Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“You’re wearing that ?” Oliver pointed at Mya, shooting her a disapproving glare as Sydney joined the two of them in the hallway. She’d opted to get ready in Mya’s suite, so they’d kicked Oliver out an hour ago.
“As opposed to wearing nothing?” Mya asked, clearly loving to goad this man.
“You may as well be wearing nothing,” Oliver accused as Sydney closed the door and leaned against it while observing their back-and-forth.
“Those dresses make you both look like exotic backup dancers. Every man in the place will”—Oliver waved a hand in the air—“well, you know.”
“No, I don’t think I do. You should tell us,” Mya said, batting her lashes innocently. When he only scowled, she gently patted his chest twice as though to say there, there, then stepped away.
Oliver had on black slacks and a white button-down shirt. His brown hair was styled and slicked back, and he looked part mafia, part businessman tonight.
Then again, none of us are supposed to look like ourselves. Sydney lowered her focus to the gold metallic knit dress, with its plunging cowl neck. She was tempted to do a little twirl in her gold rhinestone heels, showing off the open back of the bodycon silhouette. But she’d leave the teasing to Mya for tonight. Plus, it was Mya’s job to be the temptress, which was why her matching dress was siren-red.
“I get it, I get it,” Oliver said when Mya spun around like a ballerina with her arms over her head. “You’re?—”
“Sexy? Hot? Gorgeous?” Mya smoothed a hand over her glossy mane of dark hair. She and Sydney had gone vintage glam with their hairstyles, sporting tight curls pulled over one shoulder.
Oliver had yet to close his mouth or use it to assemble words and form sentences after Mya had cut him off.
“Cat still got your tongue?” Mya stepped over and playfully jabbed Oliver in the side with her elbow, freeing him from whatever spell he’d fallen under.
“My tongue is just fine,” Oliver said, his voice strained and deeper than normal. “I’m hoping not to have to kill some asshole sooner than necessary. And you two in those dresses are going to attract a lot of attention.”
“As opposed to the garbage bags we normally wear?” Mya poked back. “Damn, who knew rhinestones made us suddenly so attractive.”
“Sure, sure.” Oliver rolled his eyes.
Sydney fished her phone from her matching clutch and checked the time as they headed to Gray and Camila’s room.
“You rehearse all day?” Oliver asked, tossing a look back at Sydney, who trailed behind the two not-so lovebirds.
“Yeah, we did.” Not quite a lie. Sydney had helped Mya learn the lyrics for a handful of songs, and Mya was a natural. Her voice was better than Sydney’s anyway, as were her acting skills. Between Mya’s seductive renditions of songs from Jorge’s favorite era and that bombshell dress, she was sure to garner the man’s attention. As well as every other guy in the place.
Oliver rapped at Gray’s door, and when he opened up, he looked as dapper as Oliver. Black pants and a black button-down shirt. Hair styled as well instead of hidden beneath a backward ball cap as per the norm for him.
Gray stepped into the hall, letting the door shut behind him. “Camila’s getting dressed in the en suite. She should be out shortly.”
Stowing her phone back in her clutch, Sydney wished for the hundredth time it contained a weapon, but at least Camila’s men were on watch in the hotel. The fact she hadn’t clocked their locations meant they were good at their jobs.
“You two look beautiful,” Gray said with a polite nod.
“See, that’s what you were supposed to say. Not that we look like strippers,” Mya chided, nudging Oliver again.
“Do that one more time, and I just might put you over my knee and—” Oliver left the sentence unfinished and clenched his jaw instead.
Sydney bit back a laugh at the thought of Oliver administering a well-deserved spanking to her friend. Although, Mya might benefit from that. Sydney had thoroughly enjoyed Beckett’s firm palm connecting with her ass cheek last night.
“Yeah, good move shutting your mouth and not crossing that line,” Gray warned.
But so many lines had already been crossed since Beckett and Oliver had shown up on Sunday and crashed her and Mya’s vacation. And now here they were on Wednesday night with an impending deadline and a five-year-old to save.
“Ready for tonight?” Gray asked, redirecting the conversation to the mission at hand, forcing Sydney to discard her emotions and get back on track.
“I think we are,” Sydney replied.
“Can Beckett really handle this? Truly handle it?” Gray caught Sydney’s eyes, a worried look there. “I’d lose my mind if I were him.”
“Same,” Oliver agreed as the elevator doors chimed down the hall, and Sydney turned to see Beckett stepping out.
Mine. That was the first word that popped into her head at the sight of him in those black slacks with a thin gray sweater-type shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and barrel chest. God, the man was handsome, and she loved his sexy, distinguished look. A gentleman, but one that screwed her like a . . .
As Beckett’s long legs carried him their way, he swiped a hand along the side of his dark hair, which was as slick as Oliver’s and Gray’s tonight.
Beckett stopped alongside Oliver, and he tipped his head in greeting. That worn, sad look that clung to his brown eyes was all it took for her to snap back to the reality of their situation.
“Ready?” Camila’s soft voice and the closing of the suite door had Sydney turning in her direction, eager to see what she’d opted to wear tonight. But before she could really appreciate the stunning outfit her new friend was wearing, Gray’s reaction snagged Sydney’s attention.
The man looked like he’d just seen a beautiful woman for the first time in his life as he devoured her with his eyes. Camila was a vision in her black satin wrap dress that hit mid-thigh, and the crisscross style dipped low in front, revealing an ample amount of cleavage.
She’d styled her long hair to hang over one shoulder, exposing one dangly earring. “You’re a knockout.” Sydney didn’t want to get overly optimistic that another woman was catching Gray’s attention. But she could certainly hope, right?
She wasn’t sure if Gray was quite ready to fall in love, but he deserved a little desire and passion in his life. We all do. And she hadn’t realized that until Mexico.
“Let’s do this.” Camila motioned for them to get a move on.
Carter had texted the team twenty minutes ago that the headline singer was considered a no-show, so the plan was falling into place. At least, so far. And one of Camila’s teammates confirmed Jorge’s arrival at the club ten minutes ago and that he was now with Miguel and Camila’s scientist. Jesse and Ivy were at Jorge’s table as well.
Sydney hung back as everyone started toward the elevators, then reached for Beckett’s arm. “You okay?” she whispered.
“No,” he said while turning her way. “But I’ll get through this,” he added in a rougher voice that time.
“I’ve got you,” she promised and gave his arm a quick squeeze.
“Not sure if I deserve that.” His words had her pausing. She caught Mya’s eyes down the hall and waved her off, telling her to head down without them.
“Be there in a second,” she told the others, and Gray nodded before disappearing into the elevator last.
“Why wouldn’t you deserve me?” She assumed that’s what he’d implied, and his hands diving into his pockets and the tight strain of his jaw had her worry catching back up with her. His dark gaze met hers, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
“Because we’re in this situation because of me. Because I was stupid enough to let myself get conned by Cora and?—”
“I hate her for hurting you. For hurting McKenna. But she’s your past.” Sydney reached for his hand and set his palm over her heart. “I’m here. Your present.” Your future?
He smoothed his thumb in small, back-and-forth motions where his hand lay near her breast.
“I’d never hurt you like that,” she found herself promising because, in a matter of days, this man had revived parts of her that’d been dead or lying dormant for years.
“Same,” he whispered, the look in his eyes saying so much more than that one word.
They both nodded in silent understanding and made their way to the club.
Sydney spotted their team two tables away from Jesse’s before her gaze moved to Ivy sitting between him and Miguel. But before Sydney had a chance to truly assess the con artist, the billionaire was on his feet cursing.
What do you mean the singer didn’t show? Jorge hollered in Spanish at a man Sydney assumed was the manager standing next to him.
Sydney sat opposite Beckett, her eyes riveted on Mya sitting next to him. “You ready?” she mouthed. Mya tipped her head in a nervous nod, but she didn’t waste time and stood.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Oliver grabbed Mya’s wrist and tugged, but she ignored him.
“There’s been a change of plans.” Sydney peered at Beckett. “Mya’s going to be singing tonight instead.”
“Excuse me,” Mya called out toward Jorge’s table. “I’d be happy to sing with the band.”
Jorge and the club manager swiveled their focus her way. “Who are you?” the manager asked.
Miguel was on his feet now alongside Jorge, whispering something into his ear as they both studied Sydney’s table.
“You can sing twenties music?” Jorge asked Mya in English.
“Why don’t you be the judge of that?” Mya asked, already playing the role perfectly and sauntering a bit closer to his table.
Jorge said something to the manager, then nodded at Mya. “Go for it, beautiful. Win me over.” He flashed her a smile before taking his seat again.
“Give me a few moments to talk to the band,” Mya requested.
“ Cinco minutos ,” Jorge told her.
“What the hell is happening?” Oliver hissed. “Why is she doing this?”
Before Sydney could explain, Beckett was on his feet and circling the table. He held out a hand for her. “A word, please.”
Sydney stood and accepted Beckett’s palm. He guided her down a dimly lit hallway and pinned her against a door, the wood cold against the exposed skin of her back.
He cocked his head, studying her. “Why?”
“There are several reasons, but honestly, I just couldn’t bring myself to be like Cora,” she whispered. “To sing and seduce. To con.”
Beckett continued to gaze at her silently.
“After the hell you’ve been through . . .” She freed a harsh breath from her lungs before continuing, “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you, and if I were to do that and?—”
Beckett dropped his mouth over hers, stealing her words. He held her face gently while kissing her hard and with so much passion she forgot where they were.
“You,” he said between kisses. “I don’t know what to say.” Another quick kiss before pulling back slightly. “You’re everything to me.”
The sincerity of his words shot her straight in the heart, and her mouth went still against his lips.
Beckett leaned back to catch her eyes as she searched for what to say, but at the sound of the saxophone playing, she turned her head toward the music coming from the dining room.
“We should head back.” He pushed away from the wall. “They were playing this song at Capone last weekend,” he commented as Mya began singing the lyrics Sydney taught her earlier for “It Don’t Mean A Thing.”
The band behind Mya crooned “Do-op, do-op, do-op” just as Sydney and Beckett re-entered the room, and Sydney focused on Jorge, who appeared already enamored by Mya.
Sydney caught Jesse’s eyes as they neared his table, his gaze quickly falling so they didn’t reveal they knew each other. Although, it was hard not to eyeball Ivy, wedged between Jesse and Miguel, and shoot daggers her way.
Beckett placed his palm on Sydney’s back, and his touch helped steady her nerves. He pulled her chair out for her at the table and scooted her in.
When Sydney looked up, she spied Camila tapping at her mouth, and oh . . .
My lipstick. Probably smeared. She quickly dragged a finger beneath her bottom lip in hopes of erasing the evidence of her make-out session with Beckett and nodded her thanks.
When the song ended, Jorge was on his feet applauding enthusiastically, then gestured for Mya to continue. But when he lowered to his seat, his gaze averted to Sydney, sending chills up her spine at his undivided attention. He raised his wineglass her way while talking to the club manager hanging by his table. The manager’s focus fell to Sydney before nodding as if Jorge had given him a directive.
“I think the plan is working,” Camila said when the manager approached their table with two bottles of wine and six glasses.
“Compliments of Se?or Rojas.” The man began uncorking one of the two bottles.
Mya was on her second song now, and her performance was stellar. Thank God for her drama skills. But now Sydney had to get into the undercover groove herself. She wasn’t a fan of drinking on an op, but what choice did they all have right now? Jorge had sent them wine, and if they refused, their plan would quickly fall apart.
“Tell him gracias ,” Sydney replied with a nod to the manager while accepting the glass. She took a small sip of the red, and it was smooth in her mouth. A hint of cherry, which no longer triggered her. She and cherries were good again. She was pretty sure she had Beckett to thank for that. He’d managed to free her mind of any lingering emotional strings still connected to Alice’s betrayal.
“Easy there,” Gray remarked when Oliver polished off half his glass in two large gulps. “You nervous or something?”
Oliver jerked a thumb toward the stage where the band played. “ Mya’s up there, and I’m supposed to be her guy, right? And now there’s a room full of men staring at her like they want to eat her up. I may have to play fisticuffs soon.”
Camila chuckled, the noise barely audible over the music. “Fight, you mean? Defend your manhood if anyone tries to go after your girl?”
“I mean, if I’m playing her boyfriend, shouldn’t I do that?” Oliver knocked back the rest of his wine like it was a tequila shot.
“Men,” Camila said under her breath. “We do want Mya to catch a certain man’s attention,” she reminded Oliver.
“But do we really?” Oliver grimaced and focused back on Mya. “I just have a bad fucking feeling,” he added too low for anyone aside from their table to hear.
And when Sydney looked past Beckett, finding Miguel focused on her again, her stomach squeezed. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Maybe I do too.”