Page 77

A minute later, through the door, I hear Scarlett talking to Brody.

“Thank you for saving me. That was so scary,” she says, her voice wobbly. “I was enjoying a sunset snorkel. A rip current pulled me out.”

Brody grumbles in annoyance. A few seconds later, the bathroom door opens. Scarlett slips in with a towel and a pink and white floral dress a crew member must’ve given her. Now I’m chest-to-chest with a wet Scarlett. A half-naked, dripping-wet Scarlett.

“What happened to your dress?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

She blinks at me innocently as she towels off her hair. “It must’ve slipped off in the water.”

I swallow. “You had a bikini on under that?”

“Did it not look like I did?”

A rush of heat shoots up my neck. “I—no, yes, I don’t know. I wasn’t looking.” I clear my throat, accidentally looking down at her legs. “What happened to your knife?”

“Sacrifices had to be made,” she says, sounding disappointed.

She does, however, still have the snorkel set. “So you were serious about that sunset swim, then?” I glance at her neck. “Your necklace. It’s gone.”

“Is it?” She leans closer to me and reaches into my jacket pocket. She dangles the earpiece and necklace in front of my face. She secures her necklace around her neck and jiggles her earpiece in place, covering her ear with her wet hair. “I had to be careful. Gifts from you are so rare,” she says, turning to the mirror to look at herself and gasping. “Lambros! I look like a wet raccoon! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Mascara’s running down her cheeks, and her hair’s clinging to her neck, but honestly? She’s even more radiant now with the natural glow of an operation going according to plan.

“I don’t know what wet raccoons look like,” I answer.

Scarlett points to her face. “This!” She wets her fingers and wipes under her eyes. “Who snorkels with a full face of makeup? Okay, it’s fine,” she says. I can practically hear her mind working out an explanation. “I was coming from dinner and didn’t want to wait since the sun was already going down. I don’t care about ruining my makeup or looking like drowned wildlife.” She nods once. “I can live with that story. What do you think?”

“Me?” We’ve never collaborated on our covers before. “Yeah, that’s convincing.”

“Great.” She slips the cotton dress over her head, the fabric sticking to her wet skin. “Would you mind?”

I turn away. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking.”

Scarlett laughs. “No, Lambros, I need help.”

I suck in a breath and close my eyes, which I think better of. If I can’t see, I won’t know where to touch. I open my eyes, meeting hers just above the neckline of the dress.

“Hi.” Her arms are both up in the air, bent slightly at the elbows.

“Hey,” I murmur, analyzing how to best approach this. “This really got twisted.”

“Operations are bound to at some point, but we made it.”

I smile. “No, I mean this. I think the back is in the front.”

I take the bunched fabric in my hands and shift it around, my hands grazing under her arms and past her waist. At this point, Scarlett can take over and finish dressing herself. But she doesn’t. She keeps her hands above her head, waiting for me to do it all. Our eyes haven’t left each other’s this entire time, and suddenly, it’s obvious the dress isn’t the only thing that’s gotten twisted tonight.

I can’t pinpoint where, exactly, our rivalry morphed into friendship, or whatever it is you call people you only see once a year, but our relationship now isn’t what it used to be. And standing here, in this small bathroom on a boat far from shore in the middle of an operation, feels perfect for this realization. Scarlett and I may be undercover, but it’s also when we’re the truest versions of ourselves to each other. Trusting and relying on one another, risking it all, and doing the very thing that makes us feel alive.

I straighten out the dress until it gives way and clears her hips. The fabric falls just below her knees.

“Thanks,” she says, the word barely coming off her lips.

The boat rocks. Scarlett grabs me for balance. It brings us right back to the moment, to why we’re here at all. I can’t justify my sacrifices by staying here with Scarlett in this boat bathroom, even if that’s the only thing I want to do.

Scarlett finger-combs her hair. “I’m going to befriend someone nice-looking while you make the exchange. Stay in my line of sight.”

“Okay. Bye, random snorkeler I’ve never seen before,” I say, letting her get a thirty-second head start before I jog to the upper deck, present in hand. I wind through the crowd of people I recognize from both the Durands and the FBI. Everyone’s dancing the evening away with their plus-ones.