Читать книгу The Professional - Addison Fox - Страница 8
ОглавлениеMax had watched the man fall as if in slow motion. He’d fumbled to get a firm grip, but the guy was already laid out cold before he could get any sort of hold.
What the hell?
Violet dropped to her knees beside the man, feeling for a pulse as she shouted orders to those assembled around the ballroom. Several of the guys who’d drunkenly cheered on the fight rapidly sobered as they realized the situation had gone from a good-natured fight to something far more serious.
Max scanned the room, looking for someone who could help him wrangle the other guy until they got to the bottom of what was going on. He caught sight of a man seated calmly on a couch. Who watched a fight that passively? The man only lifted his eyebrows and offered a small shrug as if to say “young men and their ways,” but Max ignored it as he turned.
Was the jerk really that callous?
Hell, there was a woman stuck in the middle of this who could have been struck by flying fists, and at least one of the fighters was high on who knew what.
At the realization that Violet could have been hurt, thoughts of the uninterested bystander vanished, and his gaze lasered in on the object of his increasing attention. As he expected, she’d inserted herself smack in the middle of it all, shouting orders like a drill sergeant from her position beside the downed man.
“The ambulance is on its way. In the meantime, get him comfortable and covered and get something under his head.”
With a quick leap to her feet, she focused on the other half of the fight. “What happened here?”
“Nothing.”
“You were brawling in the middle of a wedding.”
“Nate started it.” The immediate chest puff beneath the studs of the man’s tuxedo shirt had Max moving to stand next to the second fighter.
“What did he start? You’re at a party.”
“Trash talk. Weird stuff.” The guy stopped and scratched at his temple. “Really weird stuff.”
“Like what?”
“We were talking about the wedding and how Jordan’s now handcuffed to Kim. In a good way, ya know?” The guy scratched his forehead again, the adrenaline fading from his voice as the heat of the moment faded into the aftermath. “And then he breaks off and starts talking about handcuffs and how he’s going to find a woman of his own to handcuff. And then he—” A wash of red filled the man’s face. “He said a few things about my sister that I don’t want to repeat.”
Max let the man process, the unreality of the moment giving way to his increasing ability to think through what happened. “You know him?”
“Sure I know him. Since we were kids. Nate’s a good guy.”
“And the two of you usually don’t brawl like your lives depend on it?”
“No. Heck no.”
Because Nate’s a good guy, Max thought.
“All we were doing was having a few drinks. Over there.” With the excitement fading, people had moved back to the bar set up for the Gardners’ guests. Open bars had a way of bringing out the party animal in everyone, but Max couldn’t help thinking there was something else at play.
Max glanced down at the felled Nate, his eyes still closed and his breathing coming in rapid pants. The security team surrounded him and the lead Violet had called for was on his knees, assessing the man’s situation. “Does Nate like to add anything to liven up his party?”
“You mean drugs?” The guy’s eyes widened. “No, man. Nothing.”
Violet had stayed quiet, but she chose that moment to speak up. “Is it possible someone slipped him something?”
“We were—” The fading buzz and postadrenaline low had dulled the man’s eyes, but they flashed with a shot of fire. “There was a guy. Over there. Older guy. He talked us up for a few minutes. Said how much he was enjoying the party. Asked if we were friends with the bride or the groom.”
The man’s gaze flew around the reception area before he shook his head. “He’s gone.”
“What did he look like?”
“Unremarkable. I don’t know. He just sort of blended in. It’s a party, ya know.”
Yeah. He did know. For all the security in place, the hotel was large and no one had perceived there was much danger, especially once the groom’s grandmother—a three-decade congresswoman—was ensconced in the ballroom, protection detail nearby.
Max took a view of the room through fresh eyes, his surprise at the man who’d sat unmoving on the couch flashing in his memory.
Had the guy dropped something in Nate’s drink?
Although he followed a steady progression around the room, reading each quadrant for anything suspicious, Max knew what he’d find.
Everything was back to normal, and there wasn’t a stranger in sight.
* * *
Violet waited until the ambulance had come and gone before finding Kimberly and Jordan in the ballroom. She hated telling them anything, but they had a right to know about their guest, and she’d rather they heard it from her so she could spin the story, minimizing its impact on the event.
Nate had been checked out, and while the paramedics had shared precious little information, she did get out of one of them where they were taking him. Brad, the guy Nate had fought with, joined his friend in the ambulance and promised to report back with any updates.
“Where’s the ambulance?” Cassidy’s breathless voice grabbed her just as Violet got the bride and groom in her sights.
“On its way to the hospital.”
“What happened?”
Violet wanted to get it over with, but she also knew Cassidy would be a good sounding board for how casual she could make the story. “Heated words followed by a fight in the lobby.”
Cassidy’s tone only ratcheted up as Violet finished the last notes of the retelling. “And that required an ambulance?”
Reconsidering, Violet couldn’t quite stop the wry grin. “I was hoping the fight would divert attention from the whole ambulance part.”
“Try again.” Cassidy’s soft blue gaze was serious as she moved them both toward the wall. “In the meantime, calm down for a few minutes. Another dance or two isn’t going to make a difference, and it will give you some time to settle.”
Violet knew her friend was right, and she used the short walk to unruffle her feathers. There was something at every wedding that was unplanned and often unpleasant, but she got through.
For some reason, she couldn’t find any hint of that quiet calm today.
“Now spill. What really happened?”
“That’s what’s so odd. The two guys fighting were best friends. But the one in an ambulance headed for Baylor’s emergency room right now is clearly high on something. He collapsed after Max broke up the fight.”
“Max broke it up?”
“He was considerably more effective than security.”
Violet inwardly winced at her dry tone. Max had helped, and she was grateful.
“He’s been keeping a watchful eye,” Cassidy said.
“Too watchful.”
Cassidy’s gaze was equally watchful, but her tone was full of the censure only old friends could manage. “You need to get over this annoyance with him. We have the rubies because he made a judgment call on his feet. Being mad isn’t going to change that.”
“I know. Damn it.” Violet tapped a toe, the nervous movement something to focus on. “I know.”
And she did know.
The discovery of a cache of jewels underneath the floor of their shop wasn’t Max’s fault. The fact that their landlady had hidden fakes of the British Crown Jewels and three very real—and very precious—rubies wasn’t Max’s fault, either. He’d just had the misfortune to snag the rubies off the top of the heap before Cassidy’s ex-fiancé, Robert, stole the rest of the find.
“In fact, if I’m not mistaken, Max would like to find any number of ways to make it up to you.”
A flash of heat cratered in her stomach before spreading outward like a warm flow of lava as Violet imagined all those ways Max could make it up to her. Then she locked the erotic images away. She wasn’t interested in pursuing anything—casual or otherwise—with such an overbearing man. The attraction might be out of her control, but what she did about it wasn’t. “You’re subtle, Cupid.”
“I’m only saying what we’ve all seen from the beginning. The man’s got eyes for you, and I know you well enough to know you return the sentiment.”
“I don’t—”
Cassidy’s hand came up in a stop gesture with all the speed of a Supreme. “Don’t insult me or yourself by lying.”
Violet hesitated before she pressed on. She did feel something for Max, but it didn’t matter, and no amount of breath had made her friends see reason. Just because Cassidy and Lilah had found happy-ever-afters with the men who’d descended into the middle of their lives like a hurricane didn’t mean she’d find the same.
In fact, her history suggested the exact opposite.
She wasn’t cut out for romantic love. And thanks to her parents’ loveless marriage and subsequent poor decisions in that realm, she had no basis for it. Instead, Violet had the deep, abiding love of friends, and she knew that was enough.
She’d decided long ago it had to be.
“Please think about it.”
“I don’t see why I need to. You and Lilah have done enough thinking about it for three of me.”
“Vi—”
She grabbed her friend’s hands in a tight grip, her voice firm but kind. “I appreciate it. You know I do. But this really isn’t the place for it. I just sent a man out of here in an ambulance.”
The rapid change in subject had its desired effect, even if Violet regretted the slight manipulation. She had put a man in an ambulance and finishing the wedding needed to be their focus right now. Cassidy glanced around the ballroom, her voice hesitant when she finally spoke. “Do you think the brawl has anything to do with us?”
“I don’t see how. We’ve monitored everyone who’s entered and exited. Reed’s stepfather is in jail. I don’t see a connection.”
“You’re right. Of course you are.” Cassidy shook her head. “I don’t know why I can’t believe it’s over. Reed watched them cart the man off in a police cruiser.”
The urge to share Max’s point of view—that they were all naive to think Tripp Lange wouldn’t find a way to work this entire situation to his advantage—was nearly out of her mouth when she pulled it back.
Just because Max speculated didn’t mean he was right.
And despite the fact that they’d collectively spent the last two weeks on high alert over the discovery in their shop didn’t mean it wasn’t time for things to go back to normal.
The culprit was behind bars, and anyone who’d worked with him was dead.
It was time to relax.
* * *
Alex Ebner, assistant to the man whispered about only as The Duke, settled himself in the front seat of the black limousine. “The women are all there, just as you suggested they would be.”
“And the men?”
“Stuck to them, as you also suspected.”
“You speak of my stepson as well?”
Alex thought about his casual stroll through the ballroom. “He hasn’t left the baker’s side.”
“Excellent.”
Alex waited, as he always did. He was deeply loyal, and he was more than willing to wait as The Duke determined whatever came next. He’d been raised in the old ways, and he took pride in that. Authority. Leadership. Power.
They had value—they still had value—and he was content to follow his leader.
Those traits he prized also came with a price. He understood that—had been raised to understand it—and it was his job to stay in the background and ensure the toll never became too taxing.
In exchange, he was paid handsomely. He had time off. And, most important, his family was cared for in the lap of luxury back in the homeland.
“What about the coordinator? The sleek one who gives orders?”
“Hard at work. She just dealt with the little matter in the lobby.”
“Is she followed?”
“Baldwin’s grandson stays close to her, but she keeps shaking him off. It’s humorous to watch.”
“Then she’s the one. Violet Richardson.”
Alex nodded. “She’s got the least restrictions and moves about as she pleases.”
He’d gotten close several times and had nearly snagged the woman, but each time she’d managed a swift turn to elude him. Her apartment had proven equally challenging, the elegant home in one of Dallas’s newest high-rise buildings sporting state-of-the-art security and surveillance.
They’d moved fully underground at this point, and it was no use risking that. His boss had planned well, though. Alex considered the ease with which they were released from jail and the speed with which they’d gone to ground at The Duke’s hidden property.
The Duke had another name—one well-known in Dallas circles. Tripp Lange was one of the city’s wealthiest men, his riches earned through a combination of hard work and maniacal focus that had moved him from poor immigrant to success.
But that success had come with a price.
They’d still not managed to uncover the location of Tripp’s wife, Diana, despite extensive digging. Her son had whisked her away as he closed in on Lange, and no amount of prodding and poking any of Lange’s contacts in the Dallas PD had managed to uncover her whereabouts.
Tripp wanted the rubies and he wanted his wife back. Violet Richardson and her relationships with the rest of her little wedding troupe were the key to securing both.
“You’ve checked the egress points. You know where you want to take her.”
“It’s all prepared.”
“Then move ahead.”
* * *
Max couldn’t shake the sense that something was out of his reach. He knew that sense—and trusted it to the very depths of his being—which was why he kept up a continuous walk of the perimeter of the ballroom.
The wedding had technically entered its last hour, and he was counting down the minutes to getting them all out of there. He didn’t care if Violet fought him like a she-cat. He was dragging her out the moment they kicked the last guest toward the hotel elevators, or what would likely be a drunken, snaking taxi line. She could come back in the morning and manage any required follow-up.
Things always looked better in daylight.
Which was a fallacy, he well knew. He’d spent many an op during his time in the Army Corps of Engineers in broad daylight and an equal number in those silent hours after midnight. Both could do irreparable damage.
He passed the open ballroom doors, his gaze alighting on the bar, still two and three deep with wedding guests. The image of the guy on the couch nagged at him, and Max headed for the harried row of bartenders still mixing drinks.
A manager he’d noted earlier had added to his duties by bar-backing, and he’d just arrived with two fresh bottles of liquid courage. Max waited until the man logged the liquor before waving him over.
“Hey man, I know you’re busy. I need to ask you something.”
“You’re with the planners, right?” The guy offered a tired smile before he stuck out his hand. “Zach Turner. We do a heck of a lot of events with Elegance and Lace, and they run a smooth party.”
“A rather wild one, if the fact your bartenders haven’t stopped serving is any indication.”
Zach tossed a smile over his shoulder. “Wild, yes. Great tips, an even bigger yes.”
“Did you notice the man out here earlier? Older than the frat boys in the wedding party but not an old relative, if you know what I mean?”
“Elegant guy? Sort of blended in if you didn’t look too hard.” Zach snapped his fingers. “Saw him on the couch over there just before that brawl lit up.”
“That’s the one.”
Max waited another few beats, curious to see if the man made the same connections he had before he inadvertently led the witness.
“Odd guy. He mingled for a bit, talking up the wedding party. I kept an eye on him for a while, not sure if he was hitting on the crowd or trying to pick a few pockets.”
At what Max could only assume was a wash of shock and surprise on his face, Zach continued. “Oh yeah, it happens way more often than you think. People come to a nice event and no one thinks too much about their wallets and purses. But old Uncle Nicky or crazy Aunt Sally sure as hell do.”
Max shook his head, the shock fading into that strange sort of acceptance that came with seeing far too much. “People are an endless surprise.”
“Always. But I’ve been doing this for nearly thirty years. I can usually pick out Cousin Sticky Fingers at twenty paces. Guy gave me an odd vibe, but not a sticky one.”
“What sort of vibe did he give you?”
Zach’s dark gaze narrowed before awareness lit him up like a lightning strike. “You concerned the fight had some chemical enhancement?”
“Yep. No doubt about it. The paramedics didn’t say much, but it was all over the guy’s blown pupils and dead faint to the floor.”
“Well, hell.” Zach gestured toward the long hallway that extended off the ballroom lobby. “Let me hook you up with house security.”
* * *
Violet drifted through her various roles as the wedding wound down. She confirmed with Lilah the top layer of cake was already preserved for the couple’s first anniversary, while the rest of the cake was sliced and individually packaged and waiting for guests to take as they departed. She smiled as the DJ counted off the number of songs left until the big finale, a slow, torchy number that would send the happy couple off on their week-long honeymoon. And she got a full update from the caterer on where they stood on a count of the bar bill.
And silently credited the family’s foresight to go with a flat price per head.
While she appreciated the hearty flow of liquor would no doubt leave a horde of satisfied partygoers in its wake, she immediately shifted her direction to confirm the taxi line was in place and the staff had all eyes on anyone who shouldn’t have keys in hand.
A good number of guests had also reserved rooms at the hotel, which went a long way toward assuaging her concern, but there was still margin for error. Many guests had driven, and they needed a sober driver to make it home.
“This one was a humdinger, Miss Richardson,” the hotel’s doorman boomed at her when she passed, his smile as bright as when she’d walked in at noon.
“That it was, Carl. You keeping an eye on the departures for me?”
“Always. Boss added two extra pairs of eyes on valet, too.”
“Good.”
She kept on toward the exit, the taxi stand housing only two waiting guests who’d obviously decided to skip the rush.
“It was a wonderful evening,” a tottering woman gushed. “I want my son and his fiancée to call you. Do you have a card?”
With a rueful smile for the woman’s husband, Violet pulled a card out of her suit jacket pocket. More than half their business came from satisfied guests who wanted a similar event for themselves, and Violet couldn’t stop the spear of pride at a job well done, despite the craziness that had descended on their lives in the past few weeks. “We’d be delighted to discuss your son’s event.”
The woman’s husband deposited her in a cab as she still hollered about booking an appointment, and Violet could give herself only a moment to watch the proceedings as she waved them off.
Damn, she loved her job.
It was crazy and nuts and often stressful, but she loved it. And she knew she’d found a purpose for her life.
Giggles echoed off the concave ceiling of the porte cochere, and she stepped back to let a tumble of two bridesmaids and three groomsmen hit the taxi line.
“Fun time, Violet.” One of the bridesmaids, named Macy, tossed a pointed look at a groomsman she’d had her eye on all day before pulling Violet in for a big hug. “Fun time.”
“Where are you off to?”
“Uptown for a nightcap.”
Violet suspected she knew what would come after the nightcap and simply waved them on, pleased they were still smart enough to keep the night going in taxis. The lack of a car now meant they’d need another cab for their return trip, which meant she could relax another notch.
“Have fun.”
Macy giggled in her ear, her whisper louder than the woman likely planned. “I mean to.”
They all piled into a minivan cab and off to whatever came next, and Violet gave herself another moment, surprised at the hard clench that tightened her rib cage. The same melancholy that had come over her inside the wedding while hugging the bride hit her once more, the jab swift.
Where had those days gone? The carefree ones that didn’t have an overarching tinge of disappointment or the fear time was marching on without her?
When had thirty begun to feel ancient?
Shaking off the melancholy, she moved out of the way of another couple as they approached the valet station. One glance at the wife—keys in hand—and Violet knew the woman had played the evening’s designated driver, so she kept moving, determined to leave the policing to the hotel staff. They had as vested an interest as she did in ensuring people left their establishment safely, and she’d leave them to it.
An empty lobby stared back at her, indicating no one else was yet ready to depart, and she glanced at her watch before mentally calculating the time left until she needed to find the bride and groom and help see them off.
Figuring she had a good five minutes, she stopped and gave herself one of them.
Why was she so out of sorts?
On a hard exhale, she drifted toward the end of the sidewalk that fronted the hotel before it dropped off toward the driveway to the service entrance. She was close enough to help out in a crisis but far enough away to avoid recognition.
The moment of anonymity was all she needed to get her equilibrium back. Why it had chosen to abandon her during one of the largest events Elegance and Lace had ever put on was a mystery, but she’d worry about that later. For now, she was going to clear her mind, then march back inside and give Kimberly and Jordan an amazing send-off.
In just a minute.
The hot August night wrapped around her in a tight stranglehold, and she was tempted to remove her suit jacket. The cool air from the lobby had diffused some of the heat at the taxi line, but this far away from the door it was absolutely stifling.
A minute was only a minute, though, and she’d already used up half of hers. Stripping was a waste of the time she had left.
“Ever responsible and practical,” she muttered to herself before compromising and unbuttoning the top button of her blouse.
The hot air coated her skin and with it, an image of Max filled her thoughts. A place he’d occupied far too often these last weeks.
Heck, the past year, if she was truly being honest.
She’d noticed him at the first community business meeting he’d attended in the Design District after opening his architectural firm, Dragon Designs. Since getting to know Max and Tucker better, she’d learned that Tucker had abdicated any interest in playing their firm’s business lead and had been more than willing to hand the role over to Max.
Which had put Max and Violet firmly in each other’s orbit.
Even without the pressure of Cassidy and Lilah’s ongoing interest in seeing the two of them get together, Violet could admit that Max did manage to push all her buttons. He was strong and solid. And if she were honest with herself, she liked that he was a bit surly. The man wasn’t a pushover, and it was a trait she admired.
Maybe if they hadn’t gotten involved in the mystery of the jewels under the floor, and maybe if her best friend wasn’t marrying his best friend, things could be different.
A fling, maybe?
Thirty, remember? That small voice that kept her constant company rose up. Call it what it is. An affair.
Violet turned the thought over in her mind. Like sophisticated women had been doing since the dawn of time, she could manage her life and this crazy attraction through a discreet affair in which both knew the score. No pressure for a happy-ever-after or expectations neither had any interest in fulfilling.
She’d scratch the itch and move on.
It would be perfect if it weren’t for the fact that her two best friends were also her daily colleagues. To say each of them missed nothing about the other two was an understatement. Lilah and Cassidy saw everything.
As she did with them.
Which took her right back to square one. Nothing could come of this odd little spark for Max.
The heavy tread of feet interrupted her musings and she shifted her attention, mentally sighing that her minute was gone. It was time to get back to the wedding.
Her gaze caught on a man moving with swift determination up the sidewalk. An odd spark of recognition lit in her gut. Was he a wedding guest?
Or had she seen him somewhere else?
It was only as he closed in on her, his large hands wrapping around her shoulders, that she registered the depth of the threat.
And as a sharp prick hit her neck, she watched the bright lights of Dallas blur before the black took her over.
