weaving right down into his soul. He forgot to breathe.
Fingers snapped under his nose and he jolted, realizing he was sitting in the sudden silence like a poleaxed steer.
Leo drilled him with a curious look. "You okay, pal?"
Unable to locate his voice, Gabe nodded.
Drumm stood. "Lose The King, and you got the job," he called to Tessa. "You start tomorrow night. And do something about those old-lady clothes. If you work here, you gotta be sexy."
Gabe sucked oxygen into his air-starved lungs. Any sexier and he was a dead man. He signed the contract Leo produced, and he and Tessa left.
She held her silence until they reached the car. She flounced into the passenger seat. "I can't believe you agreed I'd start tomorrow night! I'm supposed to have laryngitis! What if someone from work sees me?"
Gabe strode around the car. He slid into the driver's seat. "They won't. You're using your middle name and a phony surname. That reminds me, I need to get you ID and a social security card for Patrice Aron." He twisted the key in the ignition. "With different clothes and your hair down, nobody from the bank is going to recognize the sultry siren on stage."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I am not going to dress