Page 65 of Sinful Submission

“Oh girl, no. But I wanted to try something spontaneous, so this is it.”

Honestly, I hated lying to Gina. She was my girl. But I couldn’t very well tell her that we were getting ready to go in and poison these niggas to cripple Pandora’s Box’s money operations. That would freak her out, and then she’d wonder what I’d gotten myself into. And if only she knew, it was more about what had gotten into me. I smiled as Gina continued to talk. She was down, and I was ready for us to make our debut.

“First, you’ve got to come over and get our makeup and hair ready. I’ve got our costumes.”

“Oh, you just knew I was going to say yes, huh?”

“If you didn’t, I would’ve hired somebody to help.”

“Mmhmm. Okay. I’m there, girl. When do you need me?”

“Tomorrow night.”

Gina’s experthands transformed my reflection into a stranger. Golden-brown contacts replaced my deep brown eyes, a curly wig covered my natural short black shoulder-length hair, and her perfectly applied makeup changed the entire structure of my face.

“You look nothing like yourself,” she said, admiring her work. “Club Velvet’s masquerade night was the perfect choice for this.”

“You look just as fabulous. We’ll blend in well.”

“Let’s do it!” I high-fived her, and we loaded into Cruz’s Hellcat.

Riding beside us on his Mercedes Solar Beam motorcycle, Titan watched our surroundings while Storm trailed us in his dark blue Mercedes.

Traffic in Miami was like most nights—heavy, loud, and joyous. But Gina was the only one smiling and hanging out the window in our crew. The rest of us were focused on the mission and what needed to be done.

The red glow from the club’s sign washed over us as we approached the side entrance. My silver dress shimmered against the light, and even I had trouble recognizing myself in the mirrored walls.

“Remember,” Storm’s voice came through my earpiece. “They run standard security only. There is no facial recognition. Your biggest concern is the inner circle—they may know your face, so keep your mask on.”

Titan’s voice came through next. “The money flows through five key players,” he said. “They’ll be in VIP sections three and four. Reynolds always drinks scotch. His two processors stick to vodka. The other two handle external transfers - both bourbons.”

“And how long will the poison take to kick in?” I touched the hidden pocket in my dress.

“Thirty minutes,” Cruz added. “They’ll be long gone before symptoms start, unless they’re weaker than we expect. The medical examiner will call it heart failure.”

Gina turned to me. “Do we have table assignments?” She adjusted her Venetian-style mask.

“Gina’s got Reynolds and his first processor in section three,” Cruz said, watching the back entrance. “Santari, you’ll take the second processor and the transfer team in four.”

My lips curved into a smile, and I relayed the message to Gina. I’d been eager for this since we chose Club Velvet as our first target. The chance to dismantle Ronan’s empire piece by piece, starting with his money men, invigorated me.

“Stay focused,” Titan growled through the earpiece. “One mistake can cost us the surprise, and I’ll have to burn this place to the ground.”

“I know, baby,” I said, winking at him, watching from a dark corner across the street. “We got this.”

I gave Gina an earpiece where she could only hear my voice so we could communicate inside.

The club’sbass vibrated through my body as we slipped through the door. Masked figures filled the space, making our own masks seem perfectly natural. The targets arrived within minutes of each other, moving to their usual sections.

I recognized the second processor by his expensive watch - the one thing Storm said he never took off. The transfer team settled into their usual corner, already signaling for service.

Gina and I moved like we’d worked the club for years. Our laughs pitched through the space as we took drink orders and served them. Gina thought we would work three hours so we weren’t in a hurry, but when we needed to book it - I’d make sure to drag her out of here. It was easy to blend in. We started with clean drinks and would slowly worked our way up to the poisonous ones unbeknownst to Gina.

I leaned close to the processor, letting my hand brush his shoulder as I nodded at his request.

“Vodka martini,” I purred, pitching my voice higher than usual. “Excellent choice.”

Through my second earpiece, I heard Gina working her section. “The Macallan twenty-five? A man of taste.”

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