She didn’t have to ask if such a role would be more dangerous.
Of course it would be.
Eliza didn’t care. “You can mic me and put me right in the path of the worst of them.” She snarled at Jack. “Then you can see what I’m worth to the bureau.”
Oliver nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk with the team and see if that’s a possibility.” He motioned to the door. “Eliza, if you could give me and Jack a minute alone.”
She hesitated, but she had no choice. Fine. She walked out the door and shut it hard behind her. Her throat was dry, so she walked to the office break room and grabbed a water. She didn’t need surveillance equipment to know what was being said about her right now. Jack would explain how Eliza had a crush on him, always trying to kiss him. And how she was too immature and lovestruck to work as an informant—at least with him.
He would look like an FBI expert, and she… she would look like a fool.
She returned and waited down the hall from the office door. By the time Jack came out, Eliza couldn’t look at him or talk to him. He must’ve felt the same way because he walked by without saying a word.
How could she ever have had feelings for him? He was cold and callous without a hint of genuine compassion. His kindness had been nothing more than an act. She met with Oliver Layton then, but only for a few minutes. Just long enough for him to promise he would try to get her undercover at a high school, one where sex traffickers often lured girls to work hotels during major sporting events.
Back at the group home, Eliza forced herself not to think about him. She would never work with Jack Ryder again, no matter what. Every gentle word or tender moment had been another of his lies. For the job, he would tell her if she gave him the chance. But where did that leave her? Didn’t he care about her feelings?
Two days later Oliver worked out the details so she could, indeed, go undercover at one of the toughest high schools in San Antonio. The bureau had decided Eliza’s lack of high school experience wasn’t a problem. The kids she’d be hanging with didn’t have much classroom experience, either.
Eliza couldn’t have been happier.
If she needed training, she would do it. Whatever it took to get out in the field and help catch parasites like her father. The man who had stolen her childhood and nearly sold her into marriage. Her father had taken her childhood and her heart. Emotionally, she was damaged goods, and she always would be. Because her father had taken something else.
He had stolen her ability to ever be attractive to a guy like Jack Ryder.
* * *
THE TRAINING WAS more intense than Eliza had expected. She had never attended a high school, let alone one in the roughest part of a city like San Antonio. Terri and a team of agents worked with her, teaching her how to talk and dress and walk like someone from the east side of the city. This wasn’t a typical high school undercover job, something local police would operate. This was connected to national trafficking rings that preyed on high school girls in certain areas in conjunction with sporting events.
Especially pro sporting events.
“It’ll be hard enough, getting them to believe a messed-up white girl just happened to wind up at their school.” Camille was black, one of the most intelligent and street-savvy agents in the bureau. “You gotta rat your hair and walk with an attitude. Don’t smile. Wear heavy makeup. You’ll talk different and sit different, cocky bad to the core. So they don’t only believe you. They respect you.”
On the inside, Eliza was already that girl. For years she’d seen that behavior modeled by the older girls at the Palace. But she didn’t say that to Camille.
Instead Eliza worked at being even more what the bureau wanted. All day, every day she worked. And on the weekends in her bedroom at the group home she read about high school behavior and successful informants—books Camille had given her. She trained and studied morning to night, stopping to eat and sleep only when she absolutely had no choice.
One Sunday afternoon, Rosa found her in the living room looking over her class schedule, memorizing it. “This work you’re doing… is it dangerous?” The girl looked worried.