41 Seven
No clue why I allowed Kimmy to manipulate me into agreeing.
Perhaps, I was still in a daze after that kiss.
My brain screamed that I was an idiot for letting her be part of the operation, but my gut knew the truth—she'd do it alone anyway, and that terrified me more. So having some kind of control over the situation was better than being blind to what she was doing altogether.
As I entered the safe house after my last-minute errands, Kimmy was standing by the mirror. She was backlit by the evening neon pouring through the glass, already in the dress.
It was the one we'd picked out online together—cheap spandex the color of arterial blood, chosen because she needed to stand out. The fabric clung to her with such indecent desperation that it made my head spin. It made other parts of my body throb too.
I hadn't expected her to change into it until the last minute, but there she was, already testing her balance in the high heels.
She was a stranger in the mirror.
It should have looked ridiculous. But it didn't.
The black wig sat tight on her skull, parted to one side, synthetic strands gleaming. The heavy makeup turned her face into geometry—sharp cheekbones, a lip line that could cut glass, eyes dark as tar. She was almost unrecognizable.
Her hands shook. The left gripped her right wrist, squeezing, releasing, squeezing again.
She turned at the sound of the door opening. Her eyes tracked me slowly as I removed my boots. Then her shoulders dropped. She breathed out, a relief so obvious it was embarrassing.
"You can still change your mind," I said past the sudden knot in my throat that had nothing to do with any kind of allergic reaction.
"I won't."
"You're shaking," I pointed out.
"It's not fear." She laughed. "It's the shoes. They're extremely uncomfortable."
I rubbed my forehead with my index and middle fingers, unsure of what to say. This was a dumb idea. If she got caught trying to get in, it would be the end of the entire operation. And most likely the end of the job.
I didn't want to think about the consequences.
I crossed the room, grabbing a chair on the way and dragging it to the window. She smelled like drugstore perfume and nerves when I approached.
"Sit," I said, setting the chair in front of the mirror. She perched on the edge of it, braced her palms against her knees and waited.
I pulled out the pendant from the inner pocket of my jacket and showed it to her.
The jewelry looked like something a tourist would buy in an airport gift shop—huge fake crystal strung on a gold-plated chain. Hidden inside the crystal was a camera.
"This is on at all times," I said. "You can't turn it off. It's going to record both audio and visual. The device won't stream or transmit video in real time. The club has a tight security system and jammers, but we managed to find a workaround to transmit audio."
She nodded, looking at the device first, then at my hands.
"I'll be able to listen in, so I'll know if you're in danger," I said, moving to stand behind her. I didn't tell her that Viper would be the primary person to monitor the audio feed. "You remember the code phrase?"
"Blue ballon is tired."
"Good."
Kimmy didn't reply.
My gloves came off. I tucked them into the back pocket of my pants and I gently pushed the dark fake hair to the side and over her shoulder, then looped the necklace holding the pendant around her neck.
My knuckles skimmed the edge of her jaw, soft as a nerve ending. Her skin was hot—feverish, almost.
I felt it in every fiber of my being.
I remembered how I'd jerked off in the shower the other day, fantasizing about her. I was an absolute asshole. Now that she was this close, I had a hard time keeping myself in check. All I wanted was to press myself to her, smell her real hair, and kiss her lips again. Kiss them properly.
Fuck. This was not how I intended for things to unfold. I planned on removing all thoughts of her from my mind. Our time would come to an end soon.
I almost dropped the pendant as I fumbled with the clasp.
Then one end of the necklace slipped from my grasp and fell down onto her upper back, right above the edge of the dress.
I reached out to grab it, and for one dumb second we both just were there, frozen by the contact.
The tips of my fingers didn't want to leave her skin.
I saw the jump of her pulse at the corner of her throat, like a moth slamming itself against a porch light.
My own chest felt tight and full and I couldn't breathe. "Sorry," I muttered just to break up the tension of the moment.
I fastened the clasp and stepped back, needing to put a distance between her and me. I'd never experienced anything like this before. This inexplicable pull to a woman. According to Father, women were just a means to an end or fun one-night-stand company.
But Father had lied to me all my life about my own identity. He probably lied about women too.
I cleared my throat and said, "Try not to touch the pendant itself. We need for the image quality to stay sharp."
"No fingerprints. Got it," she replied, scanning her reflection in the mirror. Her knees bobbed, knocking together in silent, anxious percussion.
I hated it. I didn't want her to go, but somehow I couldn't tell her no. Her logic made sense. If she helped, this job would be over before her mother's return and before her other siblings got involved.
I checked the time on my phone, then moved to the opposite side of the room, thumbed my earpiece and murmured, "Viper, audio check."
Viper's voice was a whisper in my head. "Sounds good to me."
"Stay on the channel."
"Of course, boss."
I muted the earpiece and walked over to her. She was standing now, fixing the creases in the dress.
"Let's repeat this," I said. My hands weren't listening to me.
They flew up and grabbed her shoulders. Gently, like a parent sending a kid off to school.
What the fuck was I doing? "You'll go in through the entrance in the alley.
When you get to the door, the security will stop you.
You will ask for Cosmo. He's one of the managers for VIPs.
Then tell the guards Mr. H sent you. Got it? "
Kimmy nodded, jaw locked.
"Don't be nervous. Don't fidget. Don't talk unless you have to. And only say the bare minimum. You look the part. They'll never suspect anything unless you give it away."
"What if they ask for my ID?"
"They won't," I said. "They don't want any records of anything in places like this."
She blinked.
"You okay?" I asked, not expecting a truthful answer.
She tipped her chin, and I knew she was lying.
"I've got your back the whole time," I added, softer.
Even though I'd never mentioned I had help, she'd guessed I was working with someone.
She saw me communicating with Viper earlier and just now.
But she didn't ask any questions. And I didn't tell her.
Even if I'd compromised myself, I couldn't do that to Viper.
It was for the best to keep her in the dark.
"Let's get this over with, huh?" She gave me a small smile, tight at the edges of her corner.
I looked her in the eyes and my heart thudded wildly in my chest. It was annoying but also exciting. "You'll do fine, Ponytail."
Her left eyebrow perked up. "You gave me a nickname."
"Not a nickname. A code name," I corrected her.