Page 8 of Lone Wolf (Red Rivals)

CHAPTER 8

Ariadne

“Hey! Who the fuck—”

Sunny’s lips tear away from mine, leaving a ghost of warmth that lingers like a burn. The security guard’s face contorts with confusion as he yanks us both from the supply closet, his meaty fingers digging into my arm.

“What the hell are you doing in there?” he demands, breath reeking of cigarettes.

“Omigod!” Sunny squeaks, her voice suddenly climbing two octaves higher. “I’m so sorry—we got lost, and then—” She giggles. She actually giggles . “Well, it’s our anniversary tonight and we figured we’d be a little naughty, you know, so…” She shrugs, her face transforming into a mask of tipsy innocence.

I must look genuinely shocked because the guard’s grip loosens slightly. The way Sunny plays this role—effortless, seamless—is almost as impressive as her combat skills.

“We didn’t realize…” I say, letting my voice trail off, forcing softness into my normally rigid posture.

“What the hell is going on out there?” calls the other guard from the office. He hasn’t seen us.

One guard distracted, one still unaware. I could break the first one’s windpipe, silence him before he could call out, then slide into the office and eliminate the second guard before he could reach for his weapon. Easy. Clean.

Except for our order not to kill anyone…

“Nothing!” the man holding us calls back. He drops his voice to a harsh whisper. “Get the fuck outta here,” he tells us, shoving us down the hallway. “You’re lucky I’m the one who found you, you stupid fucking…” His words dissolve into muttered profanity as he pushes us around the corner.

“Omigod, like, we’re really sorry,” Sunny continues her performance, giggling again in that soft, girlie whisper that’s so unlike her normal confident tone. “Thank you so much for understanding!” She’s doing a flawless impression of being drunk and horny.

And apparently I’m doing a convincing impression of being confused and aroused, because despite the fact that someone clearly knocked over that decanter in the office, and two strange women are the closest suspects, the guard merely scowls and lets us saunter right back down the hallway toward the thumping music of the club floor.

“Holy shit,” Sunny breathes once we’re back out, the bass vibrating through the walls around us. “That actually worked. Let’s get out of here fast.”

“Slow down,” I snap. My adrenaline is spiking high, but it’s not just from the near-miss with the guard. My lips still tingle from Sunny’s kiss, a sensation I can’t seem to shut down. It’s distracting. Dangerous. “We don’t run. We play this smart, and we don’t get caught.”

Sunny glances over her shoulder at the door, then laces her fingers through mine. “Gotcha.”

Her palm is warm against mine. She pulls me down to the dance floor again, where we weave our way through gyrating bodies, trying to blend into the crowd as we move toward the exit.

My head spins, every nerve ending amplified. The strobing lights cast Sunny’s face in alternating shadow and harsh illumination. The music pounds through my bones, matching the erratic rhythm of my pulse. Sweat and perfume hang thick in the air, but all I can focus on is the lingering taste of…

Sunny.

And it’s only made worse because we have to maintain our cover, her body pressed against mine as we dance toward the exit, her hips moving with practiced ease to the music.

I haven’t been this physically close to someone I’m not killing in a long, long time. And I’ve never felt this…dizzy.

Finally, I think we’re in the clear. “Let’s move,” I tell her, my voice rough even to my own ears.

For a second, I think I see disappointment flash in her eyes. But she follows my lead as I guide our dance off the floor, past the bar, and finally through the exit doors.

The cool night air is a shock after the heat of the club and my ears are still ringing from the music. We walk casually to the next corner, then sprint a few blocks to our extraction point.

Our driver is waiting, reading the latest blockbuster thriller under the dim glow of the car’s interior light—doesn’t he get enough thrills driving around a bunch of mercenaries, I wonder?—and congratulates us as we slide into the back seat.

“Nice and quiet so far. All good inside, ladies?”

I’m no lady, I want to tell him. But I just nod. “All good.”

He takes off, and I force myself to stare out the window. If I look at Sunny sitting there beside me in the confined darkness of the car, I might...

I might reach over and take her hand. I was holding it so long that my palm feels strangely empty now.

Sunny is uncharacteristically quiet, which only makes the tension worse. I can feel her energy, contained but vibrating, as surely as I feel the seat beneath me. The driver pulls off into a secluded alley and kills the engine.

“We’ll wait here for a few minutes. Make sure we lose any tails.”

We sit there for about thirty seconds before Sunny Santiago returns to form. “I gotta stretch my legs,” she announces, her voice too loud in the quiet car. “Seriously, I’m all keyed up and shit. How about we check the perimeter or something?”

The driver, already back to his novel, gives a shrug. “You suit yourselves. We have another three minutes according to protocol, then we leave.”

Sunny looks at me, her eyes catching the faint reflection of a streetlight outside. “You coming?” She waits a few seconds, shrugs, and gets out her door.

I count my heartbeats—one, two, three, four, five—trying to regain my composure. But my body betrays me, following her out into the night before I can convince myself to stay put.

The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of rain and distant exhaust. Sunny is stretching and twirling around like we just pulled off the heist of the century, her grin wide when she spots me emerging from the car.

“We fucking slayed that,” she announces. “Right?”

“We completed our mission. Despite your fuck up.”

But Sunny Santiago will not be quelled. Her grin only widens, her dark eyes dancing. “Admit it, Graves—you liked working with me. Maybe even playing a couple, huh?”

“It was a necessity, nothing more,” I tell her sharply.

Her grin somehow grows even more mischievous. “Uh-huh. Nothing more. Come on—you can at least admit you were impressed by my little distraction move in that closet back there.”

The memory of her lips on mine sends an unwelcome pang of longing right through me. I want to grab her and shut her up with another kiss. I want to push her away and never let her near me again. Both impulses war inside me, equally strong, equally terrifying.

I grope for a response. “I would have been more impressed if we hadn’t needed it in the first?—”

I stop abruptly as one of the car windows lowers. “That’s time, ladies. Let’s go.”

I climb back into the car, Sunny following, and we continue on our way, leaving the city behind, heading out to Elysium.

“Hey,” Sunny says softly after minutes of quiet, her usual bravado momentarily set aside. “Are you gonna tell the Boss I fucked up?”

I make sure I’m looking straight ahead. “I will give my full account of the mission in as much detail as Hadria requires.”

She’s looking at me. I can tell from the corner of my eye. But she says nothing more.

When we arrive back, Lyssa meets us at the doors of the mansion. “I hear it went smoothly,” she says. “Boss wants your report. Head on up to the war room.” We mount the stairs in the foyer before she calls after us, “And by the way—congratulations on your first gig.”

Sunny gives a bright smile. “Thanks!”

I just give a nod of acknowledgment and bite back my first response. I’ve been doing this almost as long as you have, Wolf—and you know as well as I do that tonight was child’s play.

Hadria is in the middle of something when we arrive at the war room, looking over plans that she’s spread across the table. She glances up as we walk in. “Well?” is all she says.

“It’s done, Boss,” Sunny says, and then glances at me.

I let a beat pass as I consider my response, enough time passing that Hadria looks up from the plans again. “It’s done,” I agree quickly.

Why bother telling them about Sunny’s mistake? It’ll only hurt my own chances at getting ahead, and we covered it up well enough. Hadria moves to the side room, filled with monitors and computers, and motions us to follow her. We head in and she brings up a specific feed, switching through the view of the office at the club.

“And there we are,” she says in satisfaction. “Thank you, both of you. You can go.”

We back out, but Sunny pauses in the doorway. “Uh, Boss?”

“Yes?” Hadria sounds impatient, clearly wanting to get back to more important things.

“I kind of messed up,” Sunny says in a rush. “I knocked over a glass in the office, and I?—”

“Did anyone notice?”

“The guards cleaned it up.”

Hadria’s eyes narrow. “And how do you know that?”

Sunny pauses, and I can see she’s summoning up the courage to spill everything.

“We heard them coming,” I say, stepping in before I can analyze why I’m protecting her. “We hid, and they talked about cleaning it up. But one of them found us.”

Hadria’s face goes still. “Found you?”

“We convinced them it was an innocent mistake—that we’d walked into the back rooms without realizing. They didn’t suspect anything.”

Hadria regards me for a long moment. “Well,” she says at last, “I suppose if they’d made you, we wouldn’t be getting the feed at all. And no plan survives first contact with the enemy, as they say.” She gives a dismissive nod and I grab Sunny’s arm and basically yank her out with me.

“Why did you do that?” she asks, as soon as we’re outside in the dim hallway.

“Because I don’t want your fuck up to affect me .” The lie comes easily, though I’m not sure I believe it myself. Something else made me step in.

Maybe I’m just getting into the spirit of teamwork.

She pulls her arm away from me and for the first time I think I see Sunny Santiago get angry . “I was about to take the blame. You didn’t have to?—”

“Take the win, Santiago.” I cut her off, needing this conversation to end before I say something I’ll regret.

She stares at me for a second, her dark eyes unreadable. “Eat me, Graves,” she says at last, and then stalks off down the hallway.

I stand there watching her go, feeling something unfamiliar twist in my chest. The memory of the kiss replays in my mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The taste of her lips, the heat of her body against mine, the softness of her hand in mine.

My fists clench at my sides. This is dangerous—more dangerous than any mission. Emotions are weaknesses that can be exploited. Attachments are vulnerabilities that can be used against you. Grandmother taught me that, beat it into me until I knew it in my bones.

I turn and head in the opposite direction, toward the training room. I need to work this out of my system, need to regain control.

But I can still feel the phantom pressure of Sunny’s lips against mine, still taste her on my tongue.