Page 12 of Power & Punishment

“What’s that?” I ask, gesturing to the paper.

“Oh, the commissioner is sponsoring a few tables for our annual gala and invited me. It’s a fundraising event for the NYPD they do every year. It will be a bunch of higher-ups and maybe some politicians. Would you be interested?”

“Are you saying⁠—”

“I’m not saying anything,” he says, cutting me off. He places the invitation in my hand, and my chest finally starts to warm again.

“If you go to this,” he says, crossing his arms. “You need to be careful. If anyone suspects that you’re there to spy on them, then I won’t hesitate to yank you and your partner off this case. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” I answer, swallowing a lump in my throat. “Do you think he’ll be there?”

“A pretty boy like him? Of course. Guys like that never turn down the chance to play dress up and shmooze over constituents.”

A flicker of a smile returns to my lips. “I think I have a dress somewhere.”

“Take Richards as your date. He’s good at keeping you out of trouble.”

I nod, curling my fingers around the invitation and spinning on my heel. Keith is good at keeping me out of trouble, but only when he has all the details.

“One more thing,” he adds, causing me to pause at the doorway. “Be careful. If he realizes what you’re doing, he won’t make another mistake. You need to be smart.”

I turn enough to meet his eyes. “I will be.”

Because failure isn’t an option. If this man had anything to do with Vince’s death, he is going to pay. I don’t care whose protection he’s under.

Back at my desk, Keith stares at me as I sit down. His eyes flicker to the invitation in my hands.

“I know that look on your face. You’re not planning on letting the DeLuca thing go, are you?”

“Nope,” I smile, “I hope you have a suit, Richards, because you’re taking me out this weekend.”

“How do I look?” Keith asks, grabbing my arm and locking it with his.

I glance over at him. He’s wearing a simple black suit with a white undershirt, but he looks nice. It’s a big step up from the button-up and jeans he usually wears.

“You almost look nice enough to be on my arm.”

He mumbles something under his breath, shaking his head before stopping us a few feet away from the entrance and saying, “Last chance to back out.”

“You say that like I have a choice,” I exhale, my words holding more weight than he’ll ever know.

Inside the ballroom, string lights sparkle, and a crystal chandelier casts a glow over the polished marble floors. The room is packed with people who drip wealth and servers who are desperate to keep the booze flowing.

Keith leans in. “I’ll grab us some drinks. Do you want to find our seats?”

“Yes,” I say, loosening my grip on his arm. Without him holding me up, the heels he made me wear make me feel like a baby giraffe with my wobbling legs. At this point, even a slight breeze could take me out.

I scan the room and force my shoulders back as I search for our table. But before I can take another step, everything just stops.

An ice-cold chill drips down the peak of my neck, and the music fades to the background. I become hyperaware of my heartbeat thumping in my eardrums as I sweep the room for the source.

That’s when I see him.

It’s like the first two encounters, but this time when I look, he’s already staring back.

My skin feels like it’s on fire from the way his eyes melt up and down my body. It’s almost like he can see every inch of skin hiding underneath the dark red silk dress I barely squeezed into.

And then when his eyes finally connect with mine, his forehead creases and my stomach drops. Does he recognize me?