She swallowed and partially shook her head. “This isn’t your last op.” From the beginning, she’d had the feeling he was barreling toward a rough ending, and everything in her wanted to save him. For a smart girl, she sure had some dumb ideas sometimes, but that was life.
“We’ll see.”
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, taking in the white gold, charmed although she didn’t want to be. “But way too expensive.”
He shrugged and settled it around her neck, expertly fastening the chain in the back, his fingers warm on her skin. “I thought the design was pretty and you’d like it. Plus, it works for this op.”
The jewelry was light but present, encircling her neck with a feeling she couldn’t quite identify. To cover her confusion, she peered in the sack, needing to regain some control. “No cuffs this time.”
“Agreed. You need your arms free in case we have to fight our way out. The collar shows enough ownership that no dom will bother you.” He tossed the bag back into the car and gently shut the door, his gaze warm on the necklace. “The wolf really does suit you.”
Ownership? “Whoa. Wait a sec.”
One of his dark eyebrows rose. “It’s fine if you can’t go undercover, but it’s all or nothing here. You’re in or out.”
For the first time, doubt ticked through her determination. She had friends who lived the lifestyle, and she understood why it worked for them, but it wasn’t her thing. Instead of letting doubt take over, she lifted her chin. “I’ve been undercover before, and I can do this.” Sure, last time she went under was as a swim coach to bust a circle of boosting athletes, but still. How hard could this be?
He lowered his head, settling his black mask over the top part of his face. “If we go in that house, I won’t let either one of us blow the op. You need to understand that.”
She set her sparkly pink mask in place, making sure she could see. “I’ll play my part, Wolfe.” What that entailed, she wasn’t sure. As he took her hand, his warm and callused, the first shiver wandered down her back.
* * *
Wolfe couldn’t get rid of the itch at the base of his neck as he led Dana into the stark white great room, where a woman wearing pasties and nothing else handed him a menu listing locations and activities. He glanced down to read. “Fire play after midnight, huh?” Keeping his gaze impassive, he glanced back at Dana. “Maybe we should try that.”
To her credit, she kept herself from rolling her eyes. Her pink lips twitched in almost a smile, and it hit him that she wasn’t remotely afraid of him or this op. Smart girl when it came to him, not so smart when it came to the fact that somebody had tried to kill her the other night. That fact didn’t seem to be registering with her. At the thought, something must’ve settled on his face, because she lost the amusement and the sub at the door took two steps back. Good.
He kept his jaw hard and then turned to survey the environment.
Like at the last party, the main floor had been cleared to provide a place to dance, and several couples were gyrating to a hard, rhythmic song, one couple pretty much going at it against the far wall. His ears heated as if someone had a scope on him.
A sharp slap echoed from a room upstairs and then a cry. Maybe of passion or maybe not.
Dana jumped, and her hand tightened in his.
They definitely shouldn’t look in on the fire play later. Her hand trembled slightly, and Wolfe paused to see if she wanted to leave, but movement toward the back door caught his eye. A couple he’d never seen was snuggled up on a duvet in the corner, but the guy seemed to be scoping the place behind a plain green mask. The tat peeking out beneath his collar was of some sort of crest. Interesting.
Wolfe made a mental note to find out more about the guy and then looked through a sweeping archway to a darkened kitchen with low blue mood lighting, “Let’s check out the bar.” He needed her calmer than she was to get through this, but they both had to keep their faculties.
The mask over his eyes was bugging him, but in case there were cameras, he needed to keep it on. Mask or not, anybody he’d met before would recognize him because of his size, but he didn’t want to be recorded.
She tottered on her high heels but quickly regained her balance as they wound through the crowd to the bar. He clocked an exit to the north that led to a backyard and a side door to the east that no doubt went to the garage. The counters had been wiped clean to leave room for bottles and glasses, so no knife block. Experience told him knives would be in one of the drawers near the sterling-silver high-end range with dual oven doors. The thing probably cost more than he made in a year. He ordered two beers from the buxom bartender. “I’ll open them,” he said.
She reached down and then plunked two bottles on the counter. “Glasses?”
“No.” He reached for the bottles and twisted off the tops.
Dana edged closer, leaning up to whisper, “I don’t like beer.”
“I know. Don’t drink,” he replied, handing one of the bottles to her. The itch at the base of his neck was getting more irritating, and they had to be ready to run or fight.
“Wolfe.” It wasn’t a surprise when Trentington angled his way, recognizing him even while wearing a mask.
“Nice place you’ve got here.” Wolfe settled his hand at Dana’s nape.
Trentington, wearing a furry mask that made him look like a tiger, ordered a Scotch. “Thanks. It’s nice to see you with such an intriguing lady. I love the pink mask.”
Wolfe leaned against the side wall, hopefully looking casual. “I’d hate to risk her safety, considering somebody was shot at the last party. What do we know?”
