The Trap (Agent Dallas 3) by L. J. Sellers

as she liked drinking—and often used it as a tool to extract information—she didn’t care for hangovers. It was also important to stay sharper than her targets. After vacillating about the risk, she added shorthand notes into her phone:
RPea/420 and pson sup T
. Hopefully, the notes wouldn’t make any sense to someone searching her phone—if it came to that. They might not even make sense to her when she finally got back to her apartment and laptop to write a report. For each UC assignment, the department gave her a new computer with files and photos to support the background story they’d created. This time she had several Word files for books she’d supposedly ghostwritten and real photos of her in Flagstaff and Tucson.
    Dallas hurried back to join the group. Rock music played, and Abby was dancing. The men were talking sports, so Dallas joined Abby on the dance floor, loving the opportunity to cut loose. They partied for another hour with no more shoptalk, and Aaron was the first to call it a night. He excused himself and headed upstairs.
    “Let’s see if we made the evening news.” Luke muted the music and turned on the TV.
    They waited through the end of a program and a few minutes of world news about ISIS and Ebola before the newscaster brought the focus back to Virginia. The congressman’s fundraiser came first, with the newscaster saying, “A group of activists hijacked the event and broadcast their own message of justice reform.” The reporter also highlighted how the doors had been locked and called it “reckless,” implying the police could press kidnapping charges.
    “Is that true?” Cree asked.
    “No.” Luke shook his head. “It’s just hype to juice up the audience.”
    Dallas wasn’t as sure. Holding a person against their will was kidnapping. But she and Abby hadn’t sealed the ballroom completely, leaving the access to the kitchen area open. She didn’t comment though.
    The newscaster played a segment of Aaron’s recorded message and asked viewers to call if they recognized the voice.
    “Oh hell.” Luke clicked off the TV and looked at Abby. “Don’t worry. The station will be flooded with names, but none of them will be Aaron’s. And now people are thinking about justice reform.”
    The room was quiet, the party over.
    Dallas stood and said, “I assume no one’s taking me home tonight.” She laughed. “Luke, you couldn’t even walk straight on your last trip to the bathroom.” Good thing she’d brought a backpack with a toothbrush and a fresh shirt.
    “Hey, that was my full bladder making me off balance.” He winked.
    “Right.” Dallas looked at Abby, deferring to her as the woman of the house. “Where do I sleep?”
    “I’ll show you.” Abby got up, staggered, then collapsed back on the couch.
    Dallas laughed again, feeling a little lightheaded herself. “Just tell me which room upstairs.”
    “The one in the middle,” Luke said, helping Abby back up. He put an arm around his girlfriend and walked her toward the hall.
    Dallas started up the stairs, and Cree followed. At her bedroom door, he grabbed her arm. “Tara, I have to tell you something.” His speech was slurred, and a little spit drooled down his chin.
    “What?”
    “Be careful.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Remember when you told us at the rock swing that you had lock-picking skills?” It took him a few tries to finally get it all out.
    A shiver of concern. “Yes. What about it?”
    “They want you to use them, and it’s risky.”
    “Doing what?”
    “I can’t tell you, but you’ll know soon enough.” Cree staggered to the room next door.
    Dallas was intrigued, but too drunk to worry about it at the moment. She ducked into the bathroom on the second floor and brushed her teeth. When she came out, Luke was waiting in the hall. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in for a hot, salty kiss. Sparks shot through her, and Dallas kissed him back. Before she could decide how far she would