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30
Gage
Standingin front of the mirror in my room, I adjust my tie, putting the final touches on my look for the night. The suit is well pressed and tailored, all black except for the white dress shirt and red pocket square in my breast pocket. I can admit that I look good. This isn’t my or any of the guys’ usual style of dress, but we can all wear the hell out of a suit when we need to.
Normally, going to an event like this would be something we’d do to try to further our business. Making connections and networking, gathering intel on other gangs and business people.
But tonight, it’s all about River.
I’m determined to have her vengeance carried out tonight. I want to give that to her more than anything.
I run my fingers through my dark brown hair and give myself one last once-over. No one will ever mistake me for a straight-laced businessman—and I wouldn’t want them to—but I look like I belong among a gathering of the powerful players in Detroit.
Satisfied, I nod and head downstairs.
Priest and Ash are already there, dressed in their nice black suits with the one splash of red. It seemed right, since we’re ruining a man’s life tonight.
River and Knox come down a moment later, and as soon as Knox clears the stairs and we can see the silver-haired woman behind him, we all hone in on her. She draws my gaze no matter where she is, and right now it’s impossible to look away from her.
She looks sexy as fuck. That dress was the best idea, and it fits her so damn well.
I can also tell that Knox already got his hands on her, from the way her face is a little flushed and her hair is a little messy.
As soon as she’s standing close enough, I grab her arm and drag her into a kiss. It’s deep and hot and not at all long enough, but it’ll have to do.
When I pull back, I arch an eyebrow at her. “Are you ready to sow a little mayhem?”
She grins back. “Just call me the Queen of Anarchy.”
“Damn right.”
I let her go, and Priest and Ash both take their turns kissing her. Like each of them want to steal some kind of promise before we head out. It’s a big moment, and we all know it.
The party tonight is being held in what can only be described as a massive mansion. We get into the car and drive over there, and I can’t help eyeing the location as we pull up. It’s gotta be one of the most expensive places in the Detroit area, although it’s well outside the city, sitting proudly on a massive plot of land.
We have to drive through a set of wrought-iron gates that swing open as soon as we approach, and we curve up the driveway with the other cars to the front of the house. Ours is probably the least fancy of the bunch, which is saying something since we’re in a sleek black Lexus. But everyone else is flexing their wealth with what they drive, giving instructions to the valets not to scratch anything. As if they aren’t already well trained.
Everything is glittering and bright, and a valet in white gloves and a red coat with tails immediately comes over to take the car, leaving us to walk up the rest of the way to the house on foot.
There are house staff and event staff everywhere, guiding people up the drive to the open door, spilling light out into the darkness of the night. A pretty redheaded woman with a fake smile and a sparkly dress stands at the door with a tablet, checking names of the people who are lining up to get in.
I give her ours, and she scrolls for a bit before smiling up at me.
“There you are,” she says. “Come right in. Enjoy the night.”
She shoos us into the grand entrance so she can get to the people behind us. She probably has no idea who we are, and in the grand scheme of things, she probably doesn’t give a shit. We’re on the list, and that’s all that matters for her job tonight.
I wonder how ballsy you’d have to be to show up here with no invite and then get turned away. If someone did that, trying to get to Alec Beckham or any of the other high profile guests, they wouldn’t even get through the door before they got turned away. No amount of sweet talking would matter.
To get on that list, we called in a favor from a pretty well connected person in Detroit. It’s something we’ve been sitting on for a while, waiting until we really needed to use it.
To be honest, this wasn’t what we would have planned to use it for. We’d discussed situations that would call for it, that would be worth giving up something as good as that to have in our back pocket. But as far as I’m concerned, this is completely worth it. We’ll be taking out a major player in the city, and River’s vengeance is as good a reason as any. Better than most, even.
We walk through the entry way, and I look around, casing the place. I know my brothers are doing the same thing, and in a place like this, it’s not even suspicious. You don’t have grand mansions like this, unless you want to show off all your shit and your money, and that means you want people to look. And feel jealous that they don’t have what you have. It’s all a game to these kinds of people.
But we’re not checking out the art on the walls or the crystal chandeliers that hang from the vaulted ceilings. Instead, we look for security and check for exits, mentally running through the plans we have for the evening and figuring out the best way to make them work with the space we’re in.
There are security team members dotted through the place, of course. They blend in a little with the crowd of guests already here, but they’re easy to pick out since I know what I’m looking for. And this many rich people in one room need their armed guards to feel safe or whatever. The exits are just as easy to point out, although it’s hard to know where they lead to, since we don’t have a layout of this place.
River is at my side, and she leans in closer to me. “You need to relax your face,” she murmurs.
I frown and glance at her. “What?”
“You look like you’re about to knife someone,” she says. “You have resting murder face.”
I crack a small smile at that.
Her sass and quick mouth were things that bothered me about her in the first place, but they’ve become my favorite things about her over time. She’s been through more shit than anyone should ever have to handle, and yet she’s still got a fire inside her.
I never want to let it go out.
