The Games We Play

44. Forty-Three - Tess

Forty-Three - Tess

It’s different seeing X in a suit, complete with a tie and suit jacket. What I imagined hitmen wore was more on the grunge leather jacket bit. He looks like he’s ready to go talk about mergers and threaten your client within an inch of his life. I don’t have much room to talk as I twirl in my full-length evening gown that covers significantly more than my night at the auction.

“You look—” X starts, but he just stares at me.

The dress he got for me has a goddess neckline. It’s an emerald green with a sheer top layer that shimmers with every step I take.

“Do you have your knife and gun?” he asks.

“That’s some compliment, X. But yes. I do.”

“Good. If anyone touches you, kill them.” He leans in and presses his lips to my cheek. I thought we’d be sneaking into an abandoned warehouse, a boatyard, perhaps even a cemetery. But unbeknown to me, things like this occur at yacht parties, orchestra concerts, and wherever rich people need to buy fancy clothes .

After Doc made the call about setting our trap to gain access to Nadia, Xane took us to a friend of his who made us passports and licenses with our unknown names: Mr. and Mrs. Smith. They sound like a sweet enough couple, and we’re here for the pleasure of the exotic variety.

Sitting in the back of the car, our fingers intertwined, my metal wedding band and engagement ring apply just enough pressure on my ring finger to remind me of its presence. I glance down at the glittering diamonds, then at the plain silver band on X’s left hand resting atop his knee.

They’re just for the illusion , he told me when I forgot how to breathe as he pulled out the ring boxes. The unsettling feeling in my stomach churns as the street lights dance off the facets of the largest diamond in the center.

Pretty expensive illusion , I responded, tamping down the unfamiliar sinking feeling at being told it was a simple lie and nothing more.

The car rolls to a stop, and X removes his hand from mine. “We’re here.” He opens his door and steps out while I wait for him to get mine. I take his extended hand and join him, looping my arm around his elbow. Honking horns and a cacophony of voices surround us on the busy city street.

A line of cars sits at a standstill down the busy four-lane street, and as each one stops, a couple gets out before ascending the steps of the carpeted stone. They’re marble, maybe? I’m not sure what stones look black, and the thick red material gives slightly under each step I take. Men in suits stand off to the side at every five of the black onyx steps, their hands folded across the front. Conspicuous earpieces wrap around their ears, and they scan the crowd, talking to whoever is on the other side .

“Who are we looking for?” I ask, trying to keep my wandering mind focused.

X presses his nose into my hair and places a soft kiss as he whispers. “The target is Frances Grundy. He has a scar on the right side of his face and has black hair. He’ll be wearing a ring with his family crest on his pinky finger with a tiger on it.”

X nods to the man holding the door open, and we step inside the immaculate…yet oddly empty house.

I glance up at him quizzically, and he gives me a reassuring smile. He moves his hand to the small of my back and leads me along the string of couples as we make our way through the quiet house to a back set of stairs.

“Where are we going?” I whisper as our footsteps echo around the stairwell walls. X squeezes my hand as if to tell me to be patient. The damp air settles on my skin, and a shiver comes over my body the deeper we get underground. We memorized the floor plans of the house above us. There was nothing in them about a basement.

The stairs level out into a hallway lit by sconces, and I question the decorating decisions of this place. It looks like a hallway leading to a medieval torture chamber.

What’s worse is it feels like we’re being funneled into a trap.

Eventually, we step into a large open room with a vaulted ceiling and a live orchestra playing on a spinning stage in the center. Support columns are evenly spaced around the edge of the floor, where people dance and mingle.

“Madam.” A waiter with a champagne tray offers me a drink. I grab a flute and have it to my lips before X plucks it from my hand and sets it aside .

“Not while we’re hunting. We can’t afford to have our senses dulled.” He lifts my hand and kisses the back of my fingers before leading me into the sea of people.

The hairs on my neck rise with being exposed like this around so many strangers. I don’t have a mask to hide behind. Anonymity isn’t on my side. As I walk by each person, it feels like they’re reaching out and raking their fingers down my skin. I shrink in closer to X, and my breathing picks up.

“If this is too much—”

“No,” I cut X off before he offers me a way out. “I just—it’s different from the party or going to Brady’s. I’m…me.”

“And you’re the most beautiful and dangerous woman here,” X purrs into my ear. Heat radiates down my spine, and I take his hand. Then we dance. We rock in rhythm with the music, which almost feels…normal. If it weren’t for the gun between my thighs and the knife at my ankle, I wouldn’t know any different.

“Is it always this…quiet?”

“It’s like the calm before the storm.”

With each twirl, X spins me around; I look for a man with a scar down the side of his face. Someone in here is a target that’s being hunted. There’s another gun for hire, and I’m anxious to figure out who it is.

Could it be the man sipping champagne alone, leaning against the column? He has sandy brown short hair and a fancy silver watch on his right wrist. He’s relaxed, with one hand in his pocket. Or could it be the man surrounded by other guests with wandering eyes that shift to his companion’s woman’s ass and chest from time to time? I can’t blame him. The dress does wonders for the dark, complected goddess with braids down her back .

“There he is,” X whispers, and I lean back to follow his gaze past me and to the doors. The man that walks through is bulky but not the overweight type. I’d bet he’s pure muscle under his suit. He turns to smile at someone, and I have to squint to make out the slight distortion through his eyebrow and down his cheek. He brings his champagne up to his lips, and his rings glint in the light. One on his pinky.

I’m embarrassed to admit I wouldn’t have noticed the scar until I got closer. I was expecting something more mangled, like a dark pink line you couldn’t miss. The door from the stairs closes, and one of the staff puts a large wooden beam across it as if you’d see it in a castle.

“Keep tabs on him, but don’t get caught staring. Someone else is hunting here, and we need to find them before they disappear.”

“The door,” I whisper.

“I know.”

I look up at X and try to get a read on what he is thinking. His gaze scans around the room, but he seems relaxed.

I hold my breath with every man who reaches inside his suit or pocket, expecting to see a glint of a weapon or something. X spins me out, and I lose sight of the target. He loses his grip on my hand, and I barely catch myself mid-spin. When I have my feet back under me and steady, I spot X staring into the crowd, his gaze shifting around as he walks over to me and stands protectively at my side.

“What happened?” I ask as I search for Frances.

“Someone bumped into me, but I didn’t see who.”

I raise a brow at X. “Okay?”

He shakes his head and leads us to the edge of the crowd. He pushes me back to the wall and places his hands on either side of my body, caging me in. Leaning in close like he’s kissing my neck, he whispers. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

I slide my hand across his nape and grip the waist of his pants with the other. “You’re probably overthinking because I’m here. You’re worried about me. I’m okay. We’re okay. We’re a team. You’re my husband . And we have a job to do.”

X blows out a breath, and it skates across my skin. “We’re going to have to split up,” he says gravely.

“Like a divorce?” I tease.

He leans back and tips my chin up. “We need to find an exit route. We’re blind down here, and no matter how much I try to do it alone, there isn’t time. Frances could be taken out any second, and we’d miss our mark. The staff has to be getting the hors d’oeuvres and drinks from somewhere. I’ll track Frances. When you find a way out, come back to me.”

I hate this idea. It feels like hot coals are rolling across my body, and nothing good will come of it or this. “This wasn’t the plan.”

“No, the plan was to be upstairs, where we knew what the fuck we were doing. Someone changed the plan, and we’re at a disadvantage. Stay in the shadows, stay undetected. Blend in, Puppet.” He kisses my lips, and something flicks across his eyes. It’s like worry but laden with sadness. “It’s just like at the party. Don’t get caught.”

I stare after him as he blends into the crowd. I have one job, find us a fucking way out. We were like minnows funneled into a trap and stuck on a one-way trip. With a last look at the back of X’s sandy blond hair, I keep to the edge of the crowd and follow a waiter with an empty tray in their hand.