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“Where are the—” Riot stops, pursing his lips as he searches for the right term.
I finish for him. “Auctionees?”
“Is that a word?”
“I’m going to say no, but it works. They were in the building next door.”
“Were?”
“I have plants.” I laugh lightly as another couple passes too close to us. “Azaleas are my personal favorites. Did you know they’re poisonous?”
His sigh ruffles my curls. “So you didn’t need me?”
I pause my steps, squeezing his hand. “I needed someone I trust to watch my back.”
“You trust the plants, too?”
Not entirely. But… “They’ll get the job done.”
A man with the Estrada emblem etched into his suit pocket scurries by us. And that’s our signal. They’ve realized that their products have gone missing and their guys have been killed. They’ll try to stall while they search the grounds and surrounding area, but they won’t find them.
“We have thirteen minutes,” I whisper. “Then we need to be ready to leave.”
“That’s specific.”
“We’ll need about sixty seconds to get out and find cover.” I waggle my brows; not that Riot can see them behind the mask. “Want to have a quickie in the bathroom?”
“Any other time, I’d say yes.”
I frown at him, but he doesn’t pay attention. He snatches my champagne flute, depositing both our glasses on the tray of a passing waitress. Then he leads me to the dance floor, keeping us along the edge of the twirling couples.
His hand is firm on the small of my back as he brings us closer together. My chest brushes against him, my nipples pebbling from the satin material of my dress. His fingertips press into my skin, heating me until I want to pant.
“The one thing I wish I could thank my mother for,” he acknowledges, stepping to beat and taking me with him. “She sent me to that fucking pretentious prep school where they forced us to learn how to dance.”
“And here I thought you were a killer.” I shake my head in mock-disgust. “It’s not fair that you can be a pompous, rich guy and a biker brat. You have to pick one.”
“You say that like I’m the only one.” He scoffs. “They weren’t able to beat all the sense out of me. I had to keep hold of a few secrets.”
One song fades into two, and there’s a ridiculous grin plastered on my face. Riot spins and then dips me. As I let my head hang, my eyes meet the countdown timer situated above Estrada’s table.
Fuck.
Riot pulls me back up, and I drag him behind me as I make my way to the exit. Once we’re beyond the curtains, he picks up his pace until the night air caresses us.
“What’s about to happen, Gem?”
I peek left and right, spotting a parked van with graffiti covering the side.
“There. We need to find shelter,” I urgently whisper.
He tightens his grip on my hand, hauling me away from the immediate blast zone.
“That timer on the wall signals when the auction starts. The invitation said promptly at ten, so I set the first bomb to blow five minutes before that.”
“First bomb?” he growls.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “There are six smaller pipe bombs that will be triggered by the first explosion. And if Lory did what he was supposed to, then the resulting fire should hit trails of gasoline and catch the surrounding buildings on fire too.”
