I grab my drink and drain it in three swallows. Ice clinks against my teeth. The vodka burns, but it gives me something to focus on instead of the fact that I just compromised my mission. I could get fired over a mistake like this. Worse, I could get killed and my body dumped in a body of water, never to be seen again.
His eyes move past my shoulder.
I turn just in time to see the exchange happening between GrayCoat and Navy Coat. A quick brush of hands near the back corner booth.
I'm moving toward them before they're done, cutting through the crowd, eyes on the restrooms as if that's my intent.
Navy Coat turns perfectly, and I force him to bump into me.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry—" I catch his arm to steady myself, leaning in with a smile that's all apology and charm. My other hand slides along his coat, fingers finding the envelope tucked inside his jacket pocket. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
He blinks down at me, caught off guard.
"No harm done." His accent is thick—Eastern European, maybe.
I let my hand linger on his sleeve, tilting my head like I'm admiring the hell out of him. "You sure? I feel terrible."
"Really, it's fine." He's already dismissed me, eyes scanning the room for his exit.
"Well, if you're sure." I step back, the envelope now pressed against my ribs under my arm. "Have a good night."
He nods, already walking away.
I turn and slip into the back hall before my hands start shaking.
The music fades. My pulse is everywhere—throat, wrists, pounding behind my eyes. The envelope feels warm and completely out of place against my skin.
This wasn't the plan.
I was supposed to watch. Not lift the goddamn envelope myself.
Footsteps echo behind me.
"Hey!"
My stomach flips as I turn to see Teakwood.
Mary Joseph.
At least it's not one of the coats.
I push through the side door into the warehouse section, heels clicking loudly against concrete.
"Stop."
No fucking chance, buddy.
"Give me the envelope."
I keep walking. "Ask nicely."
"Now. I won't chase you."
"You already are," I shout back over my shoulder, low-key loving this little chase.
I stop and turn because I want to see his face. Want to know if he feels it too—this sick, twisted pull that doesn't make sense.
That's when I realize he's closer than I expected. Close enough that I can see the muscle ticking in his jaw, the way his chest rises and falls too fast.
