Chapter 2

Beatrice’s POV

James prefers to meet at the same hotel, in the same room, every single time. It’s a mid-tier chain located in a medium-sized city. Everything about our meetings is set up to avoid the awkward encounters we both dread.

Being undercover and running into someone from either side of our lives is one of those things that can wake people like me in a panic, drenched in sweat, wondering if there’s a bullet waiting for us.

As I step into the hotel room, the smell of old cigarettes hits me right away. The place could really use a makeover, but I never question James’s choice of venue. This is his territory, not mine. He stops pacing when the door clicks shut behind me, and his dark features and eyes help ease my tension.

He gives me a once-over, sizing me up. “I wasn’t sure you’d show.”

“Your message came at a rough time. Sierra let me squeeze in another meeting today, but it was pointless.”

“Just like the last one,” he replies, finishing my sentence.

I shrug it off. “It’ll happen. She’s been giving me more power lately.”

“That explains the ninja supermodel look,” he says with a half-hearted grin. “What do you have for me?”

I twist around and pull my black bag forward, digging into the pocket for the latest USB drive. It’s packed with whatever documents I could snag from the office—screenshots of texts, emails, anything that might help build a case against Sierra. I hold the drive in my hand, flipping it back and forth.

I let out a deep breath and place it in James’s waiting hand. He stays quiet, but I can tell he gets it. Sierra is the type of woman I’m drawn to, and digging into her life feels wrong. She’s not a bad person, but she does have her moments.

“I’ve got some… news,” James says, hesitating a bit.

I look up, trying to get his attention, but he’s focused elsewhere. “Something I won’t like, right?”

“Maybe you will.”

“Come on, James, you’ve been my handler for a while now.” I exhale sharply. “The way you’re starting this makes me think it’s not good. Am I getting pulled?”

“Yes.” James lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Probably.”

“I’m making progress. It just takes time.” I’ve never been taken off an assignment before, and it stings more than I thought it would. Time is what I need. She trusts me.

“It’s not what you think.” He perches on the edge of the double bed. The white duvet looks way too clean compared to the rest of the shabby room.

I sit beside him, and he wraps my dusty-brown hand in his darker ones. I feel my body relax, like I’m finally letting go of a huge breath I’ve been holding. I’ve been on edge for weeks. Here with him, I can just be Beatrice. Outside, I’m Tris, and keeping my story straight feels like balancing on a tightrope. One slip, and it’s game over.

I take a quick look at him and feel a sense of comfort in his presence—those broad shoulders, strong biceps, and that sharp, open face. Ever since I walked into that hotel room and found him taking over from my last handler, we’ve had a pretty smooth and solid vibe going on.

“For what it’s worth, I made sure they kept you on this job. You might stick around, but it all depends on whether you get chosen or if we can fit you in without a hitch.”

“Chosen? James, you know I’m not a fan of playing games. Just tell me straight.”

“Are you familiar with the De Luca family?”

I frown, trying to recall any operations I’ve been involved in over the past few years. “Nope,” I say, feeling like I should know it. The name dances around in my mind, but I can’t quite place it.

“Hmm. That’s probably a good thing. We couldn’t find any direct links to you, even though you grew up near Sicily. You always go by Tris, which makes things simpler compared to other undercover folks.”

Having a name similar to my own helps me stay grounded. Some people need to completely separate from their real lives, but for me, it’s easier to weave in real details than to make up stories and keep track of them.

“So, what’s the deal with the De Luca family?” I pull my hand away from James’s and start rubbing his thigh in slow circles.

“They’re brothers. Mafia in Sicily. The head honcho, Aamon De Luca, their dad, was killed.”

My mind keeps drifting back to something I caught on TV a while back in Sierra’s office. She seemed to know the brothers and had a soft spot for one of them. I squint, trying to recall her exact words. She was pretty specific, like there was more beneath the surface. I thought about digging deeper then, but it didn’t seem relevant to either of my jobs.

“The organization is falling apart. Nolan and Flint are on the brink of a full-blown war.”

“And?” How well does Sierra really know these guys? Sometimes, the ties between people run deeper than they look.

“The younger brother, Nolan, has been quietly searching for a female bodyguard to join his team.”

I stop in my tracks and pull my hand away from James’s leg. “They want to throw away all the progress I’ve made to turn me into a bodyguard? Seriously? I’m practically Sierra’s right-hand person. This is absurd. I can think of at least ten women from the FBI who could handle this.”

“Do any of those women read, write, and speak Italian?” He raises an eyebrow.

I frown. “So, they only talk in Italian?”

James’s shrug is barely noticeable as his dark eyes scan my expression. “Our source says that most top-secret communication is done in Italian—emails, conversations, texts.”

I get it now. No wonder they want to relocate me. After my older half-brother was killed, my dad became fixated on Italian. It was the only language he spoke until he passed away, so I had to pick it up.

“I guess that clears up the whole ‘why me’ thing,” I say with a sigh as I get up and head over to the minibar. I grab a couple of bottles, pour James a whiskey in a coffee cup, and hand it to him before pouring one for myself. “So, am I getting an intro? Is there a game plan here?”

“You’re not upset? You’re cool with being so close to home?” James asks, eyeing me as he takes a sip of his drink.

“I’m not exactly excited about it.” I bring my glass to my lips, inhaling the strong scent. “But you might get a chance to visit your mom.”

The mention of my mother sends a wave of tension through me. There’s a painting on the wall of a solitary boat battling stormy waters, and it always grabs my attention when I’m in this room. It reminds me of her—or maybe it’s just me. She’s all I’ve got left.

“So, what’s the plan?” I ask again.

“We think Sierra might know them.”

I chuckle, feeling the tension slip away. The whiskey hits my throat with a fiery kick as I take a sip. “Sierra knows everyone, but she’s not about to play matchmaker. Why would she just hand me off or even think about it?”

James smirks and takes a long swig. “So, how do they know each other?”

“An arms deal seems likely.” I can’t shake off the conversation I had with Sierra about her brothers; it’s stuck in the back of my mind.

“But that’s not the case, or at least we don’t believe so. What’s really important to your dear Sierra?”

He’s teasing, but it annoys me. I can’t stand it when he pokes at my vulnerabilities like it’s some kind of sport.

“Kids with cancer,” I mumble. Sierra puts a lot of her cash into charities that help treat or support kids with cancer. Her brother passed away from a brain tumor back in high school. A few months ago, we got tipsy and swapped stories about our dead brothers. Well, she was tipsy. I just acted like I was.

“Nolan has a soft spot for cancer patients too.” James finishes his drink and gazes into his coffee cup. “There’s a cancer fundraiser coming up in Sicily that’s on the verge of blowing up, but it’s not quite there yet. We’ve asked them to focus on childhood cancers and breast cancer—that’s how his mom passed. Nolan has said he’ll be there.”

So, I just need to convince Sierra? Just like that, fly from New York to Sicily? That’s a pretty big ask without raising any eyebrows.

“Not exactly. We’ve set it up for her to receive an invitation. You just need to give her a little push. If Nolan and Flint end up going to war, it’ll be a prime opportunity for arms deals.”

“What if she doesn’t bite?”

“I’m sure you can charm her.” He sets his empty glass down on the TV stand. “If you can’t make it happen, we’ll find another way to arrange a meeting. We’ve got a solid file on the father, but not much on the two sons.” He gestures to the duffel bag in the corner. “I brought some intel so you won’t be going in blind.”

“What’s the goal here? An arrest? A war?” I stare at the remnants of my drink, swirling it absentmindedly.

“No war, definitely not. We want to avoid that. Civilian casualties would be a nightmare. Both brothers tend to escalate things. An arrest would be ideal if you can gather the right intel, but otherwise, just try to keep things steady. We will deal with whatever info you bring back.”

“You’ll still be my contact?” I look up at him, anxiety creeping in. He knows me better than anyone else at the bureau. No one else could fill his shoes.

“I will.” James grins.

I move closer, placing my glass on the table next to his. “Want another drink?” I lower my voice.

We’re nearly the same height, and the way my fingers linger on the table puts us just inches apart. His eyes dart from mine to my lips and back.

“I’ll never turn you down.” His voice matches my vibe.

I lean in closer, my chest brushing against his. “If I might not see tomorrow, I’m all about living for today.”

A half-smile plays on his lips. “Have I mentioned how much I dig your motto?”

“A couple of times.” I catch a glimpse of his dark features through my lashes, relishing the desire I notice. “What’s holding you back?” I whisper. “Make me feel alive.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs before his lips find mine. He pulls the elastic from my hair, letting my long dark locks fall free. I sigh, pressing myself against him, feeling the parts of him that have come alive against me. We might only share this moment every few months, but I know the rhythm by heart.

Familiar. Easy. Safe.

All the things I usually can’t stand.