twenty-seven | monte carlo

despite being home to the world's most famous casinos, Monaco's citizens are forbidden by law to gamble; however, only around 20% of its residents have citizenship status

RAYNA

May 9th, 13:52 (GMT +2)
6 days until it happens

I'VE KNOWN CASSIDY Dalton for less than five minutes and I already want to smack the living shit out of her.

She chews obnoxiously on a piece of gum and whines, "Can you turn the AC down? It's fricking freezing."

Well, maybe if you decided to wear some clothes... I reach for the console and crank the fan up higher.

It's possible that my frustration is perhaps marginally displaced. In the driver's seat, Jake's chiselled jawline twitches, still smug with victory. I'm fuming. I even had a head-start! Motherfucker.

The only reason he found Cassidy first was because of the time Sam and I spent this morning analyzing the contents of last night's photos. Doesn't matter what kind of sinister, apocalyptic mayhem O'Boyle's mystery package has in store; I should've been content letting the entire world burn to pieces – at least then I wouldn't've lost.

To Jake.

My fingernails gouge crescents into the leather seat as irritation rages hot inside me.

"Where the heck are you even taking me?" Cassidy picks at her magenta acrylics, gazing boredly out the window as palm trees and highway whip past.

"Back to Nice," Jake says. "I've orders to keep you at a safe-house until we hear from your father."

She rolls her eyes with the type of sass only a teenager is capable of possessing. "He knows I'm not missing. I told him I was leaving because I was fucking sick of them." She lolls her head back against the seat. "He just pretended I was kidnapped because of the publicity."

I glance over at Jake at the same moment he peers towards me. Our gazes brush wryly. We knew it. Elias Dalton is the world's scummiest asshole.

Jake focuses his attention back on the road and a fizzle of warmth squirms through my tummy, memories from last night ricocheting through my skull. I can still feel the wash of his heavy voice grunting into my ear. Such a naughty girl for me. His fingers and his mouth and his... Against my will, my thighs press together. My nipples are still tender from how passionately he sucked on them.

Sex doesn't get to me. It isn't supposed to make me feel like this. Mushy and disoriented and high, like all I wanna do is just... more.

I knew sex with Jake was a bad idea from the beginning. Ibn el-sharmouta...

Focus, focus, focus.

"You did a pretty decent job staying off the grid," I comment, finding Cassidy's reflection in the rearview mirror. I pluck absently at the teeny gold chain on my wrist. It's always there, it's been there forever, it's like part of my skin and bones.

She shrugs. "I didn't want to get caught. Mati, he..." She cuts herself off, pursing her lips together. "Can I use your cell for a sec? I still don't have a SIM card in mine..."

Instantly, I'm uneasy about the idea. Except it sounds like all she wants to do is call her boyfriend. But my phone carries all sorts of classified and sensitive materials... "Ask him," I jab an elbow in Jake's direction. "He's the boss."

Jake tosses me a dry look.

Let him have Cassidy. I have bigger fish to fry.

"There's a phone where we're going," he tells her calmly. "Twenty minutes."

I glance at the dashboard. The speedometer is hugging a hundred kilometers an hour, not a hair above the legal limit. Back on the highway in Warsaw, and now again. Seriously? Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes doesn't even speed?

From the backseat, Cassidy mutters, "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I checked my Instagram?"

"Go faster," I tell Jake.

He ignores me.

I lean over a little closer. "Isn't driving fast cars like, part of the job description, James Bond?"

His eyebrows furrow together, unimpressed. "There's no rush."

"Actually, there is."

There are too many things happening right now. Cassidy has been rescued (air quotes); she admitted what we already knew – she wasn't even kidnapped in the first place; and now, according to Sam's photo-analysis, the Russian mob has just acquired a massive explosive device from the IRA. No rush...

And instead of saving the world, we're babysitting some billionaire bimbo heiress. Why am I even here?

"Did you find anything more from the photographs?" he asks.

I'm about to open my mouth and spill, because I really want to bounce ideas off of someone, but he already has the upper hand and it's my turn to win one. "And why should I tell you? I thought the only part of the mission you cared about was getting poor little Miss Dalton home safe to her daddy?"

Cassidy giggles. "How long did it take you two losers to find me, anyway?"

The answer to that question is honestly too embarrassing to voice aloud, so I throw it back at her. "Do you know how many millions of dollars of taxpayer resources you and your father wasted on this wild goose chase?"

"Whatever. Take it out of my trust fund."

Next to me, Jake smothers back a chuckle.

"How long until Dalton approves her release?" I ask. "I have more important shit to deal with right now."

I, not we.

"I know you do." A tiny grin tugs at a corner of his mouth. Quietly, he murmurs, "Something that involves you on your knees, if I remember properly."

A bolt of arousal stings through me. Don't think about his dick, don't think about his dick...

Too late. Images of it hit me in the stomach.

The cocky bastard smirks to himself because he knows it.

***

"Agent Shahid," Director Wilson greets. I push my phone to my ear, pacing around the safe-house's small, cramped living room. "I've heard the good news! Miss Dalton turned up safe. Good work."

I squint skeptically. Over in the kitchen, Cassidy is rifling cupboards and drawers in search of something carbless or vegan or gluten-free, I don't remember and don't care. A few feet away from me, Jake's sitting on the sofa at his computer, clicking through paperwork.

"With all due respect, sir... Can we cut the bullshit?" Jake raises his head from the screen, a warning glint to his eyes.

I know he's suspicious about whatever else they've swept under the rug, but there's no way I can pretend to be in the dark anymore. I'm done playing along with their stupid charade.

"Pardon me?" Wilson replies, although he doesn't sound surprised.

"It's an insult to all my years in the Service that you thought this cover-up would fool me. This entire mission has been a sham. Cassidy wasn't kidnapped. She ran away from home and the only reason you went along with Elias Dalton's crazy story was because he promised you money. Because the public outrage makes him money."

Jake thuds his head back against the cushion and scrubs a hand across his face dourly.

After an awkward beat of silence, Director Wilson says, "Like I've said to you before, Rayna, this is above my pay grade. I understand your frustration. Sometimes, we just do what we're told, and that's the end of it, I'm afraid."

I blow out a breath of exasperated air and tilt my neck up to stare at the ceiling. Testing the waters, I inquire carefully, "Is there anything else going on here that might be important for me to know about?"

"No. You've figured out the long and short of it."

Either he's a despicable liar or a stupid, clueless little idiot. "The case is a wrap, then. Can I be dismissed from my duties?"

"Er, not quite yet, unfortunately. We've been asked to keep an eye on Miss Dalton until her family can arrange a secure pick-up. Due to delays, it may take a few more hours. Orders are to ensure Miss Dalton does not access the internet, the press, or any social media outlets. Additionally, she isn't to disclose her location to anyone or be in contact with friends or acquaintances until she's been handed over."

"You're kidding."

"For national security purposes, of course."

I flex my toes against the carpet and pinch my eyes shut, irritated beyond sanity. "You're asking me to babysit an eighteen year old girl because her dad doesn't want a scandal on his hands."

He at least has the decency to sound ashamed of himself. "I trust I don't need to remind you that the terms of your contract require the utmost secrecy, any breach of which is a federal offense."

"I want a raise, Jimmy."

"Finish the mission and we'll talk."

I hang up the call just as Cassidy plods into the room. "This is so boring. When can I go home?"

"Good question."

***

Author's Note [January 31st, 2022]:

Hey friends!!! So sorry for the late update this week — thanks for all the understanding messages I received on my profile! ❤️❤️❤️

What's new with y'all? Anything exciting?

I wish I could offer some fun news such as, "I got laid!" or "I found myself a husband!" but nope. Had my first jello shot this weekend, tho! (Who the hell invented something so stupid, anyway?)

(To any fellow Muslims out there, yes, I'm a haraami. Astaghfirullah.)

xoxo Ami