Girl Undercover 1, 2 & 3: Three-Part Bundle Read online

  Had that changed now? I guessed I would soon find out.

  I left the third floor and took the elevator up to the fourth where the fitness manager’s office was. Or at least used to be. I figured I might as well pop in and ask Joanne how to apply to become a trainer at the club, even though I was already familiar with the process. Nikkei, like most big health clubs, hired new trainers every two months because of the high turnover of staff.

  I turned the corner and walked toward the glass door behind which I hoped to find Joanne. As I got there, I stopped and peeked inside, expecting to spot Asian Joanne with her curtain of shiny black hair covering most of her face as she typed on her computer while also talking on the phone. But the person behind the desk was a tanned, well dressed man in his late thirties, early forties with slicked-back brown hair. He appeared to be reading something on his desktop computer screen.

  Where was Joanne? And who was this guy? Could I be so lucky that Joanne had been replaced as the fitness manager? That would make it easier for me to get back in. I’d expected getting past Joanne’s sharp eyes to be a hurdle, though not an insurmountable one.

  Well, I might as well find out, I thought. I opened the door and stuck my head in.

  “Excuse me. Is Joanne here somewhere?”

  The man looked up. “Joanne is no longer with the company. May I help you?”

  So she was gone then… Who was this dude then? Her replacement? Probably. I decided that a ballsy approach was best; managers preferred aggressive trainers.

  “Yes, if you’re the manager. I’m a trainer and am looking to work here at Nikkei.”

  His deep-set, brown eyes narrowed and he took me in for a long, silent moment.

  “Why don’t you come in and shut the door,” he said finally.

  A little surprised, I walked inside the small office and stopped before his desk. He kept scrutinizing me.

  “Please remove those glasses and let your hair down,” he demanded as if those were perfectly normal requests. “And if you’re wearing a workout top under that baggy sweater, I’d like it if you could take that off as well.”

  “Excuse me?” I said and just stared at him. Was he out of his mind? I’d said I was looking to work as a trainer, not a bathing suit model or stripper. Not even my flamboyant fitness manager back in L.A—where looks ruled if you wanted to work in the fitness industry—was this direct.

  As though he could hear all those words going through my head, he said in a friendlier tone, “I know that was very abrupt, but I need to get a better idea of what you look like. We only hire very attractive, highly qualified trainers here at Nikkei. The business in New York has become so competitive we need to make sure we offer our members trainers who look the part in addition to being skilled trainers. So if you want to work here, please help me get a better look at you.”

  Since I was in fact wearing a small workout top underneath my baggy sweater, I removed it and put it on the chair behind me. I didn’t have a problem showing off my body to this guy; I was in as good a shape as I had always been. Better even, in fact as, lately, I was leaner than before because I ran several miles per day as well as lifted weights to help me deal with the stress of losing Nick. It was either that or getting drunk or high to dull the pain that was especially noticeable when I was alone. I preferred keeping my mind clear at all times, so working out had become my analgesic of choice.

  Then I pulled out the hairband I had used to bunch up my hair with and shook out my new red locks. Last, I removed my fake glasses. Had I known I would have to pass a hotness test, I would have put on some makeup. As it was, my face was completely bare since I’d wanted to keep a low profile. Fortunately, I had nice skin, good bone structure, naturally dark lashes and full lips, so I wasn’t a total disaster au naturel.

  “Did you want me to twirl for you as well?” I asked, wishing that I hadn’t. Firing off sarcastic remarks was not a great way to win over anyone despite that I felt like a piece of cattle being assessed at an auction.

  Apparently, I didn’t have to worry. Rolf—that was his name according to the nametag on his chest—seemed to have a sense of humor because he let out a snort, his dark eyes glittering amused.

  “Sorry,” he said, “I know this is awkward, but corporate will get on my case if I don’t hire very good-looking trainers. So please bear with me. You clearly look the part. With some makeup on and losing the glasses, you’ll be dynamite. As long as your resume is as good as your looks, I can get you into the most recent group of hires. We just had a couple of trainers leave unexpectedly—both females—so your timing is perfect. Do you have your resume with you?”

  “I have it available on the web. Do you want me to email it to you?”

  Producing a fake fitness resume had been a piece of cake. I had all the necessary fitness certifications from when I worked at Nikkei and, being from New Mexico supposedly, it was easy to fake experience. Lots of experience. I hadn’t needed Jose for that part.

  Rolf gave me his card and told me to send it to the email address there. Then he extended his hand and, giving me a bright smile, introduced himself finally. I told him my name was Jamie.

  “Well, Jamie. If you have the right credentials and are willing to update your look, I may be able to hire you. As soon as I get your resume, I’ll run it by human resources and let you know. It would be great if you could get it in by the end of the day.”

  “Will do. Thanks a lot!” With those words, I grabbed my sweater and left Rolf’s office, feeling confident I’d be a trainer at Nikkei again shortly.

  Chapter 3

  “Yeah, things are way different from how they used to be,” Emma, one of the female Nikkei trainers, said as we walked down the stairs to have lunch together in the health club cafeteria. “The new owners run a tight ship for sure.”

  Emma had been one of the new hires while I was in the last weeks of my undercover assignment. She and Annika never got a chance to really speak, so I wasn’t worried that she would figure out this was the second time I was working at the club. I doubted she even remembered Annika. I had recently finished the one-week onboarding training all new hires had to go through and was on my fourth day of actually working as a trainer now. I’d struck up a conversation with Emma while on my floor shift and we had quickly become friendly. I wanted to find out just how much things had changed since I’d left and Emma was the perfect person to fill me in about that, being part of the old crew. Given that she was one of the trainers who had more smarts than good looks, I’d been surprised to see that she still had a job. So far, it seemed like everyone else of that group of trainers was gone. So why was she still here? I hoped I was about to find out.

  “Yeah, it’s as if I’m at another club altogether,” I said as we entered the always buzzing cafeteria. I’d told Emma that I used to be a member at the club two years ago—before her time—and how the trainers were so…different then for lack of a better word. I didn’t want to use the words “super hot” as that might make Emma uncomfortable. She was a very bright and sweet girl, but with her chunky body, bad skin and stringy, rat-colored hair, she was not attractive. In fact, she appeared even heavier than I could remember. She must be working here still because she’s an excellent trainer, which should be what matters most, I decided. Maybe The Adler Group, the European-based company that had bought out Millennium Partners, Nikkei Sports Club’s former owners, wasn’t as strict on the hotness factor as Rolf had made it seem. And that was definitely a good thing. If not, Adler’s policy was borderline discriminatory.

  “Yeah, you better bring your A game if you wanna survive here,” Emma said. “I myself am working harder than ever to maintain my clientele. All the trainers the new company has hired are great and hard-working, so competition is fierce. The few of us who’re still here from before have definitely had to up our game.” She nudged me and smiled. “You must have some great credentials in addition to being gorgeous. It’s super hard to get a foot in the door here
these days.”

  “Thanks, Emma! Yeah, I’m so glad they hired me.” That was no exaggeration. When I didn’t get a call from Rolf the next day and not the following either, I’d started to bite my nails, worrying about whether I’d actually get to work at the club again. Considering that the onboarding training for new hires started five days later, I’d expected him to call only hours after I left his office or at least the next morning. Maybe he had only been flattering me. But then I did get the phone call finally, thank God, offering me employment. “I guess having a Masters in exercise physiology at Brown did give me an edge.”

  My diploma from Brown University was the only document in addition to my driver’s license and social security card Jose had forged for me.

  Emma looked impressed. “Wow! Yeah, so you must be as smart as you’re great-looking then. If you’re willing to work as hard as the new trainers, you’ll have a full clientele in no-time.”

  As a new trainer, I was only doing floor shifts at the moment, not actually training anyone yet. Floor shifts involved keeping the gym floors in order and assisting members. Management fed you client leads in the meantime and you were also expected to pick up some of your own and turn them into regular clients during your shifts. If you didn’t get some clients within a few months, you were fired. According to Emma, this policy was even stricter with The Adler Group at the helm. So if I wanted to keep sniffing around here undisturbed, I’d better pick up some clients in the next several days.

  “Hey, why don’t you take that table while I go get us food?” Emma suggested and pointed at a table in the middle of the busy cafeteria. “You still want the chicken stir fry?”

  “Yes, that would be great,” I said and handed her a twenty to pay for my food and drink. Then I took a seat at the table she had indicated.

  I kept my head down even though I should be able to relax now; so far, none of the old trainers and members I used to know had recognized me and many of them had gotten a good look. But I still needed to be careful. Having to lose the glasses, I didn’t look quite as different as I would have liked. Maybe one of the club’s weirdos—general eccentrics and people much too loud and outspoken for my taste—would see me and, thinking I reminded them of Annika, yell it out for the world to hear. That might be all that was needed for others—people who knew Cardoza—to view me in a different light and begin to wonder about me. As I discreetly took in everyone in the cafeteria, searched for potential suspects—anything to lead me on the right path—I also supported my face in my hands.

  Lively energy filled the air. The sounds of jaunty laughter and chattering voices cut through the space as well as clinking silverware and scraping chairs. A couple of kids were fighting about something at a table while what might be their mother or nanny perhaps told them to be quiet. A whiff of salmon, lemon and balsamic vinaigrette reached me and I soon discovered where it came from; someone right next to me was eating his fish with a generous side of leafy greens.

  As my eyes moved through all the commotion, they did a double take when they reached an unfamiliar, sandy blond man with a thin, scruffy beard. He was looking right at me and he did not seem at all pleased with what he saw. But the second I noted his gaze on me, he lowered it toward the big newspaper spread over the table where he sat alone.

  I took him in. He appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties and while handsome and with a well-built physique, I didn’t get the sense that he was another of the many new trainers at the club. Not only did he have an air of corporate professional to him, but he wore a brown, formal sweater and dress pants that further reinforced my assumption. Trainers rarely lunched in outfits other than some type of relaxed, athletic gear.

  I willed him to return my stare so I could figure out why he’d seemed so annoyed with me, but he insisted on keeping his gaze firmly on the newspaper now. As far as I could tell, he was still irked because he appeared to be scowling. What was his problem?

  Did he recognize me?

  In that case, did he recognize me as Annika, the Swedish trainer, or as Nick’s wife? If the latter, he must have something to do with Nick’s death.

  Just the thought of this caused fury tempered with a heap of anxiety to stream through my veins. The way he had glowered at me suggested he had some interest in me and not in a good way. I inhaled quietly through my nose to steady the sudden churning in my stomach.

  “Yeah, that one’s pretty cute,” Emma said and placed a bottle of water before me. “In a moody, gruff kind of way.”

  I jerked so hard the table shook slightly at her sudden appearance. Turning toward her, I couldn’t help but chuckle at my overreaction, then I rolled my eyes at myself.

  “Who’s that guy?” I asked, keeping my voice down even though the mystery man was too far away to be able to hear us. And even if he had been seated right next to our table, the buzz in the big cafeteria was loud enough to drench out our conversation. The grim expression on his face made me uneasy, which was why I’d felt compelled to use the unnecessary caution.

  Emma shrugged. “I have no idea. Never seen him before. Could be someone from ABC News having lunch here. They often come here what with their offices being across the street. Or from one of the other businesses around here. Lately this cafeteria has been gaining in popularity among professionals in the area. I definitely don’t think he works here.”

  “I see,” I said, eager to switch the subject. The more I looked at him now—we were both practically staring at the man, who kept ignoring us—the more unsettling I found his presence. I wished that I had never noticed him in the first place. I was suddenly convinced he had something to do with Nick’s death and that he knew who I really was.

  Why else would he be glaring at me like that?

  Goosebumps formed on my arms as the unease kept expanding within me, which annoyed me since I should really be pleased to have gotten a lead so quickly. It had soon dawned on me that, while my gut told me the answer to Nick’s death would be found in New York City, I was still fumbling in the dark, having no idea what to look for. Besides, this guy would hardly do anything to me in broad daylight, in front of so many witnesses. I was armed myself and a very good shot was he to try something.

  Yes, spotting this man is a good thing, Gabi, I told myself in my head. It means you can get your revenge sooner rather than later. That was what you came for in the first place, you silly girl! If you can just make sure he doesn’t get to you before you get to him, you’re set.

  But thinking these thoughts didn’t make me feel much calmer. What was going on? Had Nick’s murder made me lose all the confidence I’d gained while working for the LAPD as well as the FBI? Not that I’d been insecure before, but successfully taking down gun and knife-wielding crooks twice your size and dealing with psychopathic criminals in high stress situations tended to make you believe in yourself like never before. I had proven both to my superiors and to myself that I was an excellent cop who could defend herself well while solving tough, dangerous cases. Because of my efforts in taking down Cardoza, I’d been able to skip several ranks and been promoted to level two detective as soon as I returned from New York. I was the first officer in the LAPD who’d climbed the ladder that swiftly.

  Emma smiled at me, her round face lit with excitement. “You like him? He’s definitely hot. Looks like he could be Swedish. He reminds me of a trainer who used to work here. Of course, she was female. Still, he has that look.”

  It took all I had to control the urge I had to stare at her. That just had to have been a totally random comment. There hadn’t been an ounce of sarcasm in Emma’s tone and her face remained innocent-looking. Yes, of course it was just random… I really shouldn’t be that surprised; everyone used to tell me that I, as Annika, looked so incredibly Swedish, which I had found hilarious since I was Latina, albeit a light-skinned one.

  “He’s pretty hot,” I said, “but I don’t think he’s Swedish. He looks more Eastern European to me.”

  “If we know his
name, we should be able to determine where he’s from. We can always ask the front desk people”—she nodded at the front desk visible from where we sat—“if he’s a member or just a guest. He’d have to sign the list there to get in here for lunch as a guest. They might remember him if we do it now. You want me to go ask them?”