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“Not quite the reaction I was looking for,” I mumble as we drive down the Kuihelani Highway heading southeast. We’re late, and right now, the last thing I need is to argue about logistics.

“Don’t do this to me, Lambros. I’m always the girlfriend,” Scarlett says from the passenger seat as she fiddles with the radio, landing on IZ’s version of “What a Wonderful World.”

“Not true. Last time I saw you, you were a security guard, and before that, Elvis. Your logic is flawed.” I check my rearview and side mirrors. “How about I put it this way: I’m your boyfriend.”

This gets a bigger reaction out of her. “I can handle a bigger role. Of all people, I thought you’d know that.”

“I’m not the one assigning them,” I defend. “Take it up with Agent Hall.”

Special Agent Hall, who we both last worked with in Chicago three years ago. She moved off undercover work a while back and is now running this operation. She and her team are monitoring tonight’s festivities from the seafood restaurant near the harbor. They’ve been here for days, before the weather got bad and delayed our timeline.

“I won’t have to be the girlfriend if we miss the boat,” she says, eyeing the speedometer. “Punch it.”

“I’m already going ten over.”

“Go fifteen.”

“Getting pulled over would slow us down more,” I remind her.

Scarlett looks out her window at the palm trees and crosses her arms. “Did I really have to wear this dress? It’s so tight.”

I sneak a look. I can’t help it. She’s the one who mentioned the dress. I’m simply looking at what she’s talking about. It’s a floor-length red silk slip dress that dips low in front but even lower in the back. It hugs each of her curves, leaving nothing to my imagination. Not that I’d ever admit out loud that she’s ever appeared in my imagination.

“I didn’t choose it,” I mumble. And I wouldn’t have. All that dress is going to do is make her stand out more.

“It looks like lingerie. Guess it makes sense since the dress wasn’t even for me.”

No, it was for Agent Lynn, who got called onto another case last minute.

“Hall thought it’d be risky for you to do this since you’ve been on location with these people,” I explain.

“In disguise! It’s fine, I get it,” she says, her tone teasing. “I was second choice.”

“Just know that it wasn’t my call. In every scenario, you’re my number one.” This comes out way too intensely.

Pink fills Scarlett’s cheeks. She angles her head down and swishes one of the long pieces of fabric down by her legs. I catch a scent of her coconut body lotion and the self-tanner she applied on the plane in the name of making our cover believable. To look as though we didn’t just roll in from somewhere cold and sunless.

“I hate going in unarmed,” she says. She parts the slit of her dress to expose her thigh, which has a thin holster strapped around it holding her fine-knifed blade. “Well, not completely.”

I smile. “You’d be dangerous with a butter knife.”

She basks in my words. “I’ve missed that, your flattery mixed with a dare.”

“You look incredible. Is that what you want to hear?”

“You already said that when you first saw me.”

“I must mean it, then.” I nod toward the back seat. “I’ve got something else for you to wear.”

Scarlett holds her hand over her chest. “For me? I turned twenty-eight four months ago, but my belated present timeline is flexible.” She reaches to grab a narrow box, opening it without fanfare. “A sapphire necklace. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s synthetic with a camera embedded in the center. Mic’s on the back of it.”

“You can’t even tell,” she says, twisting the gem in the light.

“When you’re in the world I’ve been in, there are certain skills you pick up,” I share. “Remember Bedford? He got really good at counterfeit.”

She puts on the necklace, the sapphire glistening against her skin. “What’d you learn?”