CHAPTER 3
DAMIáN
The West estate in the Hamptons is freaking insane. The two-acre lawn facing the ocean has been transformed into a scene straight out of a fairytale.
Hundreds of elites in couture burlesque gowns mingle under a canopy of floating lanterns that drift against the night sky like low-hanging stars. Everywhere I go, it smells of flowers and roasted meat… Are they even serving meat?
Oh man, I hope they are.
I’m starving.
Everywhere I look, there is excess.
Massive floral arrangements of white orchids and blood-red roses spill over the fountains.
Fire breathers spin torches in the center of the garden, the flames reflecting off the crystal glasses in everyone’s hands.
Even the waiters are part of the show; dressed in gold-threaded vests and satin masks, they move through the crowd offering beautiful cocktails.
How guests see all this opulence and don’t immediately think, ‘Holy fuck, a drug dealer!’ is beyond me.
“Testing comms inside the perimeter,” Alexios’s voice comes through the comms. “Anyone past the second gate, say ‘martini.’”
“Martini,” I whisper, barely moving my lips.
“Check,” Alexios confirms. “Anyone past the pool area, say ‘tequila.’”
“Tequila,” says Tae, in a low murmur.
“Great,” Alexios responds. “Comms are stable inside the premises, but I have no visual on most of the grounds. You’ll have to be extra careful.”
“So we’re blind?” Logan’s voice cuts in.
“Mostly. I’ve hacked the DJ’s laptop webcam… it has a crappy wide-angle view, but it’s all I’ve got.”
“That’s good enough,” says Logan. “Is everyone in position? Phones on hand? Tattoos covered?”
A waiter in a gold mask walks past me, balancing a silver platter. I smile, taking a cocktail from his tray, and I glance at my left hand; the skin is completely bare.
“Mine is buried under three layers of waterproof makeup,” I say, taking a sip. “I feel like a Ken doll.”
With a drink in hand, I turn around and see a server with a red satin mask and a golden tray full of small slices of bread topped with thin cuts of marbled meat and some soy-looking sauce.
“Wagyu Beef Carpaccio Crostini?” he offers, moving the tray closer to me.
“Don’t mind if I do.” I take one of the snacks, shove it in my mouth, and—Holy fuck… this is delicious.
Oh, Dios mío… Wow!
Why do sociopaths always have the best chefs?
The waiter smiles and tries to pass me on the left, but my hand moves involuntarily and stops him in his tracks.
“Ah… ah—” I trip over my words and the server stares at me, unsure if he did something wrong. “I mean, one more of those… if you please?”
“Oh, of course, Sir.”
He moves the precious tray closer, and I take one… then pile it on top of another and end up taking three.
The server looks at me weirdly.
“Pregnant wife. She would murder me if I came back empty-handed,” I lie, and the server nods as if he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Dami, did you just lie about having a pregnant wife?” Knox asks through the comms.
I swallow a whole mouthful, still chewing as I whisper back, “What was I supposed to say? I’m a starving giant, and you’re offering freaking Polly Pocket food?”
I shove the rest of the meat into my mouth and devour it.
“I regret nothing. Those crosi-crosis are incredible.”
“Crostinis, mate,” Law corrects.
“Focus, guys,” Logan says. “Tae, report.”
“In the west lounge,” Tae’s voice sounds over the comms.
I glance toward the lounge entrance and spot him leaning against a golden fireplace, already swirling a glass of whiskey.
He looks more annoyed than usual.
“I’ve had three people ask if I’m a singer or in a drama, and one man tried to touch my waist. I’m currently deciding which of his fingers to break first.”
“I say you start with the middle finger and work your way up,” Bjorn laughs. I can see him; he’s over by the main bar, currently charming the bartender into giving him something flammable. “Leif, how is my beautiful Valkyrie doing?”
“The boat is still floating,” Leif grumbles, probably still annoyed over missing the party. Now, he’s out on the water with Knox, floating somewhere in the ocean. “But the current is picking up. If you guys have to run for it, jump from the eastern cliff. The tide is too high on the beach side.”
“Great, I have—” Bjorn’s voice is cut off by a sharp shriek.
The gasping and screaming are so loud I can hear them through my earpiece and across the garden at the same time.
At the bar, Bjorn is suddenly swallowed by a tsunami of sequins and high heels.
“What was that?” Alexios asks, probably losing his mind because he can’t see anything on the monitors. “Did someone get shot?”
“Bjorn just found a group of F1 fans,” Logan says, taking a sip of his drink.
I watch the mob descend.
It’s like watching piranhas, but with lots of hair and sharper manicures.
A woman in a silver outfit hugs Bjorn and drags him into a kiss. And does he push her away?… Por favor. This is Bjorn Eriksson we are talking about.
As usual, he curls his hand around her waist, dips her, and makes out with her right there in front of the ice sculpture.
“More like fans of his face,” Tae grumbles.
“Is he already snogging someone?” Law laughs, and I swear I can picture his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “What’s it been? Twenty minutes? That’s gotta be a new record.”
“The record is sixteen minutes,” Knox adds.
“Well, we are ridiculously good-looking.”
“We? You might have the same face, but I don’t see you making out with everyone, Leif,” I tease, turning my back to the bar to scan the crowd for the damn ruby earring.
“That’s because I have standards, Dami. Unlike you and my brother, I like forming a connection before having their tongues in my mouth.”
“Any time used to make a connection is wasted time.” I take a small sip of my cocktail and blend into the crowd.
It’s working time!
Ever since we founded Harknett, I’ve always loved the adrenaline, exercise, and traveling that came with the job, but this? Having to infiltrate parties where I get to drink top-shelf alcohol, surrounded by models and tiny food?
Well, this is so much fun.
Unlike Tae and Logan, who look like they want to murder everyone in sight, I feel in my element.
Women flirt with me, flipping their hair, batting false lashes, and checking me out.
Men move closer, slow touches here and there, leaning toward me, making it so I can scan their entire bodies without much effort.
It feels so good.
Or at least it did at first. Because now it’s been over two hours and I’ve seen every type of earring known to man, like diamond studs the size of grapes, golden hoops, emerald drops, blue-thingy jewel drops, any kind of drop… but no sign of those damn rubies.
By now, the ice in my third drink has melted, and my patience is doing the same.
Did something happen to the informant? Could it be that they changed their mind?
“Alexios, I’m halfway through the terrace,” I whisper while pretending to admire a hideous modern art statue. “No sign of our golden ruby earring.”
“Same here,” says Tae.
I slow my pace, taking a long sip of my margarita.
Ugghh… It tastes like water now.
“I have eyes on Elijah West,” says Logan. “He is on the balcony.”
I look up. Standing next to the marble balustrade, overlooking his kingdom like a fucked-up feudal lord, is Elijah West.
Beside him, his wife Serena is in the tightest dress I’ve ever seen, all dipped in gold. She looks less like a person and more like a trophy.
Trophy wife, jajajajajaa… I laugh at my own dumb joke, and an older guest with a judgy vibe stares at me as if I’m crazy.
Ahhh, yeah… Vámonos de aquí.
I change paths and start walking around the massive pool when a claw-like hand grabs my arm.
“You!” a drunk woman shrieks. She’s swaying dangerously in six-inch heels, a martini glass sloshing over her wrist and onto my hand. “You’re gorgeous! Why haven’t you danced with me?”
“I’m so sorry, bonita,” I say, putting on a dazzling smile while trying to untangle her grabby arm. “I’m looking for a friend.”
“We can be your friends,” says another drunk woman behind me. And by the matching floral patterns of their dresses and how grabby they both are, I can tell they came together and that they’ll be a nightmare to shake.
Oh great…
“What’s your name, gorgeous?” the first woman giggles, stumbling into my chest. Her hands are everywhere.
Clumsy, sloppy, and way, way too close.
“Whoa, easy there.” I hold her hands and slide them away as gently as I can without breaking a wrist.
The woman behind me takes advantage of the fact that both of my hands are busy restraining her damn friend and slides her hands into my trousers’ pockets.
“Oh! What’s this?” She gropes me.
Sexual harassment, that’s what this is… and sure, I’m huge, but hands off, lady!
I wiggle away, doing my best not to draw attention from the security guards who are stationed fifteen feet away… But I can’t.
How the hell are these two drunks so strong?
“Yay! Your phone!” She takes the phone out of my pocket and flips it open. “Let me put our number in…”
I turn to see what she took, and my blood runs cold because that thing in her hand is the damn highly-freaking-classified phone I’m supposed to give the informant. “Please give it back.”
“No, I’m adding my number.”
“You can just say it; I have a great memory.” I stretch my hand for the phone, forcing a playful tone I definitely don’t feel. “Please give it back.”
“Catch me for it!” she squeals, backing away toward the edge of the infinity pool. She’s fumbling with the screen, her heels wobbling on the stone.
I lunge.
I try to catch her, but her friend gets in my way, giggling. She stumbles, knocking down the phone thief, making them both fall backward into the pool.
“Stop—”
Splash.
The crowd around us gasps as the thief tumbles backward into the water, limbs flailing and all. I stand at the edge, horrified, watching the encrypted phone sink to the bottom like the Titanic’s necklace.
“Damián, what happened?” Logan asks.