Licensed to Kill

Chapter 32

The strobe lights were nearly blinding as I peeked out from behind the backstage curtains, seeing the two women dancing lecherously around the metal poles in the center of the stage. In the front row, sporting a sleazy grin that would make you shudder with disgust, sat Miguel Santiago in all his asshole-ish glory. He was staring up at the strippers, a stiff drink in one hand and a wad of money in the other, urging them to remove what little was left of their racy clothing. I didn't have to imagine how uncomfortable that was for those girls – it was written all over their faces.

"Tali, are you sure you want to go through with this?" Dallas's voice came through my hidden earpiece.

His tone was a mix of worry and anger. He despised my plan and didn't want me to carry it out. He'd already tried to talk me out of it three times, but I was determined. I couldn't see a better option for taking down Santiago and Bellucci.

Really, I didn't want to execute this particular plan either, but I felt like I had no alternative. It was the easiest, least messy way to get to them. The hardest part would be for Dallas and Matt, taking out each bodyguard, one by one. The bodyguards were the most dangerous enemies because they were specially trained for situations like this one. But once they were out of the picture, Santiago and Bellucci really weren't all that talented in defending themselves.

"Yes, Dallas," I grumbled back at him, and I could see him rolling his eyes in the dim lighting.

I'd been keeping an eye on Dallas, Matt, and our adversaries, my focus constantly dancing back and forth between their locations around the club. Dallas sat at the bar, nursing a beer, while Matt was leaning up against the wall on the darker side of the room, not too far from where the small army of henchmen were dotted. They'd formed a spaced out half circle around their bosses, and I'd taken note of the fact that most of the men seemed to be more interested in the scantily clad women than in protecting Santiago, Bellucci, and whomever the third man was beside them.

When I turned away from the curtains, the woman in charge of the entertainers scurried over to me, telling me that the night's show was coming to a close and the drug lords would soon be headed to a back room beside the dressing room where they would enjoy their own private show – my show. She warned me for the second time that the men often liked to take advantage of the private stripper and indulge in more than just an eye-pleasing show. I shuddered at the thought, but I wouldn't let it deter me.

While the other girls were out onstage performing, I'd been getting ready for my act, stripping off all of my weapons and tactical gear and slipping on some lacy lingerie that left almost nothing to the imagination. I knew there was no way to conceal my knives and firearms with the minimal clothing I would be dancing around in, but that hadn't stopped me from trying to at least hide a small knife in my bra to no avail.

"Guys, I'm going back to secure the room," I told Matt and Dallas. "You'll know if anything goes awry."

"I really don't like this," Dallas muttered again, and I had to stop myself from mentioning that I'd done plenty worse performances to nab suspects in the past – he didn't know about those escapades.

"It'll be over soon," I tried to assure him as I headed down the hallway to the secluded room. "It all depends on how fast you two can bump off the muscle heads."

If all went well, Dallas and Matt would be finished getting rid of the drug lords' minions by the time my little dancing act would come to an end, and they could then barge in the room and help me finish the job with Santiago and Bellucci. It all sounded pretty simple to me. Clearly, I'd gotten too used to this shit...