Page 135 of Cozen

None of them even tried.

Sargon suspected the cameras up above helped. A reminder to all the guests that they were being watched, and should behave as such. While Jett kept working security cameras in the downstairs, there was nothing upstairs to capture anything.

Another wise move.

Who would want to hand over video proof of their illegal business dealings to officials should someone come looking?

Jett was not a stupid man.

Maybe that was one of the reasons why Sargon grew increasingly concerned over how attached—obsessed, really—Jett had become with Cozen. To play a game with a dangerous man was to make moves you hoped would not kill you.

Was she making the right moves?

Sargon didn’t know.

“Everything has been fine on my end,” Sargon assured Kirk.

The guy was considered to be Jett’s head of security, but frankly, Sargon answered to no one but Jett when it came to his job. Lately, he wasn’t even answering to Jett all that well, either. But that was another matter for a different day.

“Good, good,” Kirk said.

The guy’s gaze never left the many flat-screen monitors in front of his face. He was the only man on the grounds—besides Jett—to be allowed in this room to run the security cameras, and keep an eye on the footage. He was afforded an eagle eye view of everything happening at the party without actually being there.

“Thanks for checking in,” Kirk said.

Sargon nodded. “No problem. Anything else before I get back out there?”

“Nope.”

“Perfect.”

Sargon waved a hand over his shoulder as he left the security room, and figured he wouldn’t need to check in with Kirk again unless something particular came up. It was the only thing he agreed to for the night was to check in with Kirk periodically to let the man know if everything was fine on the main floor, or if he should be watching someone in particular.

He had not realized how painfully paranoid Jett could be at times. He didn’t understand why the man threw parties like this if it was such a taxing event when it came to stress. Why not just have the goddamn parties where your personal life and business did not intermingle with the guests you invited?

Because that would be too easy.

Clearly.

Jett—like most everyone else in attendance at the party—had too deep of pockets to shy away. Showing off the expensive things he had amassed over the years came with the territory of being as wealthy as he was. Keeping a good public persona, and seemingly inviting people into his life allowed for a little more trust when it was needed.

It was all a well-crafted lie.

A spectacular charade.

Sargon doubted that most—maybe only a handful—of the guests knew what Jett really did behind the scenes. They likely had no idea that they were shaking the hand and breaking bread with a man who had brokered deals with some of the biggest, and most feared, names in organized crime all over North America.

Or … shit.

Maybe they did know.

Who was he to say?

Sargon found Jett had finally separated from Cozen’s side for the first time all night when he made it back to the main rooms hosting the party. The man of the hour was having another two fingers of whiskey poured for him at the bar.

Quickly scanning the room and the people, Sargon couldn’t find Cozen. Instantly, his heart rate picked up a little bit.

Where had she gone?