Page 126 of Hard Rain

Because little things became big things. Preferences became routines. Routines became patterns. Patterns caught fugitives.

Somewhere along the way, Axel had stopped rolling his eyes at that kind of homework.

Hell, he thought maybe he’d started doing it himself.

Maybe that was what happened when you spent a year partnered with the smartest man you’d ever met.

Or maybe it was what happened when you fell in love with him.

Either way, Axel found himself scanning every glass in the room, looking for twelve-year-old Macallan before he even realized he was doing it.

Beside him, Whip casually accepted a glass of sparkling water from a passing waiter without ever taking his eyes off the crowd.

They weren’t here to blend in.

They were here to learn everything they could before Charleston ever realized two deputy U.S. marshals had walked into his party.

The ballroom had settled into a comfortable rhythm.

Charleston drifted from one conversation to the next with the ease of a man who owned the room. Maybe he did. Every laugh came a little too quickly. Every handshake lasted a second too long.

Axel accepted a soda from a passing waiter and continued watching.

Charleston preferred keeping people waiting. He’d learned that last night. If someone wanted five minutes of the man’s time, they usually got two. If Charleston approached them instead, they got ten.

Control.

Everything seemed to come back to control.

Whip appeared beside him long enough to murmur, “He’s circling.”

“I noticed.”

“Let’s split up. Cover more ground.”

Axel nodded.

“Radio if you need me.”

“Always.”

Whip disappeared into the crowd with the same unhurried confidence he’d used serving warrants for the past year.

Axel tracked Charleston instead.

The man paused beside an older couple, shook hands with a city councilman, accepted a glass of amber whiskey from a waiter without asking, then wandered toward the grand staircase.

Macallan.

Whip had been right about that too.

Charleston never drank champagne with everyone else.

Axel filed it away.

A cluster of guests crossed between him and Whip, stealing the blond marshal from view.

Two steps to the left brought Whip back into sight near the string quartet, chatting casually with a bartender polishing glasses.