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Beatrice watched them with a knowing smile. “Inside joke?”
Amelia grinned. “One of many.” She used her chin to denote the stream of folks heading into the main room. “What do you think?”
Parker and Moe joined them, him visually sweeping the area as Rory had done.
“I think our male companions need to stop being so conspicuous.” Beatrice cocked her updo to the left. “There’s Sabrina. Everyone act casual. Like this is fun and not as if you’re having a root canal.”
Her voice was in his ear as well as next to him, the order going out to all of them over their comms. Sabrina, in a caterer’s black and white outfit, sauntered up with a tray of champagne flutes. Her hair was in a slicked back bun and she wore no eye makeup. “Good evening. May I interest any of you in a drink?”
Beatrice and Amelia took a glass. Cal and Rory did not. Moe took two. “What?” he asked to the brows that went up, downing the content of one in a long gulp. “You said act like we’re having fun.”
Sabrina grinned. Parker elbowed him. “Top of your game, Henley,” she growled, using his Rock Star nickname. “Not drunk off your ass.”
“Don’t worry,” Sabrina said with gusto. “It’s sparkling white grape juice. For the underage crowd. Not a drop of liquor in it.”
Moe pursed his lips and made smacking sounds as he returned the empty to the tray. “I knew that. It’s not bloody likely I’d get trollied on the job now, is it? Blimey, Parker. Have a tad bit of faith.” He glanced at Cal. “Shall we crack on, then?”
Cal, ever stoic, pasted on a fake smile that Rory knew well—he hated this charade as much as Rory did. “I count six cameras and three security guards. Coldplay? You read us?”
“Roger that,” Trace replied. “All systems go. We have eyeballs on you.”
Rory’s patch into the main security system had been deemed necessary and he was relieved it was giving those not inside the hall with them the layout. Not that he’d thought it wouldn’t, but he’d had to work around another interested party who’d piggybacked onto it as well. Might be the Secret Service, might be the kidnappers. Either way, he’d had to ghost his feed so it didn’t alert any of them.
“In we go,” Beatrice said. “Vivi and Ian are already here. Each of you has your assignment.”
Amelia tensed under his possessive hand, then blew out a breath and returned her untouched flute to Sabrina’s tray. She and Rory were on Hannah duty; Cal and B would be watching the donors, specifically any who interacted with the Leading Edge entrepreneurs. Parker and Moe were to observe the influencers. Vivi and Ian were to keep their focus on the various security details. Sabrina was there to eavesdrop on gossip and be general backup.
All were watching the kids, both those in LEAD and those of the wealthy gathered to support them. Children were taught to trust law enforcement, firefighters, and others in uniform, and in the event they became separated from their parents, they could easily be lead away by a kidnapper posing as one.
“Running facial rec on our Keystone Cops,” Connor told them. He, Tate, and the rest of Trace’s team were set up in a three-layered perimeter. They covered all exits, parking lots, and escape routes.
While Rory felt like his bowtie—the real deal he’d had to break down and ask Amelia to help him do—was choking him, the rush of being on a mission had his pulse beating faster with anticipation. It had been a long fucking time since he’d had this level of involvement in an undercover sting operation. He was torn between being happy about an altercation and scared witless. He had to keep Amelia safe and he’d made her recite his four main tenants until he’d driven her to the point of impatience and she’d flipped him off.
He slid a finger to his comm and turned it off before leaning close and murmuring in her ear, “You remember what I taught you?”
“How could I forget?” When she saw his pointed look, she rolled her eyes, limping along beside him. Her voice became mechanical. “Don’t go anywhere alone. Know where the closest exit is at all times. Report anything suspicious. If something goes down, do not engage and get to safety.”
Inside the main hall, at least a hundred folks meandered about, visiting with the Leading Edge members who had booths set up along two walls, and searching for their assigned seats at tables covered with fancy cloths.
Each booth and every table showcased one of the night’s kids, complete with information cards listing their bio and accomplishments to date.
The four of them found their assigned seats as a woman took the stage and calmed the crowd. She welcomed them and offered a preview of the evening’s itinerary, making sure to compliment the event coordinators and throwing in a plug for donations before she introduced Hannah.
The First Daughter looked at home as she strode across the stage, acknowledged the applause, then focused everyone’s attention on the reason they were there.
A natural at speeches, she peppered hers with antidotes and puns, explaining the reason she’d started Leading Edge, the successes they’d had in the few short years since its inception, and how important bringing brilliant young minds together on a world stage was. “After all,” Hannah said, smiling out at the gathering, “child inventors have been improving our lives for years, bringing us things like earmuffs, the trampoline, and even Christmas lights. Let’s support these youth tonight and encourage our leaders of tomorrow!”
Applause swept the room, accompanied by cheers and whistles. Hannah introduced the first of three presenters, a thirteen-year-old who had invented a bicycle for paraplegics. Her younger brother had incurred a spinal injury and since his favorite thing was to ride his bike, she’d tinkered with various versions until she’d found one that worked with a combination of hand pedaling and verbal commands.
The next was a sophomore in college who’d developed a skin patch for burn victims that kept their wounds bacteria free and improved healing time by weeks, all based on shark skin properties. She was working on various skin tone adjustments so the patches would blend into the user’s own coloring.
By the third and final presenter—a fifteen-year-old social media star who had developed a language learning system that made use of colors and shapes, along with musical notes, to help people with reading and speaking multiple languages, Rory found it challenging not to be engrossed by each of their ideas. The current one was teaching the crowd basic French—masculine and feminine nouns, verb conjugation and more, using a color matching system. She already had several companies interested in patenting it for use with the under-five crowd, as a second language aid, and for those with certain reading disabilities.
It literallycouldchange the world.
He bobbed his knee under the table, clapping along with the others as the final presenter finished. His attention naturally jumped to the booths as folks rose from their seats to meet the kids and learn about their talents. So far, nothing and no one had appeared out of place.
So far.
