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need to respect their wishes and bring them the intel, trusting that they’re not going to let this fucker get away with jack shit. It will be okay, sweetheart. But, Remington—”
    Remy gulped. He only called her Remington when he was mad at her or really wanted to make a point.
    “Remington, you will not jeopardize this mission because you want to make it personal. You will remember that we are a team, and as such, you will do nothing to compromise your teammates.”
    Remy felt her eyes go huge as she looked at Drake. “Of course, Drake. I would never do anything to put any of you at risk.” She was devastated he thought she’d put anything before their safety.
    She felt the sofa dip beside her as Knox put a comforting arm around her, pulling her head down to his shoulder. She was annoyed with Drake and couldn’t help but stiffen as Knox stroked her hair. “It’s okay, love. What he meant to say, even though he did a terrible job of it, is that he doesn’t want you to get hurt.”
    Remy glanced over at Drake, who stood abruptly and walked to where she was sitting.
    “You will not risk yourself.” Drake’s voice was hoarse, and Remy couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. “Remington,” he said as he crouched down in front of her, “you will do nothing to put yourself in even the tiniest amount of danger.”
    Remy managed a small smile. “I hate to break this to you, revered leader, but I think we might all be in a little danger while we’re attending a party at an arms dealer’s château, using assumed identities as we send his client list to the UN so they can arrest his felonious ass.”
    Joss snickered from where he’d finished burning the files, and Knox gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Even Drake looked like he was about to crack a smile for a millisecond.
    “Even so,” Drake continued, “you will be very, very careful tomorrow night.” He reached forward, causing Remy’s breath to hitch in her throat. He rubbed a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger, and the small but intimate contact was enough to make a group of butterflies start flying through her stomach. Then he released her hair and retreated to his ottoman. Knox dropped his arm from around her shoulders, and the moment was over.
    “Let’s try this again.” Drake frowned. “And this time let’s stick to the plan. Remington and I are Mr. and Mrs. Tony Joyce, a new-money couple who discovered a quarter-billion worth of natural gas under their property. We’ve been contributing to Monsieur Contois’s”—Drake grimaced—“charity for the last two years. We were thrilled and overjoyed when he invited us to his party in Monaco, and we’re going to spend the whole time being impressed by the splendor of the château. We’ll walk around with our mouths open, wandering into rooms we shouldn’t and acting ‘aw-shucks’ when anyone shoos us out. We’ll wind up in the office.”
    Knox took over the narrative. “I’ll be waiting outside in the garden along with Joss and my favorite gun, your favorite guns, too. We’ll arrive with different groups and wait outside on the grounds, take a stroll through the gardens and whatever. We’ll make sure no one sees us together. You won’t be able to pack a piece on your way into this par-tay since Contois’s men will be the only ones permitted firearms. Drake will take Remy for a walk in the garden, and I’ll walk her back in so she can escort me to the office while Drake shows Joss which window it is. We’ll go to the office and let Drake and Joss in through the window so Joss can work his magic with Contois’s computer, and from that point on we work as a team and no one separates. I’ll be standing guard in case anyone else comes exploring.”
    “My part’s pretty simple,” Joss added. “Once I break through Contois’s security, I just need to copy the list for the UN onto an external hard drive and drop it tomorrow morning at the checkpoint we got