Chapter Four

Bethany Shaw slid into the booth at a coffee shop off the strip and snatched the menu from the table. Espresso scented the air around her as she settled in. The undercover cop adjusted her slinky red halter top, its tie digging into the back of her neck. Her white miniskirt stuck tantalizingly to her hips, flaunting her sexy, toned legs. Strappy red sandals adorned her bare feet. She glanced across at Warren.

Beth’s handler smirked over his steaming black coffee, a subtle mischief glinting in his eyes. His gray button-up shirt clung to his broad chest, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Dark jeans and loafers completed the rugged, professional look.

“How’s my best girl doing today? He asked with a teasing grin, leaning back casually. “How much did you rake in last night?”

The rookie’s jaw clenched, her blue eyes flashing with irritation. She had been working the streets for a week since her undercover assignment started, and she hated how ‘normal’ her supposed handler made this all sound.

She dug into her purse with a scowl and pulled out a wad of crumpled bills totaling $300 from her night’s work. “Take it,” she grumbled, tossing it across the table with a flick of her wrist. Her stomach twisted at the memory of last night’s johns.

Warren scooped up the cash, raised an eyebrow, and let out a low whistle. “Three hundred? Damn, Bambi, I’m impressed. That’s your best haul yet.” He said, his voice was thick with mock admiration as he pocketed the money. “You’re turning into a real pro.”

Beth glared at the former detective, her fingers drumming a furious beat on the table. “Can we skip these games and talk about the mission?” She snapped, eager to dodge his frivolous jabs. “I’m getting nowhere with the Toymaker. There’s been no new leads since that first john.”

The gray-haired man nodded, his smirk fading a little. “That’s not good enough,” he replied. “You need to dig deeper if we’re going to catch this bastard.”

The undercover cop leaned forward, her voice sharp with frustration. “I’ve been trying every night,” she said. “The street is buzzing with talk, but it’s all vague. I need something concrete to work with.”

He took a sip of his coffee, eyeing her over the rim. “You’re on the right track,” he said. “You need to keep pushing those girls. They know something they’re not telling you.” He grinned. “Whores are incredibly guarded of anyone they don’t know. You need to get them to accept you as one of them.”

Warren’s gaze flicked past the brunette woman at his table as he spotted the lanky waiter heading their way. A wicked grin spread across his face. “How about we have a little fun? Flirt with the waiter when you order; make it obvious.” He chuckled as he spoke the command.

Beth froze, her stomach dropping as the order took hold. She wanted to claw that smug smirk from his face, but her conditioning locked her in. The waiter stopped at their table, his apron dangling loose over his skinny frame. “Can I get you something to drink?” He asked, directing his attention towards the undercover cop.

The brunette woman threw her chest forward and batted her lashes like a cartoon seductress. “Ohh, sweetie, I’d just die for a latte,” she purred, her voice syrupy and loud enough to turn heads. She leaned across the table, trailing her fingers up and down the skinny waiter’s arm with a slow, teasing stroke before handing him back the menu with a lingering caress. “Can you make it quick, sugar? I’m aching to taste some of your special cream,” she cooed, softly licking her lips and blowing a dramatic kiss as she twirled her hair. Each word she said stabbed at her pride little by little.

The waiter turned bright red, his ears flaring like beacons, and he stammered, “R-r-right away, ma’am.” He fumbled the menu, nearly dropping it as he backed away.

Warren exploded with laughter, slamming his fist on the table so hard that his cup rattled. “Ohh, that’s too good!” He roared, doubling over as his gray eyes watered with glee. Despite being the young woman’s police handler, he was having way too much fun with the control he held over his hated former partner’s golden child. “You’re great fun, Bambi. Special cream? That’s golden.”

The undercover cop wasn’t quite as impressed as her fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms as she glared at the older man with seething hatred.

He caught his breath, wiping his eyes with a final chuckle. “Alright, enough of that,” he said, straightening up in his seat. “You need to try harder. You need to integrate fully with those streetwalkers. They talk to their inner circle, and they are the best chance we have to find that son of a bitch.”

Beth forced her jaw to unclench. “How do I make them trust me when they’re so guarded?” She shifted uncomfortably in the booth, her miniskirt riding up slightly.

The former detective leaned back casually. “Keep playing the part,” he replied. “Show up where they are, talk their talk. They’ll open up once you’re one of them.”

She bit her lower lip, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. “That’s easier said than done,” she replied. “They’re not exactly welcoming me with open arms yet.”

He grinned, his tone turning firm. “Use that charm you just showed off,” he said. “I know you have it in you. They’ll crack eventually.”

The rookie cop scoffed, crossing her legs swiftly. “Don’t try to turn that little stunt into some wise lesson,” she snapped. “You’re making this harder for me than it needs to be.”

Warren raised a hand, his smirk never faltering. “Relax, kid,” he said. “You’re too wound up. Loosen up out there, or you’ll never blend in.”

The brunette woman took a deep breath. She knew he was right, but she would never admit it to his smug face. “Anything else I should know?” She asked, her tone softening as she prepared to leave.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Stay away from Sweetlips. She’s got you pegged, and it will be difficult to win her round.”

The waiter hurried back and set her latte down with a nervous clink. “Anything else for you?” he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he avoided her gaze.

Beth forced a tight smile, her conditioning still buzzing under her skin. “No, thank you, honey,” she cooed, keeping it brief this time. He nodded and darted away.

She turned back to her handler. “So that’s it?” she asked, her fingers brushing the cup’s handle. “Just keep pushing the girls?”

The gray-haired man nodded firmly. “That’s your next step,” he said. “Get in tight with them. They’ll lead you to him.”

The rookie took a sip of her latte, the heat stinging her tongue. “Fine,” she muttered, setting the cup down with a thud. “I’ll figure it out.”

Warren leaned forward, his grin softening into something sharper. “You will,” he said. “If you want to get out of those latex dresses and stop rinsing the taste of cum out of your mouth every night, you’ll get the job done.”

Beth stood abruptly, her hips swaying as she stormed toward the door. She didn’t spare him a glance, her heels clicking furiously against the floor. The handler’s crude words echoed in her ears, fueling her resolve to end this nightmare. She shoved the glass door open and stepped into the glaring Vegas sun. Last night's earnings, now safely in Warren’s pocket, were a bitter reminder of her role. She had a mission, and the fate of countless women rested on her shoulders.

❖

A few hours later, Beth strutted toward the shadowy street corner near the airport as the sun dipped low. Neon lights from rundown casinos and dive bars flickered to life overhead, bathing the cracked pavement in a sensual glow. The undercover cop tossed her dark hair, letting her hips sway with a conditioned ease. She wore a glittery silver crop top that bared her toned midriff and showcased her modest breasts, paired with a black leather pleated skirt highlighting her fishnet-stockinged legs. Her 5-inch silver stilettos clicked seductively with each step, announcing her arrival to her fellow streetwalkers. She scanned the scene, spotting her targets.

Raven leaned against a lamppost with a cigarette in her mouth, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders. She wore a purple bustier that cinched her slender waist, pushing up her ample chest, while tight black pleather shorts showcased her long legs. She flicked her cigarette, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.

Candy stood nearby, petite and coy, her short brunette curls bouncing as she giggled. She wore a gold minidress that clung to her slim frame, its hem barely reaching her upper thigh, and her matching glittery heels sparkled under the neon lights.

Lola rounded out the trio; her much curvier figure was wrapped in a red halter jumpsuit that squeezed her in the right places and emphasized every curve. Her fiery red hair tumbled in bold waves, and she laughed loud enough to turn heads.

The rookie flashed a pleasant smile as she sauntered closer. “Busy night out tonight?” she purred, trying to sound welcoming in her sensuous voice.

.Raven smirked and blew a thin stream of smoke. “Always is, babe. This is Vegas,” she replied. “How’s the street treating you tonight?”

Beth eased in, her stilettos clicking softly. “Just started,” she said. “Daddy thinks it’s a waste out here when the sun is up.” Her tone stayed playful.

Candy giggled, shifting her weight to one hip. “You got yourself a smart Daddy,” she said. “Night’s where the real money rolls in.”

Lola grinned, her bold laugh cutting through the air. “Had a john last night try to tip me with a slot voucher,” she said. “Like I’m gonna cash that in between tricks.”

Beth chuckled, sliding into their vibe with ease. “What a loser,” she teased. “Anything else heating up out here tonight?” Her voice stayed smooth, her eyes probing for Toymaker hints.

Raven shrugged and flicked her cigarette to the pavement. “Just the usual pervs,” she replied. “Nothing worth a story.”

Candy nodded, her giggle fading a bit. “Yea, you bet. Same johns, same hustle,” she repeated, her gaze drifting off.

The brunette woman’s eyes wandered past them, landing on Sweetlips across the street. The blond stood alone, her violet leather minidress stretched tight over a fuller chest, her teased hair catching the neon flicker. The rookie tilted her head, noting the tension in her stance—something had shifted since the last time she saw her.

Raven caught her glance and leaned in close. “Sweetlips just got her second boob job,” she whispered in Beth’s ear. “She should be home recovering, but her Daddy’s super demanding. He won’t let her miss a night out here.”

Beth arched an eyebrow, keeping her expression neutral. “That’s a rough deal,” she murmured, storing the detail in her mind. Sweetlips’ icy stare sliced across the street, hard and unyielding, sending a chill through the rookie’s veins.

Lola stepped forward, her grin breaking the tension. “You’re coming out with us tonight, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice teasing. “We’re heading to a club later unless your Daddy’s got you working overtime.”

The undercover cop turned back with a flirty wink. She wasn’t going to check with her ‘Daddy’. “I’m free for you girls,” she cooed. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.” The invitation was the opening she had been waiting for.

Candy clapped her hands, her glittery heels flashing as she bounced. “It’s going to be a wild night,” she said. “I know this strip club off-strip that’s just opened up. The owner is one of my clients.” She giggled.

Beth raised an eyebrow. Why would the girls want to hang around sweaty men after work? It didn’t make sense to her.

Raven smirked, catching her puzzled look. “You’ll love it, babe,” she said. “We go for the free drinks and the VIP treatment.”

Lola nodded, her red hair swaying with the motion. “Plus, the dancers are hot,” she softly licked her lips, hinting at her sexual preferences. “I wouldn’t mind having some of them sit on my face.”

Beth laughed, her confusion easing into a playful grin. “Free drinks sound tempting enough,” she replied. “When are we heading there?”

Raven leaned in, her smirk widening. “We usually head out about 1. Wear something that turns heads,” she said. “You’ve got the legs to make jaws drop.”

Beth nodded, locking the location in her mind. “I’ll dig up something dazzling,” she purred. “See you ladies there.” She tossed her hair with a sultry flair, letting her hips sway as she turned to leave. She didn’t need to work tonight. She had more productive plans.

Sweetlips’ glare tracked her across the street, a cold weight that lingered. The blond’s fuller chest and stiff stance were stuck in Beth’s thoughts. Her Daddy’s demands mirrored Warren’s control in a way that twisted her gut.

The rookie clenched her fists, her stilettos clicking against the pavement. She’d wedged her way in with Raven, Candy, and Lola; the club was her next shot at intel. She tottered back towards her motel with a new goal. She needed to pick out an outfit that would impress the girls. Perhaps Lola’s preference for women was something the undercover cop could work with.

❖

Beth Shaw adjusted her plunging emerald-green dress as she stepped out of the cab, its side cutouts teasing glimpses of her fishnet-clad legs. The fabric draped low across her chest, bold enough to turn heads even amongst the sea of streetwalkers and strippers, while her black ankle-strap heels clicked against the pavement outside the Pink Velvet Lounge.

She’d picked the outfit to dazzle, her dark hair swept into a high ponytail that swayed with each move. The undercover cop spotted Raven, Candy, and Lola ahead, their sexy frames highlighted by the external club lighting.

Candy waved her over, bouncing in a silver bikini top and matching micro-shorts that bared her slim legs, her glittery heels flashing. “You made it!” she called, darting to the entrance.

Beth followed the group, catching Raven’s smirk. “Nice threads,” the black-haired woman said, her black lace bodysuit tracing her slender curves, a sheer skirt fluttering around her thighs as she flicked her long hair.

Lola grinned, her black vinyl dress slashed to reveal her lush figure, a studded choker glinting at her throat. “You’re killing it tonight,” she purred as they stepped inside.

A heavy-set man with greasy black hair and a gold chain greeted them at the door. Tony “T-Bone” Mancini pulled Candy into a tight hug, grinning wide. “Good to see my best girl,” he said, then grabbed Raven and Lola for quick, handsy embraces, his fingers brushing their backs. The large man turned to Beth and hugged her tightly, his hand squeezing her barely covered asscheeks. “Who’s this stunner?” he asked, his tone was thick with sleaze.

Beth forced a smile, her skin crawling from his touch. “Bambi,” she replied, keeping her voice sweet to hold her cover. “Great club you’ve got here.”

T-Bone chuckled and led them past a velvet rope. “I’m Vegas born and bred, and this town needed a damn good titty bar,” he said crudely, guiding them to a cushioned VIP booth by the stage.

The Pink Velvet Lounge buzzed with dim lights and smoke, dancers working the poles as glasses clinked. He waved for the cocktail waitress, ensuring his favorite girl and her friends were taken care of before leaving the group to mingle with another group of customers.

Beth settled into the booth, sipping her fruity cocktail as Candy beamed at the turnout. “T-Bone’s got this place hopping for opening night,” she said, her silver top flashing off the reflecting balls overhead.

The rookie leaned back, swirling her drink. “He’s got a good crowd already,” she replied, easing in. “How’d you snag him as a regular?”

Candy grinned, twirling her straw. “He’s been my regular for months,” she said. “He kept saying he’d open a spot and make an honest woman out of me, but he knows that’s not how I roll.” She giggled.

Beth nodded, keeping the small talk flowing. “Smart move, sticking with what works,” she said, her tone playful. “This place looks like it was a good business move.”

Lola slid closer, her vinyl dress creaking as she leaned in, her breath warm with booze. “You’re, like, too smart to be out on the street,” she slurred, her hand brushing Beth’s thigh. “You should be like a lawyer or something.”

The brunette flashed a flirty smile, leaning into the touch. “Maybe I like the street life too much,” she teased, letting Lola’s hand linger. “I like to keep things interesting.” Beth continued to flirt, knowing Lola was her best chance for quick intel.

Lola giggled, her fingers tracing higher. “Interesting’s good,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “You’re trouble. I like that.”

Beth tilted her head, keeping the vibe light. “Trouble’s my specialty,” she replied, her smile widening. “What about you? How’s the night been so far?”

Lola swayed, her hand resting on Beth’s leg. “Ohh, I’m just enjoying the company,” she smiles playfully.

The rookie saw her opening. “Speaking of company,” she said, her tone casual, “what do you know about Brittney? Wasn’t she the last girl the Toymaker got? One of my clients mentioned her last night.”

Lola shrugged, her grin slipping a little. “I didn’t know her much personally,” she replied, her words slurring from her third cocktail. “It was a big loss to the street, though. She was real pretty.”

Beth kept her gaze steady. “You and the girls don’t seem too shaken up about it,” she said. “Why’s that?”

Lola chuckled, her hand squeezing Beth’s thigh gently. “He only goes for the young, busty, extremely fake-looking Barbie doll type,” she said, her voice thick with drink. “You know the type. Those girls who play up that super dumb act. Me and the girls don’t match that.”

The brunette nodded, keeping her expression neutral. “So you’re saying he only preys on blond working girls who act dumb?” she asked, pressing for more.

Lola tilted her head, giggling again. “Pretty much,” she replied, tapping Beth’s leg. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, babe. You’re not blond, and you’re way too sharp for that.” She scanned Beth up and down, “and you’re not exactly stacked, no offense.”

Beth forced a laugh, her mind locking in the details. “No offense taken,” she replied, keeping it light. “Brittney was one of those types?”

Lola nodded, her eyes drifting to the stage dancer’s curves. “Yeah, she had the look,” she said, slurring more. “Big fake boobs, dumb giggle. I heard that bastard shipped her off to her real Daddy. That’s sick.”

The undercover cop kept her smile, digging further. “Shipped her off?” she asked. “What does that mean?” Beth knew exactly what it meant. After the Toymaker murders his victim, he has her embalmed and dollified before packaging her in a human-sized Barbie box and sending her to a loved one. However, she wanted to know precisely what her new informant knew.

Lola shrugged, her hand sliding off Beth’s thigh. “Dunno,” she mumbled, her focus fading. “Just what I heard. Sick bastard.”

Beth leaned back, swirling her drink as the intel sank in. T-Bone swaggered back, leaning over Candy. “Hey babe, I some high rollers in the back rooms,” he said, his chain hanging from his neck. “You’re welcome to join if you and your friends want to make some extra cash.” He showed the group a toothy grin.

Raven slid out of the booth. “I’m in,” she said, smoothing her sheer skirt. “Could use the extra money.”

Lola stumbled to her feet, grinning at Beth. “Come on, trouble,” she said, her tone teasing. “It’ll be fun, and the cash is sweet.”

Candy nodded, standing up with a giggle. “You should join us,” she said, adjusting her bikini top. “If T-Bone’s guys are like him, they’ll tip big, and we could use another girl to keep them happy.”

Beth shook her head, keeping her smile polite. “I’ll sit this one out,” she replied, her voice smooth. “I’m good here for now, but you girls enjoy.” Her essential street walking work was bad enough. She had no intention of providing extras.

Lola pouted, nudging closer. “You sure, babe?” she asked, brushing Beth’s arm. “We’d make a hot team.”

The rookie held firm, her tone gentle. “Next time, maybe,” she said, easing Lola’s hand off. “Enjoy yourselves.”

T-Bone shrugged, guiding Raven, Candy, and Lola toward the back. “It’s her loss, girls,” he said, his arm wrapped around Candy as they slipped through a curtain.

The undercover cop sat alone in the VIP booth, swirling her cocktail in her hand. The Toymaker’s type crystallized in her mind, young, busty, fake, and dumb. Beth shuddered. If the information was correct, all of Beth’s sacrifices were for nothing. She wasn’t his type, and she had no chance of stumbling along the crazed killer. Carefully, the brunette scanned the room. She needed a new plan.

❖

After 30 minutes of being left alone, Beth gathered her purse in the VIP booth of the Pink Velvet Lounge, ready to slip out. Her cocktail sat nearly empty, the club’s dim lights casting shadows over the dancers on stage. The undercover cop adjusted her dress and scanned for the exit.

A figure caught her eye near the bar, a Latino man with a broad chest and a white tank top stretched tight over his frame. Gold teeth gleamed in his wide grin, and rings flashed on his thick fingers as he tugged a leather leash.

Attached to the leather was a girl, her head bowed, eyes fixed on the sticky floor. A black leather collar choked her neck, a wide black ring gag forcing her mouth open, drool glistening on her impressive bust. Her outfit was a mockery, a glossy vinyl string bikini top, and a matching g-string with a white rim. She adorned ripped red fishnet stockings and towering 7” platform stilettos.

The woman shuffled behind the man holding her leash, submissive and shamed, her cheeks flushed red. Beth’s stomach lurched, a wave of embarrassment crashing over her for the woman. How could anyone force a girl into such a disgraceful public display, parading her like a pet? The sight sent chills down her spine, her breath catching as she gripped her purse tighter.

The man, Rico, strutted over, his swagger oozing confidence, his dark eyes raking over Beth’s emerald dress. He tugged the leash sharply, forcing his girl to kneel beside the booth, her drool-slicked chin dipping lower. “Hey, Mamacita, you’re one of those working whore, si?” He asked. “I saw you out by the airport last night. You need some protection out here,” he said, his accent thick and harsh.

The imposing man groped his girl’s tits, squeezing them through the vinyl top as he grinned at Beth. “You’d make a fortune for me.” Chills prickled Beth’s skin, her conditioning kicking in with a forced flirty laugh, but her gut twisted at his casual cruelty.

Beth slid back into the booth cautiously, her fingers tightening on her purse. “Sorry. I’ve got a Daddy already,” she replied, her tone light but firm, her eyes darting to the bar exit across the room.

Rico kneaded his girl’s ass, his rings catching the dim light. “Your Daddy ain’t running you right,” he said, leaning closer. “I’d get you the best clients, real cash.” Beth’s stomach churned harder, her gaze flicking to the stage side door, a quicker way out.

“I’m set,” she said, her voice steady, shifting her weight as her escape routes sharpened in her mind. Rico’s hand slid up his girl’s chest, tugging the bikini top aside to expose her, her muffled whimper stoking Beth’s disgust. He twisted the woman’s taut nipple in a display of control.

“You’ll be safer with me,” he pressed, his grin tightening. “The street will swallow you up if you don’t got the right protection, chica.” Beth’s chills deepened, her eyes tracing the bar exit, then the stage side, her pulse quickening under his stare.

“No thanks,” she replied, her tone firmer this time, sliding her purse onto her lap. Rico’s hand roamed again, squeezing the girl’s exposed breast, her body flinching as he scoffed.

“You’re throwing away easy money,” he said, his voice edged with irritation. “Think about it, Mamacita. I’d treat you better than that pendejo you’re with.” Beth’s disgust flared, her gaze locking on the stage exit, her fingers itching to move.

“I’m good,” she said, her smile tight, her body angled toward escape. Rico scowled, releasing his girl’s breast to dig into his pocket. He slid a card across the table, his grin souring.

“Call me when you wise up,” he muttered, standing with a sharp tug on the leash. “Adios, chica,” he said. His girl staggered up, head still bowed, drool trailing as he strutted off, her platform heels clacking unevenly.

Beth pocketed the card, her breath shaky. The girl’s shame and Rico’s groping burned in her mind. The chills down her spine lingered as she slid out of the booth, rushing through the club, her heels clicking fast on the sticky floor. The crowd was a blur; she only knew she needed to get out of there before anyone else approached her.

Finally out in the fresh air, she found herself able to breathe. The brunette hailed a nearby cab and began heading to Warren’s. She needed to tell him what she’d learned.

❖

Beth stepped out of the cab, her heels steady on the cracked pavement outside Warren’s safehouse on Gilespie Street. She clutched her purse, Rico’s card burning a hole in it, and stormed up the steps, her ponytail swaying with each furious stride. The front door banged open as she barreled in, her breath tight with urgency.

Inside, Warren was sprawled out in an armchair, pants unzipped, meaty cock in his hand as he stroked himself to a video blaring on the TV—a tied-up pornstar, ropes tightly and expertly decorating her skin, moaned in pleasure as she was fucked in a hardcore gangbang, men crowding her writhing form. The former detective jolted at Beth’s entry, fumbling the remote to mute it, yanking a blanket over his lap. “Shit,” he muttered, his face flushing as he scrambled to cover up.

“What the fuck is this?!” she snapped, her voice thick with disgust, her stomach turning at the sight. “You’re such a perv.” After what she witnessed at the club with Rico’s submissive woman, this was the last thing she wanted to see.

Warren smirked, trying to play it off, adjusting the blanket and zipping his pants back up. “Just unwinding, kid,” he said, his tone casual. “No harm in a little fun.”

Beth scowled. “You’re a sick bastard,” she spat, her eyes narrowing at his smug face, the pornstar’s lustful moans still echoing in her head. “Sitting here jerking off while I’m out there entertaining creeps for the mission.”

Warren’s smirk faded, his jaw tightening. “Enough,” he said, his voice sharp. “You need to learn your place in all this, doll. Now smile and tell me that you wish you were her. Describe how much you’d love to be helpless and fucked hard.” His grin reappeared as he knew exactly what was coming.

Beth’s conditioning kicked in, a wide, sexy smile spreading across her face despite the fury boiling inside. “Oh, I wish I was that girl on the screen,” she purred, her voice dripping with forced heat. “I’d love to be tied up tight, those ropes keeping me hot and helpless, holding me in place as those men surround me.” The words tasted like ash in her mouth, but she continued. “I’d crave their hands pinning me down, their thick cocks filling me one after another, filling every hole, pounding me hard until I’m gasping, my body trembling with every thrust. I’d want them to fuck me senseless, stretching me open, leaving me dripping and begging for more, my screams muffled as they take me over and over, relentless, until I’m a shaking, sweaty mess, completely at their mercy.” Her words poured out, thorough and vivid, each syllable a dagger to her pride, her fists clenched white-knuckled as Warren’s grin widened, his eyes wide with sick delight.

He leaned back, sipping his bourbon. “That’s enough,” he said, setting the glass down. “What’d you learn tonight?”

Beth immediately shook off the forced smile. “I ended up at a new club tonight and got speaking to one of the other girls. The Toymaker goes for young, busty, extremely fake-looking women,” she said, her voice clipped, glaring at him.

Warren cut in, rolling his eyes. “We already know that,” he said dismissively.

She pressed on, undeterred. “I know, but he targets total Barbie bimbo types,” she replied sharply. “He liked the type of girls who play up the ultra-dumb stereotype. From what I heard, his last mark definitely fit that bill.”

Warren bit his lower lip and stood up, pouring himself another bourbon. “You don’t exactly look like the dumb Barbie bimbo type,” he said, his tone dry as he eyed her up and down, swirling his drink.

Beth’s jaw clenched, her frustration simmering. “Exactly,” she said, her voice tight. “I’m not his type. This whole undercover thing might be pointless.”

The former detective took a slow sip, his eyes narrowing as he thought it over. “That’s not ideal,” he said, setting the glass down. “But I might have an idea. You’re not going to like it, though.” His grin returned, a shimmer of amusement flickering in his gaze.

Beth’s anger flared, her fists balling tighter. She wasn’t ready to play another one of his games. “What the hell does that mean?” she demanded, tottering closer. “What are you thinking?”

Beth’s stomach dropped as the man slid a new mixtape across the table, this one labeled ‘Session 3’. “Listen to this from the moment you get back to your room until morning,” he commanded, sitting back down.

She stared at the tape, her heart racing. “What’s it about?” she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

Warren shrugged nonchalantly, sipping his drink again. “It’ll help with the plan,” he said, his grin widening as he offered no more.

Beth slammed the mixtape onto the dining room table, and the impact echoed throughout the room. “I’m not your damn toy!” she shouted defiantly. She had had it with his stupid commands that she couldn’t resist.

Warren leaned back in his chair, grinning at her tantrum. “Calm down, kid,” he taunted casually.

The undercover cop clenched her fists and spun toward the front door, storming out in a fury, her heels pounding the floorboards. As she placed her hand on the handle, her body froze, her legs locked by Warren’s conditioning, and her momentum halted mid-step.

“You bastard!” she hissed in frustration. Beth turned back towards the damn dining table and snatched the mixtape. She glared at her handler with contempt. “I’ll kill you when this is over,” she spat, gripping the tape like a vice, before storming out, slamming the door behind her with a force that rattled the frame.

The emerald-dress-clad woman marched down the street toward her motel, anger fueling every step against his twisted grip. She had no idea what was on that tape, but she knew she was about to fall into a new trap of humiliation.

End of Chapter Four