spoke casually to him. The only word Cooper caught was “papers.”
The man gave Cooper a licentious stare and then jerked his head toward the restrooms.
“Stay here!” Edward commanded and disappeared with his new acquaintance.
Suddenly stranded beneath the flashing lights, Cooper distanced herself from the nearest speaker and tried to strike a nonchalant pose by leaning against a wall and taking lazy sips of beer. She pretended not to notice an attractive man in his late thirties smiling at her, but her lack of interest didn’t deter him from approaching her.
“Your beer’s almost empty. Can I get you a refill?” he shouted and then added, “My name’s Rich.”
“Nice to meet you!” Cooper replied loudly. “And thanks, but I’m fine. I’m actually waiting for someone!”
“Aren’t we all?” Rich smiled again and Cooper felt herself warming toward the stranger. “I think I saw you two come in. Guess I’m not your type—seeing as you like guys with rough edges.”
Cooper gave the stranger a sideways glance. There was something about him that struck her as incongruous. Like most of the other men in The Flood Zone, Rich was wearing acid-washed jeans and a T-shirt. The males on the dance floor seemed to opt for the colorful silk button-downs Cooper had seen in Miguel’s closet. Those lingering around the fringes—settled at the bar or openly assessing the females closest to them—wore tight T-shirts with a variety of graphic designs. Rich’s shirt was gray and featured a box of Good & Plenty candy on the front. He saw her grin at she stared at it.
“Says it all,” he said cheerfully as the DJ paused the music in order to announce drink specials and future Flood Zone events. “I’d offer to hook you up, but your boy’s probably got you covered.”
Having no idea what Rich was talking about, Cooper murmured in agreement and wished Edward would finish up whatever business he was conducting in the bathroom so she could escape from her neighbor’s penetrating stare.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” she said, deciding to challenge him.
A shadow passed over his face but he recovered quickly. “I keep late hours. You’re probably snug in bed before I even walk through that door.”
Suddenly, Cooper knew why Rich seemed to carry himself as though he were on guard. “You’re a cop, aren’t you?” she asked, and before he could argue, added, “It’s cool. I won’t grab the mic and tell everyone.”
Rich took a step closer. “You seem like a nice young woman. Stay away from the Colonel. I can see he hasn’t roped you in yet, so you can still get out. Go now!” He had to shout again as the frenzied rhythm of music recommenced. “Before he comes back!”
At that moment, Edward emerged from the restroom—sans the tall Hispanic man—and made a beeline for Cooper. Smirking, he walked straight up to the undercover cop and pointed at his shirt. “Nobody calls them that anymore. Get yourself some updated threads, my man.”
Unperturbed, Rich toasted Edward with his empty beer bottle. “Word has it that you’ve cleaned up your act. Working two jobs. Paying your taxes like any other true-blooded American.” He fixed his gaze in the direction of the restrooms. “Maybe you can’t believe everything you hear.”
Edward shrugged and grabbed Cooper’s hand. “Thought you knew that already, dog. How many bad tips have you chased down?”
“A lot!” Rich replied in a good-natured bellow as the music peaked in volume. “But some of them work out, like the one that led me to you! No hard feelings, Colonel?” He held out his hand.
Edward searched the man’s face and then clasped his hand. “I might wanna trade favors with you someday. Off the record. You cool with that?”
Rich rubbed his freshly shaven chin and then winked at Cooper. “Sno-cone cool.”
It was impossible not to like the good-humored officer. Cooper smiled at him before following Edward out of the club.
Edward didn’t speak again until they’d walked several blocks east of The Flood Zone to a public parking lot. He marched up to a white sedan painted with the text After Dark Taxi and below, in smaller letters, 6 p.m—2 a.m. and a phone number.
“Your second job?” she asked, breaking the silence. “And who was that guy back there?”
“A cop.” The usual derisiveness was missing from Edward’s use of the word. “The special drug task force, undercover, pit-bull kind of cop. The guy’s a machine. I don’t think he ever sleeps. He’s like Batman. Shows up outta nowhere and takes no prisoners.”
“Sounds like you