Her skin is warm against mine, heartbeat steady. I don’t kiss her, don’t need to. The silence does the work.
When she pulls back, she’s all mission again. “You ready?”
“Always.”
She stands before the mirror, fastening the strap of her black gown. It’s backless, cut high on the thigh, the kind of dress that makes breathing optional.
I tug at the collar of my tuxedo, feeling more exposed than I ever did with a weapon in my hand.
She catches me watching her in the reflection. “Problem, Bishop?”
“Yeah. You look like trouble I can’t afford.”
She turns slowly, lips curving. “You say that every time.”
“And it keeps being true.” For a heartbeat, the air between us hums again, like the safehouse all over, except sharper, dressed in danger instead of sheets.
She smirks. “Try not to shoot anyone unless they really deserve it.”
“Define, really.”
“Anyone who touches me.”
“Then it’s gonna be a long night.”
“Focus,” she says finally. “We get in, pull the files, and get out before anyone realizes we’re not who we say we are.”
“Right. Professional.” I nod my head in agreement.
She smirks. “You’re not very good at professional.”
“Neither are you.” I shoot back with a wink.
She slips her hand into mine, nails brushing my knuckles. “Then let’s fake it together.”
The gala is hosted at the Wilshire Regency. The kind of place that glitters like sin in its glass form, with marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and too much perfume trying to mask the stench of wealth.
Rebel’s arm hooks through mine as we cross the lobby. Every pair of eyes follows her. Can’t blame them. She’s lethal, wrapped in elegance.
“Smile,” she murmurs. “We’re rich and bored.”
“Rich and bored,” I echo, forcing a grin.
“You look like you’re casing the joint.”
“I am casing the joint.”
“Try harder.”
A waiter passes with champagne. She takes two flutes, hands me one. “We blend, then break.”
Divine’s voice hums faintly in our earpieces.“The target’s name is Lawrence Gentry, regional banker, board member for Emerge Auditing. His encrypted terminal contains all the master passcodes. Your window’s fifteen minutes once he logs in.”
Rebel nods slightly. “I’ll handle the terminal.”
“I’ll handle anyone watching,” I say.
We move separately once the music swells. Rebel heads toward the side hall near the security offices, me blending with a cluster of donors near the bar. Every instinct screams trap. Too many guards. Too many eyes.
