I swallowed a large puff of breath, even at nighttime the California air was thick and hot.

Staying in this abandoned house was becoming a real pain, I had gotten too accustomed to AC and fluffy beds. All in all, I told myself that it was good to go back to my FBI roots, though it had only been twenty-four hours and I had already missed running water.

The alarm I'd set on my watch dinged, telling me it was five minutes to nine o'clock. I lifted myself off the wall I was leaning on, grabbing the binoculars sitting beside my stretched-out knee along with a can of energy drink.

My target had just pulled up, getting out of an SUV driven for him. The research I'd done beforehand told me that today was his birthday, and he had been out partying the whole day. Watching as the man I'd been waiting for made his way inside the fancy two-story house.

I made note of the well-taken care of the neighborhood, all the other houses had lustrous green plush yards and white picket fences while the house I had been keeping tabs on was worn down, falling apart, and dying patches of lawn. It stuck out like a sore thumb, making me come to the conclusion that this group of drug mules were collecting some pretty penny.

"Push come to shove, the local police won't be any help to me," I noted out loud.

Looking back out, I decided it was time to act as I ran the plan again over in my brain. Get past the goons, find Rod Ross, and pass off a message from Mello easey peasy.

A ring of sweat formed around my hairline, mostly from the humidity outside, but I would be lying if I didn't admit to feeling nervous. I reminded myself to highlight my womanly aspects as I walked right up to two large men standing on guard.

One was sitting on a rickety porch swing, drinking from a glass bottle with a lit cigarette hanging from his busted lip. The intrusive thought of the strong liquor pricked my mind, it was almost gone and I doubted he was sharing. He wouldn't be a problem in a scuffle.

The other man was a different story, he had boredom written all over his tanned face. A quick lookover told me that he was married, left-handed, and hiding a smaller handgun strapped to his ankle. He had his buff arms dangling over the white wooden porch railing, paint chips falling to the ground like a snowstorm. His voice matched his looks as he asked me what a pretty lady like me was doing all the way out here.

"It's not safe out here, Little Red."

I got the pun, wearing all red made me look like a certain fairy tale character. As a reaction to his cation, I pouted my lower lip.

"I'm a birthday gift for your boss, won't you let me through?"

They looked at each other, questioning my story silently among themselves. The first man noted that Rod didn't say anything about expecting a visitor, but I was insistent. After a quick discussion about the matter, the tanner man walked over to me. He towered over me by a good foot in measurements, but I didn't feel intimidated thanks to the Glock 42 strapped on my upper thigh, hidden by the steam of my cocktail dress.

"Fine, but we'll have to search you before."

I agreed to it, unsure if it was just a chance to touch my body, actually trying to do their job, or both. I stare off as I was quickly patted down, catching my breath a few times when strange hands drew close to my hidden weapon. To the tanned man's content, I passed their test and was sent up to the second-level bedroom on the right.

The place was unsettling on the outside but was even worst inside. The paint on the walls was clipped off, the smell of mildew was heavy in the air and almost completely dark. I heard a squelch as my heels stepped onto the welcome mat. I didn't investigate the source as I wanted to stay ignorant for as long as I could. Bodies lay among the couch and chairs, out of it and paying no attention to me.

I clicked my pumps up the wooden stairs to the room I was directed to, finding all the doors except the first one on my right were closed tight. Biting the bullet, I slithered around the corner to steal a peek. The room was neat with the king-size bed made up and the curtains opened just enough to let a stream of moonlight in.

It was a total contrast to the rest of the house I've seen.

"What are you doing up here?"

A voice rang out behind me, making me quickly turn around to face a large man made out of muscle. I matched his bald head and pencil-thin facial hair to the mugshot I'd memorized, deducting that I was speaking to Rod Ross, the leader of this branch of the mafia. He ran California's drug rings and import of weapons with an iron fist. The only thing confirmed about him was his love of women and drink.

"I was sent by the club, you know as a birthday present."

I reminded myself to act like a woman and not a government agent, something I had very little practice with up to this point. Making sure to keep his sight on me, I took a hearty breath rattling the tightness of my dress along my movements and curves.

Oh, I had him hooked now.

Rod "owned" so many nightclubs in the L. A area, smarter men would have asked which club, but not him in his state of excitement.

Pulling by his white dress jacket, I lead him into the room slowly as I walked backward. I waited for Rod to shut the door behind him, sliding my hand up the hem of my dress to hint at teasing when I pulled out the Glock hid away.

He let out some profanities as I pulled out my badge tucked away on my person.

"FBI, sit on the bed, Rod Ross," I ordered, using the barrel of the gun to do my pointing.

I side-eyed the table behind me, unmarked bills and an almost empty bottle of red wine sat still. Figuring I caught him counting profits before disturbing them to their proper places.

"With all the drugs and the money I've seen, I'd say I could make a few calls."

Looking over, Rod was looking green in the gills. He knew I wasn't talking about local, I meant federal enforcement.

"How much?"

"Close, but I don't want money," I noted, arms crossed over my chest.

"Then what, Agent Petrillo?" I could tell in his voice that his nerves were turning into anger.

"Patience, first I want to know what you think about Kira."

He let out a deep bray, a stupid question it was, but I had a point.

"Kira's a rusty cog in my machine. Too bad I can't use him to make a profit off of it."

I pointed out that maybe I could offer something just as good to him and his men. My words piqued his interest and I smiled slyly at him.

"Come work with me and my boss and let's take Kira down."

Rod sat silently, thinking my words through when a knock on the door broke up our meeting. I warned him not to mess this up and sent the person away, pointing my gun back at him.

"Fuck, go away!" he yelled, his tone full of false lust.

Realizing the situation being fed to the person who knocked, they quickly thumped heavily back down the stairs. I let out a small sigh of angst.

"What would be my role?" He picked back up.

"Banker mostly, but also letting us use your men as much as we want."

A smirk slithered across Rod's face.

"And the only thing I get out of this is a phone call not getting made?" It almost sounded like a coo.

"Not putting your real name and picture on a viral Kira site should entice."

He finally agreed to my demands, explaining that later tonight Rod needed to send over two of his men with little to no convictions to the Santa Monica Pier to pick something up on one of the docks.

"Done, what about me?"

"You and I are going shopping."