"My mom returns in a week."
He nodded. "I remember."
"If this isn't over by then?—"
"I know. I'm trying to come up with other solutions."
My mind spun, panic and fear and anxiety all at once. And then that breaking point I'd been waiting for came. Too fast. I didn't even realize it at first.
"What if I try?" I pushed up from the chair.
He halted and spun to look at me. "Try what?"
"Getting into the club and recording."
"No," he said immediately as if my words burned him.
"Hear me out."
He shook his head. "Absolutely not."
"They know you're a man. They'll be expecting you no matter the disguise," I argued. "But I'm a woman. I can make myself look different. A little makeup and I'll be unrecognizable. I can pretend to be a new hire. Valmont will never suspect me." The crazy ideas in my head started coming out of my mouth like vomit. "He thinks I'm scared. And I'm not anymore." It was a lie. I was scared, but not for myself. I was scared for Seven. He'd been putting his life on the line for me far too long now. I couldn't let this drag out for much longer. I didn't want anything to happen to him.
"No," he repeated stubbornly. "You're not trained for this. You're not even—" He stopped. "It's not happening."
"I've been training with you."
"That was self-defense. Not infiltration."
"I'm doing this," I raised my voice. "If not for me, then for the people around me who are in danger."
He froze. I thought for a second he'd snap at me, but instead, he went so still it terrified me.
"People get killed for less than what you're talking about."
"I've already been killed once," I snapped. "You know that. They took my dignity and my self-respect three years ago, then they made it impossible to punish them, and then they ruined my life. But I'm still here. Half dead. And I'm tired of it. I need to see this through. I need to make sure they don't come for my family." I paused to let my breathing even out. I couldn't remember when I was this angry. "First, my mom. Next, it could be my foster sisters, then their partners. No, I'm not doing this whole waiting in the safehouse thing anymore."
He looked at me, really looked, and I saw that same spark from the other night, the thing that intimidated and fascinated me.
"I won't let you do it," he said.
"You think I can't handle a fucking nightclub?"
"It's not a nightclub. You can't just leave if thing go sideways."
"You can't stop me," I replied, but even as I did, my stomach turned at the thought.
He stepped in my direction, close enough to touch. "I can and I will."
"And I want this to be over. So you either let me help you or I will investigate him myself."
He was quiet for what seemed like forever before he said softly, "I won't get a client involved."
"I am already involved," I whispered back. My voice trembled as I inched forward. The distance between us shrank to nearly nothing. "And I don't think I'm just a client anymore," I added.
He didn't reply, but he didn't deny it either.
Seven left before dawn.
