Istood beside my seat at the attendants’ table, along with the other plus-ones, and clapped as each wedding party couple was announced. They sashayed into the ballroom two by two, then split to join their dates at their tables and clap for the next couple. Gage smiled when he joined me, but it was impossible to tell whether he genuinely meant it or was maintaining his cover as a man with a real wedding date. When our table companions had all filled in their spots, the emcee announced the happy couple, who entered to whoops and hollers.
The applause died down and conversations began. Gage helped me into my chair, ever the good guy, always a gentleman. I caught the way his gaze traveled down my body, taking in my burgundy silk mermaid-silhouette gown with a low-cut scooped back. I’d known he would appreciate the body-hugging fit, which was one of two reasons I’d chosen it. The second was that the way the gown flared from just above the knee made it surprisingly adaptable for running, kicking, and holding a shooting stance. I felt confident I was the only woman who had dressed for this wedding with those requirements in mind.
At some point over the course of this past week, I’d begun to believe Gage appreciated the things that made me different from the other people in his life. But now when he looked at me, I knew he appreciated the packaging but not the contents.
Gage hung his tux jacket over the back of his chair and sat beside me, close but not quite touching. The clean, crisp scent of him was so familiar. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair, touch his slightly stubbled cheek, and have him turn to kiss me. But even if he tolerated my touch, he wouldn’t return my affection, so I clasped my hands tightly in my lap.
After what felt like hours of being ignored by my date, Gage’s old college buddy, Brody, stood and looked at the women nearest him. “I need another drink. Ladies, what can I bring you?”
When he’d gathered the orders, Gage stood. “You’re going to need an extra pair of hands.”
“Gage.” I reached for him, wanting to keep him close.
“I’ll bring you a refill,” he said, then left without asking what I was drinking or without seeming to notice the Manhattan I’d been nursing was only a third gone.
The band was playing soft music and a few couples were swaying along the edges of the dance floor, probably anxious for the newlyweds to finish the first dance. I hoped Gage would dance with me at least once before the night was over. I glanced over at the bar, where a knot of friends had gathered. I saw the top of his friend Xander’s head, Brody’s back, and Will’s profile. At least while Gage was amongst his friends, he could be happy instead of merely feigning it like he had to do when he was sitting with me. A few more minutes passed, and the group disbanded.
I squinted, looking more closely at Brody as he weaved through the crowd, balancing a tray of drinks. When he reached our table, he began announcing drinks and handing them out.
“Where is he?” I said as I realized Gage had not been in the middle of the group of men, after all.
“And this one’s for Kat,” Brody grinned as he handed me a glass. “Gage said a Manhattan.”
“Brody, where’s Gage?”
He glanced around the room. “Probably around here somewhere. He should be back from the men’s room by now.”
“Men’s room. Did he go there by himself?”
“I hope so,” he said. “When women go to the bathroom in a group, it’s cute. When men do it, it’s weird.”
I jumped to my feet and tapped my ear to make my comms live. “Thanks,” I told Brody and smiled to make my abrupt exit look less…well, weird.Blend in. Do not draw attention. Blend in.
When I was out of earshot of anyone who was paying attention, I spoke. “Pasco, get me the whole team.”
“You’re live, KitKat,” he said a few seconds later.
“Kessler, when you prepped Gage for the mission, did you talk about restrooms?”
“Restrooms?” Kessler asked. “Kat, what’s going on?”
“Gage is out of my sight. Repeat, I have lost eyes on Gage. He possibly went to the restroom alone.”
“No, I told him not to be alone at any time,” Kessler insisted.
“That’s not the same thing, though, is it?” I was being snarky, but I didn’t care. She knew better, and she should have done better. “He’s not one of us. He’s a civilian.”
“Shit,” Kessler said, then let loose a string of more colorful epithets. “Pasco, activate the tracker we have on him.”
“Li,” I said, “please tell me you didn’t plant the tracker on his tux jacket, which is currently slung over his chair in the ballroom.”
“Not my first rodeo,” Li said.
“Not mine, either,” Kessler said, “and I fucked up. Confirm tracker location, Mai.”
“Inside the waistband of his tuxedo pants,” she answered.
Li was going to get a big hug from me when I saw her. As long as she allowed it and wasn’t holding one of her rifles at the time. And Kessler would get a hug, too, because she was already turning the op into a rescue mission, giving specific orders to each task team member we had on-site so they’d be prepared the second Pasco found Gage.
