Closer than ever, but still miles apart, when the two best friends Basil and Spencer are sprung onto each other during overlapping cases, everything around them burns, and they begin to realise maybe they are not over their connection just yet.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Music thumped loudly and Basi's lower body swayed as she got into the character she was playing. This was more than acting to her. This was more than playing a three-dimensional character. This wasn't just dialogues and fake emotions. No matter how much disgust and anger she felt inside of her, she needed to pull out emotions from even deeper than her skin. She didn't just need to embody the mind and body of Cassie Adams, she needed to dissolve into her and mend to every last bit of her soul.
Basil was Cassie Adams and if she even by chance slipped back into being Basi again, then she and countless other undercover agents working with her could die. Cassie Adams was a stripper in a small-town club in lower West Virginia. Other than being surrounded by mountains, this town was only infamous for one other thing: the unusually large number of local inhabitants that had suspicious relations with the Bratva.
Anyone local to the town would know that the surrounding mountains were near impossible to navigate but news had flown in saying that drugs were being smuggled into the city through tunnels wide enough to fit human bodies.
More specifically holes made to fit human female and children.
Chills flushed down her spine as she recalled the dark, tight tunnels. It pained her to think of the women and children who could have possibly been trafficked through those tunnels out of the state. A feeling stronger than pain coursed through her. Pain was irrelevant in the face of anger.
Oh yes, anger was the one that she had to fight against.
Years and years of fighting and every single time Basi went undercover again she felt like she was barely scraping the surface of humanity's vilest atrocities.
She breathed in deeper and banged her head back against the locker. She didn't have the time to deal with this anger now. She had more important things to do first.
Her music of the night boomed out loud through the speakers that were attached in the back room.
She snapped her eyes open. She waited two more seconds, forcing herself to breathe calmly. In and out.
In and out.
And then she spun out. In the most elegant balletesque move possible, keeping her entire weight on the tip of her right toe, she twirled to the centre of the stage. There was a shiny pole, cleaned and restored back to its jewel-like glory.
With her back against it, she gave the patrons of the club a glittering smile. They cheered at her, many of them already throwing cash onto the stage. She spotted some ones, a few tens.
She moved with the beat. Her hips ground to the base of the music and her legs went up and around the pole with the thrum of the guitar. With her heels hooked around the steel, she let go of the pole and strained her body to hold straight. Her core burned and her legs shook. Yet she sent all the men, who were staring at her with wide eyes and gleeful smiles, a wink that she knew they would remember for life. Her clothes started to come off.
