HONEY AND KNIVES

In the car with the enemy

The doors shut and the world went quiet.

Just the sound of the engine, and Dante breathing.

Blood was soaking through his white shirt at the shoulder. Not a lot. Not enough to kill him. Enough to make him careless.

_“Doll, do you copy? Do NOT transmit. Do NOT get out of that car. We have units 4 minutes out.”_

Handler’s voice in my ear was sharp. Panicked.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Dante was watching me.

He slumped back against the leather seat and pressed his palm to the wound. His knuckles were white.

“I don’t believe in coincidences, Zara Cole,” he said. Quiet.

The car moved. No plates. Tinted windows. We were leaving Moretti Tower behind, sirens getting smaller.

“Me neither,” I said. I kept my voice soft. Shaky. The honey voice. The one that made people underestimate me.

He turned his head. Black eyes. Tired. Calculating.

“You didn’t scream,” he said again. “In there. Everyone screamed.”

“I was in shock,” I whispered. I let my hands tremble in my lap. Inside my clutch, the lipstick-taser was a hot weight.

He hummed. Didn’t believe me.

“You moved like you knew what was happening.”

“I moved like I was scared,” I said. “There’s a difference.”

Lie.

But I sold it.

The driver didn’t speak. One of Dante’s men. Earpiece, gun under his jacket. He kept checking the mirrors.

_“Doll, we’re tracking the car. Stay on the line. Do not engage.”_

I tapped my ear once. The universal sign for _I hear you_. Dante caught it.

His eyes narrowed.

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” I said too fast. Then I corrected. “My assistant. She’s probably worried. There was a shooting.”

Another lie.

Dante shifted. Winced. Blood welled between his fingers.

“You got first aid training?” he asked me.

“Basic,” I said. “From modeling. Fainting, heels, you know.”

Another lie wrapped in truth.

He stared at me for a long second. Then he reached over with his good hand and pulled the clutch from my lap.

My heart stopped.

He didn’t open it. Just weighed it in his hand.

“Light,” he said. “What’s in here? Lipstick and lies?”

I forced a nervous laugh. “And my phone. And mints.”

He didn’t give it back. He set it on the seat between us. Right next to his gun.

A message.

The car took a sharp turn. We were heading out of the city center, toward the docks. Away from hospitals. Away from police.

_“Doll, abort. Repeat, abort. We think it’s a pickup location. Do not let him take you off-grid.”_

Off-grid meant no backup. Off-grid meant he could ask questions I couldn’t answer.

Dante’s phone buzzed. He looked at it. Jaw ticked.

“Problem?” I asked. Sweet. Concerned.

“Someone tried to kill me tonight,” he said. “And then a model with 2.3 million followers just happened to be standing there when it happened.”

“Are you saying I did it?” I let my eyes go wide. Hurt.

“I’m saying I don’t believe in coincidences.”

The bug I’d palmed under the seat crackled. Faint. I hadn’t turned it on yet. If I did now, the FBI would hear everything. If I didn’t, I’d lose the mission.

Choose.

I reached down like I was adjusting my dress. My fingers brushed the underside of the seat. I clicked the bug on.

A voice came through immediately. Muffled, but clear.

_“...the package moves at midnight. Moretti doesn’t know we hit him. He thinks it was the Russians.”_

Not Dante’s voice. Someone else.

Dante heard it too. His head snapped toward the floor.

“What was that?”

My blood went cold. Rule four: never get caught.

I blinked. Innocent. Confused. “I... I think that was from outside? An ambulance?”

He didn’t buy it. He reached down, hand going under the seat.

I had 2 seconds.

I could taser him. I could run. I could blow my cover.

Instead I did the most dangerous thing.

I grabbed his wounded shoulder.

He hissed. Pain flashed across his face.

“Don’t,” I said. Soft. Urgent. “You’re bleeding too much. Let me help.”

And while his attention was on the pain, on me, my other hand slid the bug deeper under the seat. Out of reach.

He caught my wrist again. Same as in the gala. Warm. Strong.

“You’re lying,” he said.

“So are you,” I said. “You’re not fine.”

For a second we just stared at each other. Two liars in a car.

Then the driver spoke for the first time.

“Boss. We’ve got a tail. Black sedan. 2 cars back.”

Dante didn’t look away from me.

“FBI?”

“Could be.”

He smiled then. Not a nice smile.

“Well, Zara Cole. Looks like we both have people looking for us.”

The car sped up.

My earpiece: _“Doll, we see you. 3 minutes.”_

Dante leaned in close. I could smell blood and cologne.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he murmured. “You’re going to tell me who sent you. And I’m going to decide if I believe you.”

Honey gets you in.

Knives get you out.

My hand moved to my clutch.

The lipstick was warm.

The game had just started.

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