I was officially pissed.

Pacing around in my apartment in my underwear (I had checked I was alone this time), I tried making heads and tails of what had happened.

"Alright, Bob, so here is what we know," I said, glancing at Bob as he swam around in his little fish bowl. "Vince broke into the CIA headquarters and stole some confidential information from us. He transferred it to a USB.

"We couldn't figure out what it was he took because of the millions and millions of files on that supercomputer and because he covered his tracks brilliantly. All we got was the slimmest trace of what kind of USB he used, which then told us it had a built-in GPS.

"Zac managed to hack into the GPS signal when it was activated, which then turned out to be something Vince did on purpose so he'd get caught and so he could get into the CIA headquarters to get... me," I paused up and glanced at Bob. "Don't look at me like that. I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. He's just playing a game, one that involves sleeping with me, apparently. Don't ask me why.

"Then he kidnapped me and tied me to a chair for three hours," —I ground my teeth at that— "before returning back with what we now found out was a fake USB. He knew I'd try to steal it which means... he played me again. He let me escape. I knew it had been too easy," I growled, clenching my fist. "Fucking bastard. Alright, continuing; We now know that he must've stashed the USB somewhere else before he let himself get caught," I said, pacing back and forth again. "The question is where?"

Bob just kept swimming around his little underwater castle. Very helpful.

I sighed and sat down on the couch next to him. "I need to know what his angle is. What does he want with me specifically? And why the hell is he still here?" I asked, frowning. "If he's got the USB, then why hasn't he left for Spaghetti country yet? Unless... he can't get out? Maybe he's stuck here in the States!"

It could be plausible. He was one of the most wanted men in America right now, every local police station and government agency had his picture. "If that's the case, Bob, he'll need to find someone who can fly the USB to Italy for him. But he's not going to choose just anybody," I said, shooting to my feet. "He has to choose someone he trusts! Someone from his own turf."

I had this figured out.

"Bob, you're a genius," I said, grinning widely. "This is why I keep you around!"

Bob just circled his castle again.

~~~

"Undercover? Are you sure? Won't he recognize you?"

"That's the thing; not here," I said, throwing a file down onto Howard's desk. He took the file and opened it. "The Trojan Horse is a well known club, known for its 'special' ladies. These women aren't your common prostitutes; These are bored housewives of diplomats who're looking for a little anonymous entertainment. The Trojan Horse provides them with said anonymity so their husbands will never know. They give them masks to wear so that nobody can see their faces and dress them up in costumes. The wives get to have their fun and the clientele gets to grope on mysterious, important women for a small fortune."

"So you want to go undercover as the wife of a diplomat in this club?" Howard questioned and closed the file again.

"I've done my research," I told. "The Italian Mob is known for hanging out there every Saturday. They gather to discuss business and meet possible clients. Vince knows he can't get the USB out of the country the legal way anymore, so he has to go to them for help. If and when he approaches the mob, they'll meet there. Trust me."

Howard thought long and hard, hands folded by his chin. "It's thin, Rya. There are a lot of gaping holes here."

"Maybe, but if I've learned anything from Vince these last few days, it's that he has no inhibitions. AISE knows he has the information, but also knows he's acquired it illegally. We've reported it to their government that one of their agents has stolen information from us, and all they've done is apologize on their country's behalf. Don't you see? As long as they pretend they don't know about the steal, they're making sure we don't start a war with them. I'll bet you anything that they assigned Vince to steal that information and smuggle it back illegally; The Italian Mob is the way to go."

Howard looked at me again, narrowing his eyes in close consideration of my words. Finally, he stood up and buttoned his suit. "Very well, agent Wilkins. Set it up. Do you really think you can nail him on this one?"

I straightened my face. Define 'nail', please. "If he shows up to that club, we got him. He'll have to bring the USB. I doubt he'll just leave it somewhere random."

"Then let's finish this, shall we?" Howard smiled and walked around his desk. "This Vince is beginning to grow me some headache."

"You're telling me," I grunted. Maybe he hadn't given me a headache, but he had given me a different kind of ache.

~~~

The Trojan Horse reeked of Cuban cigars and played caddy old burlesque music through their speakers. Besides from that, The Trojan Horse was an upscale place with glass, marble, golden chandeliers and a great big stage where diplomatic wives could flaunt their stuff.

Shady men in hats and coats puffed on their cigs and drank golden liquids in expensive leather chairs while they discussed their business and looked at the masked ladies. The attention-starved wives flocked around them or sat on their laps, giggling and toying with them. They all wore something akin to lingerie that showed off more or less everything they were born with. And not born with.

Their husbands really had to be boring if they came to places like this to get their grind, I thought to myself as I gazed out to into the club. But eh, who cared? Girls just wanted to have fun.

And I had a feeling tonight would be very fun.

"Remember now," A voice in my ear said. Monroe's. "You are the slutty wife of a Romanian diplomat, so just act natural and you'll be fine."

Aaand there went my buzz. "Thanks, got it."

"Do you remember the codeword if anything goes sideways?"

"'Can I finish your drink?'" I recited flatly. "Monroe I got this. It's not my first covert OP."

"Right. And remind me how that last one went again?"

I gritted my teeth. "It's not too late for me to walk out of this club and shoot you in the crotch, Monroe."

"But then you'd miss seeing your Italian fucktoy again, and you don't want that, do you? I heard about the steamy kiss you shared in the extraction room, by the way. Is it true you used tongue?"

"Shut up," I had to fight to keep my temper down. I couldn't afford to lose it now. "We have a mission at hand, so let's pretend to be professionals for one evening and get it done, alright? Then if you're still alive by then, we can take it to the alley and work it out rationally." With my gun and your head.

"Whatever. Now get your ass out on the floor and start flashing your tits. You got attention to catch and you won't catch it standing in the corner."

I zoned out Monroe's voice and instead begun walking further into the club, swaying my hips as I went. The panther mask I wore covered up my entire face, except for my eyes. I wasn't stupid, though, I figured Vince might recognize my eyes. That's why I'd worn brown contacts, and as an added bonus, had covered up my tattoo.

Keeping an eye out for someone tall, dark and Italian, I made my way through the club to a secluded corner. I made notice of a group of men that not like the others spoke Italian. I believed this was my party.

"Do you copy?" I murmured low enough for nobody to hear.

"We copy. We have our translator here. Interact with them. Get closer, maybe go sit on one of their laps. If your ass fits."

I blocked him out again. Swaying over to the table, I did my best to look seductive. It worked, apparently, when one of them looked up and gave me a scrutinizing look, one that specially rested around my breasts. Pig.

I decided to play on it. I walked around the table until I made it to his chair, then bent down to graze his arm, pressing my mask to his ear. "I'm feeling awfully lonely."

I could tell his mouth lifted into a wide grin. He laughed hoarsely and then cocked a brow at me. "That is no state for a beautiful to woman be in. Come, sit, Panterona."

He patted his thigh and I slowly sat down on it, making sure to wrap my arm around his neck and cross my legs over his, seductively. His arm came around my waist and then rested on my thigh, running his hand up and down and tickling along the panty-line of the two-piece lingerie outfit I was wearing.

I kept my jaw clenched and tried focusing on something else. That turned out to be a hard task when his hand begun creeping to the gap between my legs.

I grabbed his hand. "That'll cost you if you want to go any further."

He chuckled rawly. "Scusi, Panterona. I was merely making sure you were comfortable."

I gave a vague reply and then the conversation fell back into Italian. The men kept puffing away on their cigars during their hour long chat while I kept getting small comments from Monroe in my earpiece, informing me about what they were discussing. So far it was everything from organized crime to 'my wife didn't do that, so I did that to her'.

Hours flew by while I circled around, but mostly just sat on men's laps. It wasn't looking like Vince was showing up, and Monroe and the team were growing impatient out in the listening van.

"We've been at this for hours, Wilkins. We have enough to bring down the entire Magaddino crime family, but it doesn't look like your fucktoy is coming."

He had to show up, I thought. If Vince didn't come here, then where the hell could he go? He didn't have—

A commotion by the door caught my attention, and as a tall shadow came out into the light, I saw what it was all about.

"I've got eyes on Vince. He's here," I mumbled, staying back in a corner as he approached the table of the Italian mafia. They all greeted each other with boastful Italian words before they took a seat. Spaghetti ordered a glass of bourbon, straight. That was my cue.

I swayed up to him, doing my best impression of a slow runway walk. I stopped up next to him and I noticed him glance sideways at my legs which were now at his eye-height. "Would you like some company with that drink?"

I coated on a good Romanian accent, knowing how observant he was. The tiniest slip-up and my cover was blown.

He slowly let his eyes trail up my legs, to my hips, to my stomach, to my breasts, and finally to my face which was covered by the mask. That dangerous slow smirk spread on his lips. "How can I say no?"

I felt positively scorched.

Placing a seductive hand on his shoulder, I sunk to his thigh and straddled him, feeling his arm wrap around my waist, hand on my thigh. Was that a classic Italian thing?

I now sat there, trying to keep my heart under control, but truthfully, I was on edge. If he somehow knew, I'd be defenseless. Sitting atop of him, he had the advantage and I could tell he was armed. Maybe I could snatch his gun before he had the chance?

"So, Santino," One of the Italian mafia men with a goatee begun. "Che possiamo fare per te?"

"Ho un piccolo problema con il trasferimento," Vince replied in smooth Italian, lifting his glass to his lips to sip it. All the while his thumb rubbed back and forth on my thigh. "Ho bisogno di aiuto per trasportare un piccolo ma prezioso oggetto a casa."

The man with the goatee hummed thoughtfully at whatever he said and then grinned. "Che tipo di problema ti ha causato per richiedere la nostra... assistenza?"

Vince smirked back and sipped his drink again. "Quello non vi riguarda. Vi pagherò profumatamente per non farmi dormande. La madre patria Italia vi sarà in debito per questo."

Goatee guy held out his glass. "Allora nessun'altra domanda verrà chiesta. Parliamo quindi dei dettagli."

"He's negotiating with them," Monroe said in my earpiece. "He's striking a deal."

I waited a few more minutes while they talked back and forth in Italian. Some laughs were exchanged, but I couldn't even pay notice to what they were saying. Vince's hand kept brushing my thigh, slow and languidly as if he wasn't even aware that he was doing it anymore. Yet, still... it felt like all of his attention was directed into each little stroke.

"Rya, get him to show us the USB," Monroe said into my earpiece. "There's no point in taking him down if he ain't got it on him. He'll never speak."

Alright, I thought. New plan.

I abruptly stood up which made Vince raise a brow. "Everything alright, Pantera?"

"Whatever business you are discussing is boring me," I said, purposely playing with a lace by my breasts. It worked; his gaze fell to my cleavage. "My attention is reserved only for stimulating conversations or... pleasurable company."

At that he cocked a brow and slowly smirked. "Is that so?"

Stay cool, I told myself. He was up to something. Was my cover blown? It couldn't be. "Da."

Vince chuckled a little, then glanced at his fellow men. "Esuberante, non è vero?" He said. They chuckled in response. "Gentlemen, if business is done, I think I will show this lady to the champagne room."

Okay, I thought. He was taking me to the champagne room. I had to think fast. I had two options; one, give the codeword and have the CIA bust in here and take him down now without knowing if he had the USB on him, or two; follow him into the champagne room and frisk him down while getting nasty.

The last one was risky, but it was the best option, too. We simply couldn't let him get away.

When Vince stood up and extended his arm to me, I took it. In my ear I heard Monroe cursing me for what the hell I was doing, but of course I couldn't answer him. All I could do was play along with whatever Vince was doing.

"I hope you have cash," I drawled in my Romanian accent. "I do not accept checks and a money wire could alarm my husband of my nightly activities."

"I have cash," Vince replied as we stepped into the champagne room. He said something to the man guarding the door, something I didn't catch, before he closed us in. You could barely hear the music in here, just the slightest tune playing in the background.

Vince took a relaxed seat in the red chaise lounge in the middle of the room and unbuttoned the first two button of his white shirt. "So, Panterona. What services do you offer?"

A part of me was thoroughly disgusted with him. He was paying a woman to do things to him. A married woman.

Another part of me was mentally listing off all the things I could do. Maybe I chose the wrong profession.

"That depends... what would you like me to do?" I didn't know what I wanted him to answer the most.

His smirk returned. "Come here."

Swaying up to him, I straddled him like a horse, wrapping my hands around his neck. Our eyes locked.

Dangerous waters.

"Now what?" I seductively whispered.

"Now..." He slowly said. "Now we lose our audience."

And just like that, the earpiece in my ear made a piercingly high squeak that nearly blew out my eardrums. Almost screaming, I cringed and got the earpiece out, the same time I felt Vince's hand lock around my throat. He yanked my mask off.

"There," He said, smirking cockily at me. "Let's pick up where we left off, shall we?"

• • •

Busted.