Illicit (The Agents), page 1
ILLICIT
THE AGENTS
BRYNNE ASHER
Text Copyright
© 2024 Brynne Asher
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. It is not legal to scan any part of this work into artificial intelligence. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s rights. Only purchase authorized editions.
Any resemblance to actual persons, things, locations, or events is accidental.
This book is a work of fiction.
ILLICIT
The Agents
Published by Brynne Asher
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Edited by Hadley Finn
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ALSO BY BRYNNE ASHER
The Agents
Possession
Tapped
Exposed
Illicit
Winslet
Winslet
Killers Series
Vines – A Killers Novel, Book 1
Paths – A Killers Novel, Book 2
Gifts – A Killers Novel, Book 3
Veils – A Killers Novel, Book 4
Scars – A Killers Novel, Book 5
Souls – A Killers Novel, Book 6
Until the Tequila – A Killers Crossover Novella
The Killers, The Next Generation
Levi, Asa’s son
The Carpino Series
Overflow – The Carpino Series, Book 1
Beautiful Life – The Carpino Series, Book 2
Athica Lane – The Carpino Series, Book 3
Until Avery – A Carpino Series Crossover Novella
Force of Nature - A Carpino Christmas Novel
The Dillon Sisters
Deathly by Brynne Asher
Damaged by Layla Frost
The Montgomery Series
Bad Situation – The Montgomery Series, Book 1
Broken Halo – The Montgomery Series, Book 2
Betrayed Love - The Montgomery Series, Book 3
Standalones
Blackburn
CONTENTS
1. Illegal Versus Illicit
2. Pipe Dream
3. Deal
4. Cussing
5. Governmenty
6. Panties
7. Get Over Myself
8. Fictionally Fucked
9. Control
10. Vagina Stats
11. Goth Girlfriend
12. Good Grovel
13. Hang Meat
14. At Least Three Fucks
15. The Secret
16. By Blood
17. Orgasm Terms
18. Jealous of My Toes
19. Ghost
20. You’ll Pay
21. Before the Obsession
22. A Watermelon and A Bagel
23. Teach Me
24. Emotional Diatribe
25. Figurative Orgasm
26. Under Duress
27. Unbridled
28. Bloody Chuffed and Badass Shit
29. Messier
30. Fairytale
31. Boy
32. Hell
33. I See Myself
34. Normal
35. Russian Roulette
Epilogue
Also by Brynne Asher
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Read a Sample of Vines by Brynne Asher
This book is dedicated to found family.
1
ILLEGAL VERSUS ILLICIT
Rocco
It never fails.
I can’t not see it.
Me.
In someone else’s skin.
But not really me.
The me that could’ve been.
The me that, without a doubt, would have been had I not been dragged out of the life I was born into.
Every time I’m like this—working a case, sitting surveillance, or hearing the metal click around wrists when I make an arrest—I see it.
Because every path I was on led me to be on the other side of the law than where I currently sit.
“Dude, are you even paying attention?”
I look over at Taylor. “When will you get it through your head that I’m not a skater. Do not dude me.”
Taylor is not a skater, but he was a snowboarder in his previous life before joining the DEA. That’s close enough to a skater in my book. If I didn’t know he was an agent, I’d think he was a target. He’s been in New Orleans longer than me. He’s originally from Vermont, which makes him more of a fish out of water than me in The Big Easy.
But we’re both fish out of water in our current surroundings—him because he looks like he could shred a half-pipe at a moment’s notice, and me, because I don’t belong anywhere posh no matter how I look.
The Hotel Monteleone.
One of the most historic spots in the French Quarter.
But if there’s anything I’ve learned in my three years working for the DEA in New Orleans, no place is off limits when it comes to drugs, crime, or filth.
And this proves it.
Filth is everywhere.
“I’ll dude you all day long. Fuck, man, I know you have one foot out the door, but you might as well be checked out. Jules Robichaux just entered the building. Get your shit straight, or I’ll go in myself.”
“No offense, Taylor, but if you walk into the bar of The Hotel Monteleone you’ll attract more attention than Robichaux.”
I slide my cell into my pocket and turn back to the monitors focused on the Carousel Bar and Lounge.
Jules Robichaux has been on my radar for over a year. His name comes up from time to time in my cases, but that’s it. I have nothing solid to prove he’s doing anything wrong other than having shit friends. But when a guy associates with distributors, dealers, and pimps on the regular, it puts him under the microscope.
Hanging with the wrong crowd isn’t against the law. If anyone knows that it’s me. But this guy is popping his head above water in public, and he never makes an appearance. Not like this. He called one of my targets I’m listening to on a wire to let him know he was taking a meeting at the lounge of the Carousel.
Out in the open.
In public.
For all to witness.
Namely … me.
And Taylor is right. I have one foot out the door. I’ve done my time in New Orleans. My transfer back to Miami was approved three months ago. To say my days are numbered in the Big Easy is an understatement. I can count them on one hand. The only reason I’m here is because curiosity runs hot through my veins. I’ve worked on this case for over a year and am about to hand it over to Taylor.
Hell, I don’t need to be here today.
But a rare appearance from Jules Robichaux is enticing. The saying that curiosity killed the cat is spot on, because I’m here instead of back at the office transitioning my cases, or at home trying to get my shit together. Not that I have much to my name, but it is more than I’ve had in my entire twenty-nine years.
“He claimed the booth at the side of the room. Private … ish.” Taylor motions to the monitor where we’re watching from the security room of the Monteleone. Businesses don’t always cooperate, but places like this don’t want drug deals going down in the corners of their establishments. The management was happy to open their security cameras to us, which means I don’t have to mess with warrants. “The booth behind him is open. I’m not sure what you’ll hear, his back will be to you. I’ll have the perfect view of whomever meets him.”
I adjust my duty weapon so it can’t be seen and slip my badge into the breast pocket of my sport coat since I can’t exactly walk into The Carousel to eavesdrop looking like a government agent. “I can’t wait to see who sits down across from him. Between my ears and your eyes, this is an opportunity we’ve never had. We might just learn something about Jules.”
“Hell yeah.” Taylor slaps me on the back like we’re watching a football game. “This is like old-school shit. No warrants. No wires. Just good old investigating. It’s time we outsmart this asshole once and for all.”
Robichaux is no different than the kind of filth I grew up around. My friends are different, my address is a major upgrade, and my closet is from a different universe thanks to the women in my life who enjoy bossing me around.
I might’ve carried a badge for the last six years, but I’ll never forget where I came from. I don’t get outsmarted by people like Robichaux. And when I do arrest people like him, I’ve got to do it by the book.
I exit the surveillance room, move through the back offices of the hotel, and make my way through the lobby.
I’m lucky this meeting didn’t go down in the height of Mardi Gras. The Carousel is busy, but not like that. It’s also four o’clock in the afternoon. It’ll be hopping in a couple hours.
Robichaux took the seat in a booth facing the door. I don’t make contact as I pass him and claim the one behind him. My ass barely hits the seat when a server is at my side and places a cocktail napkin on the low table in front of me. “What can I get you?”
I lift my chin as I pull my cell from my pocket. “I’ll stick with water until my girlfriend arrives. Thank you.”
I don’t touch my drink as I pretend to scroll on my phone. The server moves onto other tables while I pretend to wait for the fictional woman in my life. Hell, there hasn’t been anyone in my life in a long time—not casually and definitely not serious. I’ve given new meaning to throwing myself into work.
I fucking buried myself in it.
Returning to Miami has always been the end goal, even if that goal was put in place by people who think they know what’s best for me. I have more strings at my disposal than most agents in the whole damn DEA, but I’ve refused to pull them. No one gets a transfer before putting in three years. The last thing I want is people whispering behind my back that I’m not pulling my weight.
I’ve done my time and earned my spot.
I’m also more than ready.
A text comes across my screen.
Taylor – His meet might be a no-show.
Me – I’m willing to wait.
Taylor – Wait. He’s got his eyes set on a woman who just entered the bar. This might be it.
A woman.
Not what I expected.
Ty’s next text confirms my thoughts and more.
Taylor – She’s looking around. Fuck. It’s a good thing we’re not profiling. She doesn’t fit the bill as someone who would sit down with Jules. Young and hot as fuck.
Interesting.
Maybe I was wrong about Jules. I thought for sure he was dabbling in distribution, but he might be playing in prostitution instead.
But meeting a prospective girl at The Carousel?
It doesn’t jive.
Taylor – They made eye contact. I think we have a match made in hell. It’s go time.
I pick up my water and take a sip before turning back to my phone when the conversation starts to play out behind me.
“Jules Robichaux?”
I freeze, not seeing anything scrolling across my screen.
Fuck.
“That’s me,” Jules grunts. “You Stella Hayes?”
“Yes, Stella,” the female confirms. “Thank you for meeting me.”
Stella Hayes.
I exhale.
I have no fucking clue what triggered it, but my mind is fucking with me.
I type the name into my phone … not that I’d forget. I have the memory of bad screenshots that live forever and haunt the worst of nightmares.
“I don’t normally take meets like this, but your email caught my eye. You’re five minutes late, by the way. That usually pisses me off. Get to it, cher.”
Interesting. Robichaux’s tone doesn’t match his words. He doesn’t sound at all pissed. He sounds exactly like a man who’s talking about a hot piece, just not to her face.
There’s an awkward pause before the woman clears her throat. “I’m here about my grandfather. I’m trying to find him. One of his last forms of communication was with you.”
I ignore the uncomfortable feeling that settles in my gut as my phone vibrates with a text.
Taylor – What I wouldn’t do to be listening to this play out live. I’d be surprised if this chick is even twenty.
Fuck that. I’d give anything to have eyes on what’s going on. It shouldn’t matter, but I need to see the face that voice is coming from.
“Who’s your pawpaw?” Jules demands.
“Heath. Heath Hayes,” the woman says. “Surely you remember. You and he had a business meeting. We haven’t heard from him since.”
“I know Hayes. How old’re you, cher?” Jules drawls in his deep Cajun accent. “That old man looked old enough to be your great-granddaddy.”
“I’m older than I look. My aunt and I are so worried. My grandfather basically raised me. I’ve read through his emails from you. My aunt and I know he accepted your proposition, got on an international flight, and the last we heard from him was when he touched down in Spain. His itinerary said he was supposed to travel through to Africa, but we have no idea if he got there. We don’t even know why he left to begin with. He’s never traveled outside of the south. I need your help. My family needs to find him.”
There’s nothing I want more in life than to turn around and get a look at the woman who just admitted she’s willing to do anything for fucking Jules Robichaux. And that’s saying something because I want a shit ton out of life.
My blood pumps way too fast for my age, my physique, and my mental well-being.
I need to know who she is.
Hell, I need to know who she isn’t.
My mind is playing tricks on me. This is like a sick fucking joke or cruel and unusual punishment.
This is a nightmare playing out in the light of day.
I glance down at my phone.
Taylor – What the fuck is going on with this woman?
That’s what I’d like to know, but for a much different reason.
“You don’t look like you belong anywhere near old-man Hayes,” Jules mutters. “In fact, you look like you’re from a whole different world.”
I don’t like his tone. My curiosity has taken a big fucking leap off the skyscraper. It’s replaced with an almost undeniable desire to turn around.
I’m plagued with it.
Her voice creeps under my skin as every desperate word pleads with the asshole sitting behind me. “Please, Mr. Robichaux. My grandfather isn’t young or healthy. I have a feeling whatever he did, he did it for me. I can’t handle the guilt if something happens to him. I had no idea what he was doing. He acted before I could stop him.”
“Hayes was desperate. Nothin’ you coulda done woulda stopped that old man.” Jules does nothing to make her feel better, but he does throw her a bone. “But I can look into it for you.”
“You will?” A tinge of hope hangs in the woman’s voice.
Hope with a hint of sincerity.
And…
Familiarity.
“I’ll do anything.” The words rush from her mouth with desperation. “Anything.”
Fuck me. I can’t take it another moment.
I put my fingers to the screen of my phone.
Me – Send me a pic of the woman. I want to see her.
Taylor – You looking for a last-minute New Orleans hookup on your way out of town?
“Anything,” Jules echoes as if he’s tasting the meaning of that word on his tongue. “I might be able to help you for … anything.”
Me – Just fucking do it. Now.
“I’m desperate,” the woman confirms. The tone of her voice causes my skin to defy science as a chill ripples down my spine in the heat of NOLA. “Please.”
Please.
That word slithers into my soul like a ghost at the same time a picture appears on my screen.
A snapshot of the monitor.
The man behind me who just became my number one target for no other reason than he’s leering at the woman sitting across from him. I want to carve his eyes out and throw him into a swamp as the next meal for some lucky gator.
Because what in the actual fuck?
This can’t be happening.
Taylor – What’s wrong?
Me – I’m going in.
Taylor – You’re what?
Me – I don’t know how this is going to go. Be prepared to have my back.
Taylor – We don’t have an op plan. This wasn’t approved. You can’t do this.
Me – Watch me.
I take a gulp of water to calm my nerves, though I’m not sure anything can cool my red-hot anger until I drag her out of this place and maybe tan her ass for even thinking about meeting up with a guy like Robichaux. Hell, I don’t know how she knows of his existence.
But I’m about to find out.
In about two minutes when I have her all to myself, I plan to learn everything.
I unfold from the booth but don’t turn to the patrons behind me. Instead, I take one lap around The Carousel. When I make the final turn, I see in the flesh what Taylor confirmed digitally.
