27
Beverly
Yesterday an urgent call from Aaron alerted us that DG6 had decided to arrive a day earlier than they’d planned. A fourth and unexpected target had arrived in California: Sorio, the one who had been sending men after Megan for years and the reason this war had started.
DG6’s unplanned move had not only put Operation Take Six at risk, but our mission in Texas was also in jeopardy since we’d aligned our assignment with the team in California.
We’d sat in stunned silence as D worked to provide support with Dax’s assistance. I’d always known D was a valuable asset, but only really began to understand his worth when I watched him sitting in Houston, making impossible things happen in California.
When he spoke of taking control of satellites and temporarily scrambling the California team’s digital devices, I realized he was someone you couldn’t place a value on. We’d seen bits of live feeds from the operation that would pop up on D’s laptop, and it resembled those videos where top government missions were carried out by one of the SEAL teams.
Laura and I supplied them with food and refreshments, making them comfortable. Dax had been hiding his abilities. He’d sat with D in front of an intimidating workstation, the set up resembling something from a science fiction film, with large external monitors, three laptops, and other attached devices I couldn’t name. When D would call out a task, Dax would execute it on one of the computers. I’d never seen anything like these men.
D didn’t disconnect with the team until they confirmed they’d eliminated their targets and it had been contained from the media. Without television or social media influence, we were free to proceed with our mission on schedule. Our hope was by the time anyone realized four of the top men in DG6 were missing, we’d have the fifth taken out.
We also found there was a group down in Mexico dealing with a sixth DG6 target. This thing was bigger than Laura or I could have imagined. Seeing all of the effort it took to fight DG6 heightened my fear of this crew as well as what we may face attempting to take down an original member.
* * *
Today,Laura and I flashed fake ID’s that matched the identities D had obtained for us. We entered the event without a hitch, strutting through the checkpoint in our over-priced dresses like we belonged.
At ten grand a seat, we were thankful for D’s inventiveness in stealing us the identities of two cancellations. Santino was using raising money for the homeless as a cover to meet with some of the notorious people his organization conducted business with.
The inside of the auditorium resembled a wedding party. Large, covered tables and chairs lined the main body of the open space. The color scheme was blue, accented with hues of purple and white.
Wavy blue material made up the ceiling and baseball-sized disco balls dangled from it like expensive chandeliers. Blue, purple, and white flowers accented the tables, sitting atop blue sparkling cloths.
Hundreds of matching flowers lined the floors, creating the aisles between the tables. The stage was decorated with a similar theme, only brighter lighting.
Laura had assumed the identity of Margo Carrington, young heiress to her family’s pharmaceutical manufacturing fortune. She wore a navy Giorgio Armani dress that stopped above her knees. The four-inch gold stilettos she wore made her legs look miles long. She knew how to dress for her body type and had the ability to make her five-foot-two height look six feet. I’d straightened her hair that sat on her shoulders, sleek and shimmering with volume. I’d done a nude natural makeup on her to highlight that beautiful, deep caramel skin of hers.
I had assumed the identity of Juliette McCoy, widow of the late Fredrick McCoy, millionaire diamond dealer. I’d chosen a royal blue Gucci dress. Although the dress swept the floor, it had a slit that reached up and cupped the top of my brown thigh. The dress was cut to give a tease of cleavage, but most of the focus was on the embellished waist and daring back exposure. My four-inch beige and gold Valentino heels made me one of the tallest women at the party and put a lot of male eyes in my direction.
Dax went as himself, the son of billionaires. Since the Marshand family was well known in the state of Texas, Dax called up his assistant and the next thing we knew he was on the list.
Our goal was to rub noses with the men identified as being closest to Santino and use them to reinforce his identity when he came down from the protected penthouse and attended the ball. Once we had Santino identified, one of us would get close enough to tag him with a special tracker D had given each of us.
D had assured he’d take care of the rest, although he’d never revealed to Laura or me what “the rest” entailed. Our part of the mission was cut, dry, and simple. Mingle, identify, and tag.
We mingled, and although their stick-up-the-butt attitudes didn’t suggest it, the men in attendance had sneaky hands that they didn’t hesitate to place on various parts of my body. My gracious smile was forced upon my lips, but I boiled on the inside.
Laura didn’t give a damn about being courteous. She’d already slapped a few hands, but her actions did nothing but turn up the heat in the den of slithering reptiles.
The sight of Dax mingling helped to increase my confidence. The first leg of the mission was complete. We’d all gotten in without a hitch, and I was set to approach Eduardo Dominquez, Santino’s cousin. Unfortunately, a crowd of drooling women surrounded him.
My tits hadn’t failed me yet during the times I’d actually put them to use. I poked out my chest, cast my smoky eyes in his direction, and prayed like hell it was enough to call his attention. The three mop sticks circling him failed to hold his fleeting attention anyway. After swiping a glass of champagne from a roving tray carried by a member of the serving staff, I took a sizable gulp.
When a hand brushed along my shoulder a few seconds later, I stifled a smile before I turned to face him. My hand reached for his that was merely inches from touching my stomach, his gaze scanning my body instead of paying attention to where his hand was. After taking a half step back, I took his hand.
“Eduardo. It’s so nice to meet you.” he introduced himself.
“Juliette,” I replied with a gracious smile.
“I’d like to take you out sometime,” he offered, getting straight to the point and nearly making me spit out the sip of champagne I’d taken.
“Can I at least find out what you like about me before we start going out? Or was that your way of telling me you’re only interested in getting me on my back?”
I’d intended to play the submissive flirty girl, but he was the type that got under my skin with one sentence. I chose to speak to him in his language and based on the expression on his face he wasn’t used to a woman talking to him that way. He liked the meek and coy ones who he could manipulate and control.
A smile crept onto his lips. He was handsome, I’d give him that, but the devilishness in his dark stormy eyes revealed a different story.
“I like you. But, you.…” he stated, giving me a once over. “You, deserve a whole lot more time than one night. I’d make you my number one.”
Wow!I was supposed to be flattered that he was willing to make me his main piece of ass. It took effort, but I pretended. I allowed my lips to part so that my teeth could flash, hoping it took the sting from my eyes. I shifted on my feet before lifting my shoulder to my cheek to drive home how flattered I was as I gagged on my unspoken curse words.
His gaze followed mine to the group of women he’d left that had adopted the color jealous-green as their mascot. “They are eyeing me like they’d like to punch me in the face,” I confirmed. He placed his hand in the small of my back before lowering his lips to my ear.
“I’d never let that happen. You are worth ten of those bitches. How about I escort you to the balcony for a bit of fresh air,” he whispered. He lifted his free hand, aiming it toward the balcony.
Laura
If this man put his hand on my waist one more time, I was going to use the stem of the champagne glass in my hand to floss his teeth with. Oliver Dominquez was arrogant, even more so than Dax, who was giving the asshole as many evil eye glares as I was.
He didn’t like Oliver’s hands on me. Was he jealous? A giggle escaped, and the douche bag in front of me assumed I was laughing at his corny-ass joke.
“Margo, you look young. Are you at least eighteen?” he asked, as his tongue touched his lips for the hundredth time. Even if I was underage, I had a feeling this asshole wouldn’t care. I nodded in reply, not in the mood to explain my age or anything about myself to this birdbrained fool. Used to being told I looked young, I believed my short stature and small frame had a lot to do with it.
“I understand your family is in the pharmaceutical manufacturing business. Do you work for your family?”
“Yes, but I dabble in my own side of the business. I’m more of a freelance head hunter,” I stated, glancing at the area of his neck I wanted to shove a broken piece of glass into.
My statement lifted his eyebrow, but I left it up to his interpretation.
“Margo, would you care to join me in my suite for a drink?”
“No!” Dax’s harsh whisper sounded. The tiny ear mics D had fitted us with had Dax and Beverly’s voices going off inside my head.
“It’s the penthouse suite,” he added when I took too long to answer. My sly smile met his slick one. “I’d love to see the penthouse,” I gushed, ignoring Dax and D hissing, “No!” in my ear. It was about time Dax went and checked on Beverly before she ended up gutting the bastard she was with. The tone she’d taken with her admirer was not one to ignore.
We were supposed to wait until the famous Santino came down from the penthouse, but I was about to walk right into his house. On our way to the elevator, Oliver and I passed Dax as he marched toward the balcony at a swift pace to check on Beverly.