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“Right now?”
He turns me and leans in close. “If you want. You should fucking know by now me and shame have nothing to do with each other.”
“Hendrick picked the dress.”
I’m trying to rial him, to see how far I can push it, but there’s only the slightest pause from him. “Mr. Bland has some surprises.”
“He just knows what I like.”
Before he can say anything else, one of the other Quinate—I’m very familiar with all of them now, at least by photo—comes up. Jac doesn’t introduce me to Ivan, which isn’t a problem. I take the moment to slide free. I want to look around anyway, see what’s what, get a feel for the place. I know the layout. It’s bright in my head.
But the layout from blueprints verses the reality are completely different, and I wander through to the great room and nab a drink from a passing waiter. I spot the mayor with a glittering necklace around her throat, but she’s on the other side of the vast great room, and I can’t tell if it’s the item I want.
I don’t cross to her. Instead, I settle into a quiet corner to observe.
My bag starts to vibrate, and I pull out the phone. My heart squeezes tight. The fucking burner.
I open the texts.
First one makes me want to shake.
It’s another photo of Harry, and whoever took it must really have a close eye on her because Harry’s in disguise and it’sbrilliant. In fact, if I had only glanced at the photo, I would have never recognized her.
It’s a gift from our childhood, when we’d hide in plain sight in various disguises. It worked when we tag teamed a victim; I’d rob them, and Harry would take the goods and quick change. She’d stay in the same area in various disguises, and I’d be me. Invisible.
Shit.
If they’re this observant, how the fuck are we going to run when the time comes?
The second message is another photo. Okay, it makes me shake, too, but in a different way.
Diamonds.
A bracelet that could rival some of the most beautiful old pieces I’ve seen. Because they’re not white diamonds. But pink and red. That’s it, nothing else.
My next target.
My back goes stiff as I slide the phone back into my bag. I’m being watched and it’s not Jac. I know he’s aware of where I am. He’s positioned himself across the room as music filters in from a room beyond this, a live band, but he’s not looking at me and it’s not Hendrick.
I want to look around, but instinct stops me. I move, sliding through the crowd to look about. What I need is a close-up view of that necklace, but the mayor’s moved. I catch a glimpse of her simple gown in charcoal heading down a hall that’s pretty empty. So I follow. She turns into a room when someone grabs my arm and hauls me to the right.
It’s another room, dark, just the light from the muted hall seeping in.
I can’t really see the man, but his grip is tight and bruising on my arm, and there’s something familiar about him.
A memory flash comes. A similar grip, a squeeze of one of my breasts before sharp garbled words.
I bite down on my inner cheek to stop me making a sound.
This is one of the men who dragged me around when I was fucked up on whatever drugs they kept giving me.
“Keep your eye on the prizes, bitch,” he snarls. “Fuck all the men you want, grind their dicks to dust, but don’t forget you’re on a schedule.”
I eye his shadowy face with real dislike. “It’s been a day.”
“And you’ve done nothing but go out and fuck. Their lives are in your hands, just like your friend.”
“Got it. Now let me go.”
