Chapter 2

14 Months Earlier...

I step into my superior’s office, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a sterile glow across the room. “You wanted to see me, sir?” I ask, keeping my tone professional despite the pulse of curiosity in my chest.

“Yes, Landon,” SAC(Special Agent in Charge) Price says, practically vibrating with excitement. “I think we’ve finally figured out how to take down Diego Fuentes.”

I blink, surprised. Fuentes has been a ghost for years—untouchable, untraceable, mythic. “Really? What’s the plan?”

He leans forward, eyes gleaming. “We’re launching a covert operation. We’ll send someone in to catch his eye—get close, earn his trust, and gather intel from the inside.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re sending in a woman? That’s risky. Fuentes is a ruthless killer.”

Price lifts a hand, cutting me off. “We have reason to believe Fuentes prefers men. So, it’ll be a male agent.”

I don’t hesitate. “Let me go.”

He studies me for a beat, then nods. “You’re one of our top candidates. I’ll let you know in a couple of days.”

I nod, pulse quickening. “Understood, sir. I’ll be ready.”

He waves me off, and I turn to leave, already calculating the angles.

To introduce myself: I’m Landon James. Twenty-eight. Six feet tall. Lean but muscular. Dark blonde hair, amber eyes. I’m a DEA Senior Special Agent—seven years in, and the youngest in our Texas branch. I’ve earned my stripes through relentless work and high-stakes busts. I’m good at what I do.

I’m also gay, though most of my colleagues don’t know. Price does, which is why I’m even being considered for this op. If intimacy is part of the mission, I’m the logical choice.

I head down the hall to my office, shut the door, and close the blinds. The quiet settles around me like a cloak. I sink into my chair and exhale. Fuentes has been on our radar for years, but he’s always slipped through the cracks—too smart, too insulated, too dangerous.

Whoever cracks this case will make history.

I pull out the file I’ve been building on him. His photo stares back at me—light brown eyes flecked with gold and green, a gaze that seems to look through the lens and straight into you. I trace the image with my finger, a strange pull tightening in my chest.

Something hooked me the moment I saw him. And not just for the job.

He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Dark brown hair, nearly black. Thick brows, aristocratic nose, full lips that belong on a runway. His lashes are longer than any man’s should be. I skim his stats: six-foot-four, 275 pounds. Born October 31, 1989. He’ll be thirty-six this year. Older than I usually go for, but he’s an exception.

I flip through the rest of the file—surveillance notes, club locations, suspected shipments—but my eyes keep drifting back to his photo. There’s something magnetic about him. Dangerous, yes. But also… alluring.

A knock jolts me from my thoughts. “Come in,” I call.

Dale—pretty sure that’s his name—pokes his head in. “Price wants you. Now.”

“Thanks,” I say, standing and stashing the file in my drawer.

I head to Price’s office and knock. “Come in,” he says gruffly.

Inside, two other men sit across from him. Price gestures to the empty chair. “Have a seat. This is SAC Bryant and SAC Jones. They’ll be overseeing the operation with me.”

He looks me dead in the eye. “We’ve made our selection. You’re it. Given your looks and your, uh… sexual proclivities.”

I suppress a smirk. Sexual proclivities. What a charming euphemism.

“When does this start?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.

Price glances at the others, then back at me. “Tomorrow.”

I blink. “Tomorrow?”

“We want to move fast. You’ll go to his club tomorrow night. Get on his radar.”

“That’s fast. No prep?” I raise a brow. “I mean, I like to get fucked, but that doesn’t mean I like it when it hurts.”

Price doesn’t react.

I grin. “Kidding. I like a little pain.” I hold up my fingers to show how little.

He fights back a smile.

“I’ve got this,” I say. “Just give Landon James a criminal background. I’ll use my real name—hide everything else.”

Price nods. “You’ll be going in blind. No backup. Be ready for anything.”

“Backup’s overrated,” I say. “I’ve got this.”

Back in my office, I shut the door and lean against it, the weight of what’s coming pressing into me. Tomorrow, I’ll walk into Diego Fuentes’s world. I’ll need to stand out. I won’t be the first to try to catch his eye. I just hope I live long enough to succeed.

I glance down at the bulge in my slacks. My body’s already reacting to the thought of meeting him face to face.

I exhale sharply. Now’s not the time to get worked up. I sit at my desk and rest my head on the surface.

I close my eyes, and Diego’s image flashes in my mind—so vivid it’s like he’s standing right in front of me. I sit up and laugh. Patience. He’ll be in front of me soon enough.

I adjust myself, giving my dick a firm squeeze before letting go. Soon, he’ll be touching me. A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine his hands on me, coaxing me to the edge. I nearly come just picturing it.

I stand. I need to move. Coffee will help.

I take the elevator to the café downstairs. The line’s short. I ordered an iced Americano with a splash of cream. Once it’s ready, I head outside and sit on a bench in front of the building. The air is warm, the sun beginning to dip low in the sky.

I stare into the distance, thinking about what will happen when the lies unravel, when the truth hits.

Will I betray my job?

Or Diego?

I take a sip of my coffee, letting the bitterness settle on my tongue. The caffeine sharpens my thoughts, but it doesn’t quiet the storm inside me. I’ve done undercover work before—played roles, worn masks, seduced targets. But this feels different. This time, I’m walking into a lion’s den with no backup, no safety net—just my body, my instincts, and a name that isn’t even a fake one.

I glance down at my phone—no new messages. No updates. Just silence.

This op is happening.

Tomorrow, everything changes.

I’ll walk into his club, dressed to kill, hoping he sees me. Hoping he wants me. Hoping I can play the part long enough to earn his trust—and maybe, if I’m lucky, his secrets.

But what if he sees through me? What if he senses the lie before I even speak?

I shake the thought away.

I’ve trained for this. I’ve studied Diego Fuentes. I know how he moves, how he talks, how he watches people. I know what he likes. I know how to become what he wants.

Still, the risk is real. Fuentes doesn’t just kill enemies. He makes examples out of them. Torture. Dismemberment. Disappearances. His reputation isn’t just myth—it’s documented fact.

And yet, I’m drawn to him, not just as a target.

As a man.

I finish my coffee and toss the cup into the bin. The sun is setting now, casting long shadows across the pavement. I head back inside, riding the elevator in silence. Back in my office, I sit at my desk and open the drawer again. I pull out the file and flip to the photo.

His eyes stare back at me.

I touch the image again, this time more slowly. My fingers linger on Diego’s lips.

I wonder what they feel like, what he tastes like. How long will I last before the line between duty and desire disappears completely?

I close the file and slide it back into the drawer.

Tomorrow, I meet Diego Fuentes.

And tomorrow, I begin the most dangerous performance of my life.