Girl Undercover - Duplicity: Girl Undercover

Chapter 1

Okay, get ready, Gabi. This time you will make the bastard your client.

I spotted an empty table located at the edge of the cafeteria that gave me a great view of the health club elevators. Perfect. Plopping down on one of the surrounding chairs, I pulled out the six-pack abs book from my tote bag. I placed it on the table and pretended to read. All I had to do now was wait for Felipe Cardoza to arrive. If he stuck to his usual schedule, he should appear in the next fifteen minutes or so.

It took almost half an hour before he emerged from one of the elevators, wearing dark slacks and a dress shirt. As always, he walked like a drunken cowboy, swaying sideways with each bowlegged step.

I didn’t feel good about stealing clients from my coworkers, but it was a necessary evil. Besides, if Vera, his current trainer, knew that this particular client was really a covert drug lord known for his barbarian treatment of any person rubbing him the wrong way, she’d surely forgive me.

My heart pounding with excitement, I closed the big book and smoothed out imaginary wrinkles on my stretchy trainer’s top. Cardoza checked in at the front desk and headed toward the locker rooms; within a few seconds, he would pass my table. I took a deep breath, pretending like I was busy grabbing my bag. Right as Cardoza was about to walk by, I picked up the book and acted as if it slipped out of my hand. It landed on the floor with a loud smack, a couple of feet in front of him.

A smile threatened to betray my satisfaction. The book’s front cover was positioned at an angle that allowed Cardoza a perfect view of it. He did a subtle dance to avoid tripping over the heavy tome before coming to a complete halt.

I flew to my feet, my hand partly covering my mouth. Oh, my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that, I said in my fake Swedish accent. I bent to retrieve the book, but Cardoza beat me to it, just as I had hoped. Instead of handing it back to me, he stared at the front cover that said:

HOW TO GET A SIX PACK FAST—GET RIPPED ABS WITHOUT DIETING.

Beneath those words was a picture of a man with washboard abs, just the kind I’d overheard Cardoza telling Vera he wanted several times while they worked out.

He looked at me. Is this a good book? His raspy voice was heavily tinged with a Spanish accent.

I smiled at him. Yes. It’s part of a course on abdominals that I’m taking.

You take a course on stomach?

Yes, as you know I’m one of the trainers at the club. A lot of people want great abs.

He nodded morosely. Yes, I do too. You good with abs?

I did my best to look modest. If I may say so myself, yes, I am. I’m the only one taking this abs certification out of all the trainers here. Which was true because this certification only existed in my mind. But Cardoza would never know that. "I only have a couple more days of studying to do and then I’ll be Nikkei’s master of abs. Well, mistress of abs, I suppose."

Really? he said, looking hopeful. He patted his big stomach that hung like dough rising over his pants, completely hiding whatever belt he might be wearing. You could get rid of this?

Of course. As long as you work with me and do whatever I tell you to do, it’ll be gone in a month. And in another month, you’ll look like the guy here. I pointed at the ripped-abs guy on the cover. But you already have a trainer, don’t you? I think I’ve seen you on the floor with Vera.

Yes, Vera is my trainer. But maybe I need one more like you. An expert in six pack.

I made my voice innocent. How long have you guys trained together? I was well aware that they’d been training since I got hired at Nikkei Sports Club almost four months ago.

Long time, he replied. She is very good, but maybe it’s time for a change. He pursed his lips and nodded to himself. Yes, maybe it’s time for a change...

Felipe! A man’s deep voice cut through the din of the cafeteria. Both Cardoza and I turned to see who it was. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark suit over a crisp, white shirt strode toward us. His tan face was tight as he fixed Cardoza with his gaze.

He stopped in front of Cardoza and raked a big hand through his cropped, brown hair, messing it up a little. Up close, I saw just how handsome he was with his defined cheekbones, strong jaw, and slightly cleft chin. He had bluish-green eyes with lots of golden flecks thrown in. I couldn’t stop looking at him. Cardoza couldn’t either, but hardly for the same reason as me.

What’s goin’ on? Cardoza asked in an undertone, instantly stiff.

I just found out. They can’t make tomorrow after all. Unlike Cardoza, the stranger spoke with an American accent. We need to head over there.

Cardoza stared at him, his moon-shaped face immobile except for his flaring nostrils. No me digas...

Unfortunately, that’s what’s going on, the brown-haired man said. While Cardoza seemed deep in thought, the stranger turned in my direction. He raised his chin and looked at me as though trying to see into my mind, his face completely free of emotion.

Is he on to me? I wondered, feeling how the hair at the back of my neck stiffened. No, of course he wasn’t. He didn’t even know me. It was just my nerves screwing with me again.

Okay, let’s go, Cardoza said and handed me back my book. Your book.

With that, both he and his friend were on their way out of the club.

I remained in place, looking after them as they disappeared into one of the elevators that would take them to the club’s lobby. Only when my smartphone announced that I had a new text did I awake from my daze. Goddammit. And I was so close... If only that guy—whoever the hell he was—hadn’t appeared, I would have had Cardoza right where I wanted him. Now, based on my luck so far, he’d completely forget about our conversation and I’d have to come up with another, non-obvious way to approach him. I was seriously running out of ideas.

I was so frustrated I wanted to stomp my foot like an upset five-year-old, but that would be a boneheaded move considering all the people around me. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself instead and checked my phone to see who’d texted me. It was my next client who informed me that he’d arrive late for his session.

I tried to think of what else I could do to get Cardoza in my clutches only to conclude that I’d better do it later, when I was more relaxed. Who was the stranger anyway? One of Cardoza’s soldiers? It sure seemed like it. I wondered if he was a member at the health club or just a guest. To find out, all I needed to do was ask the front desk people about him. If I did it now, they should remember him. I hurried over to them.

Hey, Frasier, I said to the wavy-haired, slender guy in the well-pressed shirt and pants. He had just finished checking in a member.

As cheerful as always, he turned to me and called me by the name I was using for this undercover operation. Hi, Annika. What can I do for you?

I leaned toward him and whispered, Can you check a member for me? A guy who just came and left. I need his name. I think he wants a trainer.

Sure thing. He opened the page on his computer that featured photos of recently checked-in members. Frasier was the best, always cooperative and discreet, never asking any unnecessary questions. Making sure I had a good view of the screen, he scrolled through all the photos. Anyone look like him? he asked.

There, stop! I said a little too loudly. I threw a glance over my shoulder to check if anyone paid attention to what we were doing. We were in the clear.

That guy? Frasier asked and pointed to the stranger’s face.

Yes. What’s his name?

Paul Medina. I remember him. He signed up two days ago. Frasier looked at me, bright-faced. You need his number?

No, no, I just wanted to know if he was a member and now I know. Thanks a lot, Frasier. Gotta run. I flashed him a smile and took off. As soon as I was out of sight, the smile on my lips faded away. I walked into the elevator that would take me to the giant health club’s sixth floor where I could call Mulligan, my handler at the NYPD, without being overheard and report what had just happened. He might know who Paul Medina was.

I walked out onto the empty sundeck and sat down on one of the lounge chairs. Then I found my smartphone in my purse and speed-dialed Mulligan. He picked up on the second ring.

Longoria, he said by way of greeting. What’s cookin’?

"I was so close to getting Cardoza to train with me, but right as I was about to seal the deal, this dude comes up and interrupts us about something that didn’t work out. ‘They can’t make tomorrow after all’ were his exact words and Cardoza definitely didn’t like that. They had to go somewhere to take care of it. So they left."

Really? Does this man seem like he works with Cardoza?

Yes. His name’s Paul Medina. You heard of him?

Yeah, I’ve heard of him. He’s just one of Cardoza’s soldiers. One of his main guys who also acts as his bodyguard at times, I believe. He a member of the club?

Yes.

I see. There was a moment of silence. Gabi.

Uh-oh. This was not good. I’d come to learn that whenever Mulligan used my first name, some serious shit was going down. Yeah? I replied.

Nicholson has given you one more week. If you haven’t become Cardoza’s trainer by then, they’ll take you off the case.

Really? I could hardly believe what I was hearing. How was I going to make that happen? I couldn’t just go up to Cardoza and tell him we had to train together. Things like that took time. I had to be very subtle in my approach. The last thing I wanted was to raise any suspicions in his mind, or I might end up like the last undercover person who’d tried to nail him—cooked to death while stuffed in a 55-gallon drum filled with gasoline. Needless to say, it was something I wanted to avoid. I couldn’t just assume that Cardoza would forget our interaction today, which was why I needed to wait and see if he approached me to train. Who knew how long that might take? Given that it had taken me almost two months before I could get him to even speak to me—he wasn’t exactly a friendly man—it was bound to take longer than a week.

I’m sorry, Longoria, Mulligan said. I know how much this case means to you, but my hands are tied. To tell you the truth, he wanted to send you home right away, but Brady and I convinced him to give you the extra time.

Okay. I understand. Thanks for sticking up for me, sir.

Soon after that we disconnected.

Leaning back against the lounge chair, I placed the phone on my belly and closed my eyes. So Nicholson might get his way after all then, I thought. The FBI deputy director had been against letting a rookie cop like me with so little street experience take such a dangerous, not to mention difficult undercover job. But Captain Brady at my station back in Los Angeles—who happened to be Mulligan’s cousin—had vouched for me, saying I had what it takes to succeed at this case. Out of the six female cops that had been considered across the country, I’d been selected. The fact that I had a background as a fitness trainer had clinched the deal.

I sighed heavily. If I didn’t nail Cardoza, I could not only say goodbye to being promoted to detective any time soon, but I would make my captain look really bad. He’d gone out on a limb for me to get this extraordinary gig and didn’t deserve to suffer because I’d proven to be incompetent after all. Even worse, the elusive drug lord would continue to destroy the lives of thousands of people, directly or indirectly, through his massive coke dealings. He had to be stopped once and for all.

I could only pray that Felipe would remember our conversation and approach me in the next few days.

Chapter 2

Vera came down the stairs from Nikkei’s fifth floor, wearing a pair of hot pants and a workout top so tiny I thought she wore a bikini at first. Her honey blonde hair was teased big and her face was covered with so much makeup she looked more like a cast member on a reality TV show set in New Jersey than a trainer at Manhattan’s most exclusive health club. Especially since she insisted on using a spray tan that made her look like a human Cheez Doodle. I was surprised that management let her parade around almost naked like that, even though she was at the club on her personal time. Nikkei was not supposed to be that kind of a place.

She passed me and a couple of the other female trainers, chin high, staring straight ahead as though she had no idea her coworkers were standing right there. But instead of appearing like she couldn’t care less about what anyone thought of her provocative outfit, she only succeeded in once again proving just how uncomfortable she was in her own skin.

Lily, an Asian trainer almost twice Vera’s age, looked at the trainer beside her and snorted. "Wow. That’s all I have to say. Wow."

I know, the other trainer, a cute black girl named Yanita, said. "You’d think she’d be freezing. I’m wearing two shirts and I’m freezing." Besides the long-sleeved Nikkei top all the trainers were required to wear while on duty, Yanita also wore full-length black pants. Plain black pants, tights, or shorts were the other part of our uniform.

We really should talk to Joanne about this, Lily said. She’s giving the rest of us a bad name, walking around like that.

Uh-huh. Yanita nodded. My female clients hate her.

I wanted to say that I had one that did, too, but I didn’t have time to get involved in this conversation. The opportunity I was waiting for had presented itself—I was going to cozy up to Vera and convince her to move to L.A. and work for Dante, a gym owner and good friend of mine. His recently opened boutique gym in Malibu was already very successful with several celebrity members. I had come to the conclusion that I had to do something drastic if I wanted to become Cardoza’s trainer before my time was up. I’d asked Dante to offer Vera a job as one of his trainers—with a $5,000 signing bonus that would come out of my own pockets. While Dante wasn’t family, I trusted him like he was my own brother. An ex-gang member familiar with the criminal underworld, he was well aware of the risk I was taking and so would keep his mouth closed.

I had a feeling Vera would jump at the opportunity I was about to give her. She often complained about how much she hated the winters in NYC and how she would love to live in sunny, warm California instead. Well, here was her chance. When she later found out who Cardoza really was, she’d be even happier that I’d gotten her to move to L.A. The man posing as a successful real estate developer was on the FBI’s most wanted list, the brutal kingpin of a billion-dollar drug ring that distributed cocaine to all major U.S. cities. In addition to cooking rats alive, Felipe Cardoza was known to have a penchant for cutting off various body parts of people who got in his way, or threatened to do so. People like me. He wasn’t someone normal folks should be near in any way. Given their close relationship and the fact that Vera liked to party as much as Felipe did, it was only a matter of time until he got her hooked on coke—if he hadn’t already. She looked awfully skinny lately.

I made my way to the other side of the club’s vast fourth floor, the direction in which Vera had disappeared. The area seemed to be her favorite workout space. She was standing in front of one of the mirror-covered walls, doing overhead presses with dumbbells while carefully watching her form in the mirror.

There was no one else on this part of the gym floor except an old man doing floor exercises on the stretching mat several yards away from us. Good. The fewer people around that overheard the proposition I was about to make Vera, the better. I sucked in a discreet breath and walked up to her.

Hi, Vera, I said and gave her my friendliest smile.

She gave me a cool look and muttered, Hey...

Hey, you love California and the beach, right?

Vera instantly brightened, and there was suddenly a dreamy look in her eyes. "Yeah, I love California. I so wish I was there right now. She grimaced and sighed. I can’t stand this cold."

I agree with you. February in this city sucks. I smirked to emphasize just how much I really thought so. "What sucks worse is that I could be in California right now. I have a friend in Malibu who owns this exclusive gym. I just got an email from him telling me that he desperately needs more female trainers and asked if I was interested. He’ll give me a $5,000 signing bonus if I can start next week. Can you believe it?"

Vera’s mouth dropped open. Really? Wow. 5,000 bucks? That’s a lot of money.

I nodded. I know. I’m so pissed that I can’t go.

Why can’t you go?

My sister’s coming for an extended visit, so I’ve gotta stay here for a few more months at least. She’s going through a rough time and can’t be alone. I expelled a breath. And I feel bad for my friend, too, since he really, really needs good trainers to join his team. Apparently, everyone wants to train at his place. I gave her a look as if a great idea had suddenly popped into my head. "Hey, why don’t you go...? You’re a good trainer and female. My friend would love you." I smiled knowingly.

Vera struggled to look like she was hesitant, but I could already tell that she’d made up her mind. How much does your friend pay per hour?

He’ll pay you sixty bucks an hour and he’ll make sure you have more clients than you can handle. He’s generous to a fault, but that’s only because he used to be a trainer himself before he opened his place, so he wants to pay his staff well.

Wow, that’s a very good hourly pay... Is that in addition to the bonus? Her eyes were shining with excitement.

Yeah, the bonus is separate. I’d planned to tell Vera that Dante would even supply her with an apartment—my old one—just to get her to go to California, but clearly it wasn’t needed. The girl was already sold. Thank God. Handing over the 5,000 bucks—pretty much all I had in my savings account—would hurt bad enough.

I want to go, she said, looking more alive than I could remember having ever seen her. When do I need to be there?

He’d need you to be there on Monday. That’s why he’s offering such a generous bonus. Could you be there then?

Vera screwed up her face. This Monday? That’s only five days from now.

Well, again, he really, really needs a good, attractive female trainer to be there by then. And he’ll pay your flight there. Should I put you in contact with him?

He’ll pay my flight, too? She bit her lip. I don’t think I can say no to that... Let me give you my number.

We exchanged phone numbers on our smartphones.

Great, I said. He’ll be calling you tonight.

Awesome, Vera said. Thanks a lot, Annika.

No, thank you, I replied. I was about to ask her if I could take over her client list, but at the last minute I decided not to. That might make her suspicious. Instead, after she’d spoken to Dante, I’d simply hint that I could use a few more clients. That should prompt her to offer me to take over her clients without me actually spelling it out.

Suddenly Vera squealed like someone had stuck a needle into her. When she turned around and ran up to a brown-haired, well-built guy, I realized that it hadn’t been a scream of pain but of pleasure. It took me only a second to see who he was—Paul Medina. She must have spotted him in the mirror as he walked by behind us.

I gritted my teeth. He again? Why did he always manage to drop by and mess up my plans? Well, there was nothing I could do but to act like everything was just great. Probably I had nothing to worry about anyway; surely Vera wouldn’t change her mind, even if her behavior at the moment might suggest otherwise.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vera’s petite body disappear into Medina’s tan, muscular arms. He looked even better in workout clothes than he did in his suit, not something a lot of men could pull off. He had the build of a quarterback, but because of his height, he didn’t appear overly muscular. I also noticed that he must be younger than I’d initially thought, no more than maybe twenty-eight, four years older than me.

I picked up a pair of weights from the dumbbell tower next to me. Not knowing what else to do, I placed the weights on my shoulders and started doing lunges. I tried my best to watch my form in the mirrored wall, but it didn’t take long until my gaze returned to Medina and Vera, both perfectly visible in the mirror before me. Her arms were still around him, while his had loosened so their bodies weren’t quite as close together. She kept chattering away while insisting on trying to attach herself like a sticker to him.

Hmm. The longer they stood there, clinched like two boxers of vastly different weight classes, the more it dawned on me—these two must have something going on between them. Or maybe Vera was trying to get something going with this guy. That sure would explain why she’d been so happy to see him.

For some reason, the idea of them being an item annoyed me. I shook my head, forcing the thought out of my brain. What did I care? I shouldn’t worry about who this thug was dating. I should focus on digging up enough information on the extremely well-hidden drug operations Cardoza headed so the government could take him and his organization down once and for all.

Right as I was about to remove my eyes from them, Medina looked straight at me via the mirrored wall, taking me in from head to toe. His intense gaze felt like flames licking my skin, making me squirm inside.

Before he returned his attention to what Vera was telling him, he winked at me. Or at least so I thought. I couldn’t be entirely sure given the many mirrors and all the fluorescent light bars in the ceiling that sometimes played tricks with my vision.

What I did know for sure, however, was that Vera had completely forgotten about me. That’s okay, I told myself. I’d text her later and remind her that Dante would be calling her. Hopefully her behavior was only due to the effect Medina had on her. I supposed it could be forgiven. Thug or not, the dude was after all sexy as hell.

***

The following day I was in the trainer’s lounge, struggling to put my long, platinum-blonde hair into a somewhat smooth ponytail. Because I’d had my wavy, caramel brown hair heavily bleached and straightened during my transformation from American cop to Swedish trainer, this wasn’t always easy. My hair was no longer soft and pliable but stiff and tended to stick together.

Today it didn’t bother me very much, however. I was in a great mood. Dante had texted me this morning and told me he’d spoken with Vera; they were all set for her to go to L.A. next Monday. It was already four o’clock and I had yet to hear from her telling me she had accepted his offer like she was supposed to do, but I wasn’t worried. Dante wouldn’t have told me he’d bought her a ticket unless he was certain she was coming.

Burt, a black trainer in his early thirties who was also a drummer in a rock band, walked into the lounge. While handsome in his own right, his attractiveness increased many times over because of his gregarious, kind-hearted personality, making him a sought-after trainer at the club. At the sight of me, his dark face split in a wide grin. Hey, Annika!

I returned his infectious smile. Hi, Burt! How are you doing? Any record deals yet?

He plunked down on one of the cheap lounge chairs and pulled off his neon-yellow sneakers. Nah. But when the band gets the website up and we can properly present ourselves, they’ll be comin’! He wiggled his toes. Did you hear Vera’s in the hospital?

I dropped the brush I held, and it landed with a loud clank on the linoleum floor. I swiveled around and stared at him.

Is that a joke? None of that sing-songy, formal way in which I’d learned to speak to appear authentically Swedish had been audible in those words.

Burt’s snake-like eyes—a color and style he’d achieved using contact lenses—got bigger. No, of course not. She fell down the stairs and broke her ankle and wrist this morning.

Oh, my God! I was sincerely shocked. How did she manage to do that?

Burt rubbed his feet. I’m not sure. I think she just tripped.

I shook my head, still not quite sure I believed him. Wow... Will she be okay?

Yeah, seems like it. From what I heard, the club will pay all her hospital bills and compensate her whatever she’d be making until she can get back to work again. It’ll probably take months.

I nodded. Thank God the club’s helping her with the bills. Wow... I wonder what will happen to all her clients. She has a lot of them.

Yeah, she does. He shrugged his shoulders. I guess management will disseminate them. It’ll be hard for her to try to match them up on her own in her condition. She’s probably in a lot of pain right now.

Yeah, that’s true. Poor thing. I bunched up my hair in a bun at the nape of my neck and quickly pulled out a few strands to frame my face. As bad as I felt for Vera, her accident had nonetheless provided me with an opportunity. It would be stupid not to take advantage of it, and I’d better hurry up. If I played my cards right, Felipe would be my client tomorrow morning.

Chapter 3

I ran up the stairs to the club’s fourth floor as fast as I could, heading for the employee computers. All I needed to do now was find Cardoza’s phone number in the club’s system, call him and tell him I’d been assigned to train him before someone from the fitness office reached him, suggesting another trainer. Since he’d already said he would want to train with me anyway, he wasn’t likely to protest.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t plead directly with Joanne, my fitness manager, to assign me Cardoza. I’d already hinted more than once that I was a more appropriate trainer than Vera for him based on my experience and education.