Chapter 5: The Target

Tiffany's POV 

Hours later, I found myself staring at the bag sitting on the bed. 

The clock on the wall read nine o’clock. We had exactly two hours before the ship sailed, and for the first time, the weight of what we were about to walk into really started settling in my stomach. 

I slipped into the dress Mercer had sent over. A silk red gown, backless, with a slit cutting high along my left thigh. 

Sofia Harper definitely did not shop in department stores. 

The zipper stuck for a second before I finally got it up. I took a breath, smoothed the fabric down, and stepped out into the living room. 

Lucas was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter. He wore a tailored black tuxedo that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His new blond hair was pushed back, exposing the sharp angles of his face. 

He looked up the second my bedroom door clicked. 

His eyes dropped down my dress, lingered on the open slit by my leg, and then snapped back up to my face. 

[Holy shit.] 

A small smile tugged at my mouth before I could stop it. 

Lucas cleared his throat and grabbed his watch off the counter like it suddenly needed urgent attention. 

“You took forever,” he said. 

“I needed time to look expensive,” I said, walking over to the mirror by the front door to check my lipstick. "You don't look so bad yourself. Very posh." 

“Don’t compliment me,” Lucas muttered. He moved behind me, fixing his cuffs in the mirror like it mattered more than it should. 

I watched him for a second. 

“You’re tense,” I said. “Like, dangerously tense.” 

“I’m good.” 

“No, you’re not,” I replied. “You’re loud in my head right now.” 

That made him pause. 

“I said I’m fine.” [I've waited nine years for this. I'm not letting some rookie mind reader mess it up tonight.] 

I winced slightly at the sharpness of his thought. "I told you I'm not going to mess this up, Hale. I want to catch this guy just as much as you do." 

“You don’t know him, Barbie. You’ve only seen files and photos. I’ve seen what he does up close. He doesn’t just ruin lives. He enjoys it.” 

"Like your family," I said quietly. 

Panic hit the instant the words left my mouth. 

“Shit,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

For a moment, I thought he was going to snap at me. Instead, he just exhaled slowly, like I hadn’t actually surprised him. 

“It’s fine,” he said. 

I frowned, trying to read his face. "It is?" 

He glanced at me like the answer should've been obvious. 

“Yeah. It’s not a secret. The whole station knows. Or at least some version of it. Doesn’t really matter anymore. It stopped being personal a long time ago.” 

I studied him carefully. “Still. I shouldn’t have brought it up like that.” 

Silence stretched for a second. 

When Lucas finally spoke again, his voice was quieter than I'd ever heard it. 

"It wasn't just the fire," he said, staring past me like he was looking at something only he could see. “He made sure the fire department response was delayed. It was a message. You don’t take his money, you die.” 

A pause. 

“I was sixteen,” he added. “I got into the basement crawl space where the smoke couldn’t reach me… a total coward just saving himself while his family…” 

He stopped abruptly, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard. The rest never came out. 

I reached out without thinking, my hand resting against his forearm. The fabric of his tuxedo jacket was smooth under my palm, but the muscle beneath was completely tense. 

"We're going to get him," I said, looking right into his eyes. 

Lucas looked down at my hand on his arm. The air between us shifted, suddenly heavy. He didn’t move away. Just stared at me, his breathing slightly uneven, eyes dropping to my lips for a second before meeting my gaze again. 

[Kiss her. Just lean down and kiss her. Wait, no. Are you seriously thinking about kissing her right now? That’s your partner. Your loud, infuriating, mind-reading partner. That is not a thought you should be having. Holy shit, she can hear that!] 

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to step back. The vulnerable guy from a second ago vanished, instantly replaced by the arrogant, annoying partner I knew best. 

"Stick to the script tonight, Barbie," he commanded, checking his watch even though neither of us was running late. "You play the spoiled, rich sister. I’ll handle everything else. If it turns ugly with Scars, you don’t move on your own. You stay behind me. Got it?" 

Something tightened in my chest, but I kept my expression light. 

“Got it. Boss mode suits you.” 

I walked past him without waiting for an answer. 

***** 

The port was packed with luxury vehicles and security personnel. The Scorpion looked like a floating palace, glowing with bright white lights against the pitch-black ocean water. 

Lucas bumped his shoulder lightly against mine as we approached the boarding ramp, nearly throwing me off balance in my heels. 

“Smile, sis. We’re supposed to be thrilled to be here.” 

I shot him a glare and bumped him right back, just harder. Still, I fixed my face into a bright, fake smile for the guards. 

“I can do rich and spoiled just fine,” I muttered. “The thrilled part is difficult when I’m stuck with you.” 

We breezed through security. Our fake IDs were flawless, and the crew treated us like royalty. Within minutes, we were walking into the grand ballroom of the ship. 

The place was overwhelming. Hundreds of people in expensive clothes, diamonds flashing under crystal chandeliers, and waiters carrying silver trays of drinks. But the worst part was the noise. 

Dozens of voices flooded my head instantly. 

[Did I leave the stove on?]

[I should've hidden the money somewhere else.]

[If they ever find the body, I'm finished.]

[She begged me not to do it.]

[I'd kill him again.] 

I stumbled, one hand flying to my temple as the thoughts collided all at once. 

It wasn't the crowd that overwhelmed me. 

It was the darkness hiding behind polished smiles and thousand-dollar suits. 

Every room full of strangers became another collection of secrets I never asked to hear. The ugly ones always cut through the loudest. 

For a second, I was back in interrogation rooms filled with blood-soaked memories that weren't mine, listening to murderers confess to themselves over and over until I could barely tell where their nightmares ended and mine began. 

The room tilted. 

Then warmth wrapped around my waist. 

Lucas caught me before I could stumble any farther, pulling me flush against his side. 

"Hey. You okay?" he asked, leaning close enough that his voice cut through the noise. 

"Too many people," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut for a second and forcing myself to focus on the steady pressure of his hand. His touch anchored me, dragging me back to the ballroom one breath at a time. "It's loud." 

[Come on, Barbie. Stay on your feet. Don't make me panic over you five minutes into this mission. That's not part of the plan.] 

I opened my eyes. 

Lucas was already looking down at me, genuine concern replacing his usual irritation, his hand still warm against the bare skin of my lower back. 

“Better?” 

"Yeah," I breathed, my voice a little lower than usual. "Better." 

He didn't let go. 

Instead, he searched my face for another second, his brows drawing together. 

"You sure?" 

I met his eyes and managed a small nod. "I'm sure." 

His shoulders eased just enough for me to notice. 

"Good," he muttered, sounding almost annoyed that he'd been worried in the first place. 

Then he cleared his throat and stepped back, slowly letting go of my waist, though he stayed close enough that our arms almost brushed. 

“Grab a drink,” he said. “Blend in. I’m going to find the target. I need eyes on him before we make any moves.” 

My focus sharpened at that. 

“Any sign of him yet?” I asked. 

“Not yet,” he said. “But his security will lead me to him.” 

I nodded once. “Text me when you do.” 

Lucas gave a short look like he wanted to say something else, then didn’t. 

“Stay in sight lines,” he added instead. 

I scoffed, ready to clap back, “I’m not a kid...” 

He turned before I finished. Disappearing into the crowd like he hadn’t just cut me off mid-sentence. 

Of course he did. 

I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a quick sip. Then I drifted toward the edge of the ballroom, the glass windows revealing nothing but dark open sea. The ship was already moving, cutting through the waves below. 

I spun around to find Lucas, but I didn't even have time to take a step before I slammed straight into a broad, solid chest. 

The impact knocked me off balance, and my hand jerked. The champagne splashed right across the front of the man's immaculate black suit jacket. 

"Oh, shit," I gasped, my instincts as an ordinary person completely overriding my Sofia Harper persona. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you..." 

"Careful," a deep, smooth voice murmured. 

A hand caught my elbow, steadying me before I could fall backward onto the marble floor. 

I looked up to apologize again, and the words died entirely in my throat. 

The file photos didn’t do him justice. Not even close. 

Zane Knight looked unfair up close. 

Tall, broad shoulders under the black suit I'd just ruined, dark hair pushed back carelessly, sharp features that somehow looked even sharper in person. 

But it was his eyes that caught me for a second too long. Dark and steady under stupidly long lashes, calm in a way that made it hard to look away. 

Which made absolutely no sense, considering the folder Mercer had given me and everything I’d heard about him, both of which painted him as the devil himself. 

How was a man that dangerous allowed to look this good? 

My gaze dropped before he could catch me staring, landing on the tattoo just above his collar on the left side of his neck. A scorpion inked into his skin, detailed and clean, thin floral lines curling around the stinger. 

He looked down at the stain on his jacket, then back at me like this was the most entertaining thing that had happened all night. 

“Well,” he said slowly, a smirk tugging at his mouth, “that’s definitely one way to get my attention.”