CHAPTER 2 #2
Tae is the youngest of our team. He’s twenty-five, and looks just like a K-pop star. All silky black and red hair, dark eyes, and angelic features. He hates when people are infatuated by his looks, so of course, I’m going to give him so much shit for this.
“You got hit on the head?” Tae asks, and she nods while he is already checking her pupils and any other signs of concussion.
Bjorn and I sweep the back of the room. I check the closet, clear. Bjorn checks the bathroom, clear.
“Hostage secured,” Logan says into his radio. “Leif, get us out of here.”
“On it, boss.”
Logan holsters his weapon and gives the teen a firm squeeze on the shoulder. “Come on, kid. Ready to go home?”
The teen collapses against Logan’s chest, crying hard and repeating the word “thank you” over and over again.
— ¤ —
Night of the Gala
The Harknett HQ has turned into a messy dressing room divided by a very distinct line: “The Masquerade Team” versus “The Extraction Team.”
On one side of the room, Bjorn, Logan, Tae, and I are standing in front of full-length mirrors, getting dressed. And since the gala has a “Masquerade Burlesque” theme, we are wearing the hottest costumes I’ve seen in years.
I mean, even Logan looks like a mob boss.
He’s wearing charcoal dress trousers that make his gray eyes pop, a fitted black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and over the shirt, he has thick leather suspenders.
He looks freaking awesome.
Me? I’m wearing a sheer, long-sleeved button-down that leaves nothing to the imagination, tucked into high-waisted dress pants, also with silk suspenders.
And well… I guess I accidentally unlocked a new kink because being dressed in this outfit is doing it for me.
On the other side of the room, the vibes are completely different. Leif, Law, and Knox are strapping Kevlar vests over their chests and sharpening some knives.
Leif shoves a Glock into a thigh holster while looking at us with pure disdain.
“I still don’t get it. Why can’t I go to the gala but Bjorn can? He can’t even go undercover; everyone knows who he is.”
“True, but your brother is a notorious hedonist. No one will find it the least bit odd to see him at a gala like this,” says Law, while covering his copper-red hair with a black cap. “It’s practically his natural habitat.”
I smirk at Leif. “Aww, jealous you can’t party?”
“Yes! Maybe I could go for a bit and pretend to be Bjorn. It’s not like anyone can tell my face apart from my idiot brother’s.”
Bjorn ties his ashy blond hair into a man bun and puts on a gorgeous pair of low-slung black trousers.
He is skipping the shirt entirely, adding only a cropped, open vest that leaves his tattooed torso on display.
While Leif’s skin is a walking forest of pines and wolves, Bjorn’s body is covered in Viking runes.
Well… mostly.
The only modern ink on him is the Monaco F1 racetrack on his ribs, Spa on one calf, and Suzuka on the other.
And that’s actually how most people can tell them apart, because without the tattoos, they’d be reflections.
“Sorry, bror.” Bjorn winks at his twin. “No one can be me, but me.”
“Ugh… you’re insufferable.”
“I might be insufferable… but at least I’m going to the party,” Bjorn says, and we both burst out laughing.
Leif, officially done with our shit, grabs a roll of black electrical tape off the gear table and chucks it at Bjorn’s head. The door to the armory room slides open. Alexios comes in, and without looking up from his tablet, he catches the tape mid-air, inches from hitting the Swedish twin’s face.
I swear, the man is a glitch in the Matrix.
He is walking around in the body of a Greek god: light brown hair falls to his shoulders in loose waves, framing a face that looks chiseled in marble by freaking Michelangelo, all sharp lines, a straight nose, and piercing blue eyes. … but inside? He is the biggest nerd on the planet.
The man has a better chance of hacking the Pentagon with a toaster and a plastic straw than of successfully flirting with a woman without hyperventilating.
“Reflexes, gentlemen,” Alexios grumbles, tossing the tape back to a stunned Leif. “Now, focus. We have only one shot to make this right.”
He taps a button on a remote, and the large monitors on the wall flare to life with satellite maps and blueprints. “This is the West estate in the Hamptons.”
“That’s where we need to find the informant? It looks like a fortress,” Tae says as he stops buttoning his translucent black silk shirt halfway down his chest and tucks it into fitted leather pants.
“It’s because it is one.” Alexios pulls a laser pointer out of his pocket, which is shaped like a miniature Star Wars lightsaber, and points the red beam at the screen.
“It’s impossible to hack anything from the house, but I will try to hack any device in this area that’s from either the guests or the entertainment. ”
He points at a jagged line on the map near the water.
“If things go south, these are your exit strategies. The east wing has a servant’s corridor that leads to the cliffside. It’s tight, but it exits directly onto the beach where Leif and Knox will have the boat waiting.”
We all take a few minutes to memorize the layout and nod when we’re done.
“Now, on who to avoid at the party.”
Alexios swipes the screen to the picture of a man with tanned skin, white hair, a small nose, and an empty stare.
“Elijah West. Sixty-two,” he says, pointing the red laser dot right between the man’s hazel eyes.
Ha! Classy.
“He has five ex-wives, three of them deceased, and three kids.”
Knox is in the corner, his dark green eyes concentrated as he shoves a serrated knife into the sheath strapped to his boot. “Three dead wives? Let me guess, they were all heart attacks?”