“First of all, you don’t have resting bitch face.” Sydney opened her mouth to protest, but Mya waved a dismissive hand. “And second, you’ve gone undercover before. I don’t buy you can’t swing anything you put your mind to.” Mya held her palms open this time. “But I do see the way Beckett looks at you. He will probably lose his shit if Jorge so much as sets a hand on your arm, let alone tries anything else.”
“Beckett will go to the ends of the earth for Miles no matter what since he’s McKenna’s brother. But that doesn’t mean he won’t break Jorge’s jaw in a split second, considering all the stress he’s under.” She allowed that horrific scene to unfold in her mind and winced. “So . . . will you do it? Take over for me tonight?”
“One small problem. I don’t know any songs from the nineteen-twenties.”
Sydney lifted her watch and checked the time. It wasn’t noon yet. “You have all day to learn. And those songs don’t have that many lyrics. You can do this.”
She’d beg if she had to. She already cared about Beckett so much, maybe more than she should’ve in such a short period of time, and she’d do anything to safeguard him when or if possible.
Mya turned away from Sydney and peered out the window toward the gorgeous Andes Mountains. “Syd, of course,” she responded, and Sydney circled her to make eye contact. “You’re my best friend. I’ve got your back. You know that.” She reached for Sydney’s hand and squeezed. “Always.”
“I promised not to put you on the front lines for ops, and here I am asking you to risk your neck.”
“I won’t be in danger.” Mya sent her a soulful, expressive look. “Because you’ve got my back too.”
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.