Centurion (Guardian Security Shadow World #14)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

J ackie Harriger stood at the top of the stairs, looking into the grand hall below. A pantheon of Greek Gods and mythical creatures swirled in time with the music supplied by the orchestra. The masquerade ball celebrated haute couture, elite money, and the well-born people who ran the world. No, not the politicians or the latest IPO billionaire, but old money. They were the privileged and affluent men and women who whispered their desires to those in the highest of places.

The woman hosting the event wore a design Jackie had created. A one of a kind original. Jackie searched the sea of sheer chiffon, liquid silk, and sculpted velvet dresses. Her design was easy for her to pick out. The Greek styling and drape of the garment were enhanced with opulent embroidery of gold, royal blue, and silver threading. Her hostess had adorned the dress with a serpent bracelet that wound up her arm, a massive square diamond necklace, and matching earrings. But, this night, Jackie wasn’t there as a designer. No, tonight, her eyes moved from the designs and fabrics to the masks covering the faces of the ultra-wealthy.

“Anything yet?” the grumpy-assed voice in her ear asked.

She looked around to make sure she was alone before answering, “I’ve been here a total of three minutes, Joseph. Give me a break.” Jackie did not use the handrail to aid her descent down the staircase. Any woman of a certain breeding knew how to make an entrance. With her head held level, never looking at the stairs, she floated down the marble staircase.

She saw the turn of heads and ignored them. Of the elite in the room, she was in the top one percent of the top one percent. The people below her just didn’t know it. Born Gabrielle Jacqueline Xavier, the spoon in her mouth wasn’t silver but a red diamond-encrusted rhodium. Her father could buy and sell the richest people in that room many times.

“Centurion, we’ve confirmed yet another dark net mention of the gala,” Jewell King, the only operator in Guardian’s computer branch her father would allow her to work with, said over her comm device. Jackie, who went by the code name Centurion or Ronnie when she was working for Guardian, took a glass of champagne from a waiter as he paused beside her, then lifted it to her lips, whispering behind the crystal, “About Abrasha?”

“No, and that’s concerning. It was about a transaction, but that’s all I have right now. Damn it. I wish Con were working.” Jewell fell quiet after that comment.

“Ronnie, keep your eyes open. My gut tells me there’s more going on than just rumors of Abrasha attending,” Joseph growled.

She made a humming noise in acknowledgment and continued walking through the crowd. The press of people were adorned with beautiful gold and silver masks. Gilded visages of Zeus, Hercules, Apollo, and Ares covered men’s faces, while the women wore masks depicting Hera, Demeter, Athena, Artemis, and Aphrodite. Ronnie smiled behind her mask. She’d chosen Persephone, Queen of the Underworld and spring growth, as her mask. Persephone split her time between the underworld and Earth, explaining ancient Greek culture's seasons. It also summarized the dichotomy of her work for Guardian and her life outside those confines. When she was above ground, she was happy and warm. When she worked and hunted for Guardian, she became the darkness, lived in the shadows, and embraced the absence of light.

Ronnie moved through the crowd, looking for men of the general stature of Abrasha Molchalin and the sound of a Russian accent or the language itself. She skirted the crowd gathered around their hostess, listening to the conversations as she made her way through the crowd.

At the sound of a conversation in Russian, Ronnie changed directions. “Tracking,” she said as she pretended to take another sip of her champagne.

Ronnie weaved through the crowd, far enough behind the group of men, so she wouldn’t be noticed, yet close enough to ensure they didn’t duck into one of the many corridors leading away from the grand hall.

She walked past waiters carrying trays laden with Greek delicacies. The orchestra’s music floated in the air—a mix of modern songs and ancient melodies evoking the grandeur of bygone days. The gala’s exhibits were performance art pieces that brought the old Greek tales of heroes, gods, and villainous beasts to life. Ronnie lost sight of the men she was following, and with the finesse of a ballet dancer, she changed direction and moved through the crowd, backtracking her target. She went back to the last place she’d seen them.

The crowd around her swelled and blocked her turn. Ronnie realized too late she was too close to the men she’d been following. She dipped through a small opening and skittered around a plaster replica of a Grecian column. Not expecting the banquette seating behind it, Ronnie ran into the arm of the seat. The force with which she hit the furniture sent her forward.

Strong hands grabbed her and kept her from sprawling onto the floor. She twisted as she fell and managed to land in the lap of the man sitting on the couch. Her mask slipped down from the abrupt drop. The mask she stared at was one not many would wear. Hermes. The god of thieves, known for his quick wit and cunning.

A smile formed on the man’s lips. Recognition of that sexy-as-hell smile was instantaneous as she hissed, “What are you doing here?”

“Who? Who’s there? What happened?” Joseph’s voice grumbled in her ear.

“Standby,” Ronnie hissed and tapped her earpiece. “How?” She looked around her. No one noticed them in the dark little corner of the grand hall.

“Hello to you, too, Ronnie.” Con’s voice was filled with laughter. “I’m glad you decided to drop by.”

Ronnie narrowed her eyes and lifted her mask back into place. Just because the man was insanely good-looking … Wait, what? No. Just no . She tried to sit up, but it was next to impossible with the yards of silk around her. “What are you doing here?” she asked as she grabbed at the fabric and tried to leverage herself onto the couch, if not her feet.

“Centurion, update before I send in the cavalry.” That was Archangel.

Ronnie tapped her earpiece. “Con’s here.”

“What? Totally cool,” Jewell said with a laugh.

“How in the hell? That’s the most exclusive ticket in the world,” Fury growled.

“Who’s in your ear?” Con asked.

“Fuck my life. It is him. Can I never get a fucking break?” Joseph shouted.

“Why is he there?” Archangel asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out if you’d kindly give me the chance. Con, help me up, damn it.”

Con laughed and shoved his hand under her legs and behind her back, casually lifting her as he stood up . Damn, the man was strong. He deposited her on her feet, and she grabbed at him when her Jimmy Choo crystal hotfix pumps snagged in her dress. His arms banded around her, and she fell into him again. His strong body under his Armani tux had no give in it. That had confused her when she’d first met him. Her handlers had told her she would be taking a computer nerd with her on a HALO jump to that island. She didn’t expect the six-foot-three-inch Adonis she met in the hangar.

Ronnie bent backward and unhooked her heel from the draping of her skirt, looking up just in time to see the group of Russians walking her way. Con’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. “Fuck, that’s Abrasha?—”

Ronnie grabbed his cheeks, pulled him down to her, and planted a kiss on his lips. It was the only thing she could think of to shut Con up. After his momentary surprise, Con’s arms tightened around her, and he took over the kiss. God above, he could kiss. Ronnie let her hands drop to his shoulders. She heard the Russians walk past them, then she pulled away, breaking one of the best kisses she’d ever had the pleasure of receiving.

Con stared down at her, and the heat in his eyes fueled her lust as much as that kiss had. She put her arms around him and whispered, “How do you know what he looks like?” Ronnie glanced around him because she was too short to see over his shoulder, even in her four-inch heels. “They’re going across the dance floor. Come on, dance me over to where they are.” She grabbed Con’s hand, and he followed. She turned to him, and he led her into a Viennese Waltz. She followed his lead, and they circled the dance floor.

“Centurion, status.”

“Con recognized the target.”

Con’s eyes scanned the crowd, and he subtly changed his direction and moved them closer to the group of Russians now walking outside the dance floor in the direction of where the hostess was holding court.

“He would. We just finished a mission where we almost got the bastard.” Joseph sounded begrudging when he admitted that. “What in the hell is he doing there?”

Ronnie listened to the conversation going on in her ear. “They want to know why you’re here.”

Con kept them on a whirling circuit, following the group of men acting nonchalant but making a direct line toward the other side of the grand hall. “A family obligation,” Con said as he twirled and led them through the crowded floor. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but as I saw your target, it would be redundant.” He glanced down at her. “What can I do to help?”

“Tell him to leave,” Joseph rasped out.

“No, don’t. He’s seen Abrasha. Ask him if he’s certain,” Archangel countered his brother’s directive.

“Are you sure about your ID of the target?” Ronnie whispered to Con.

Con nodded. “I’d bet my life on it. Did you count five men with him?”

“Six,” she replied. “One trailing by about ten feet but always shadowing. The bodyguards would have stopped him if he wasn’t with the group.”

The men stopped walking forward. They were on the corner of the dance floor. “Shit.” Ronnie could feel the tension in the group.

“What’s going on?” Joseph demanded.

Con spun her in and out of the couples on the dance floor. “Have they spotted us?”

“No, but they stopped. Something’s about to go down. I just don’t know what.”

She twisted as he turned her to keep her eyes on the group of men. They weren’t looking toward the dance floor but rather to the area to the right of where the hostess was located. “Jewell, to the right of the hostess. Far corner. That area is holding their attention.” Ronnie felt the direction change as Con moved them toward that corner. The music changed to a Tango, and they stopped dancing. Con escorted her off the floor. He took two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handed her one while putting his arm around her.

“Got it. Hold on, running facial rec on those without a mask,” Jewell replied.

“Jackie! Jackie, there you are.” Ronnie stopped in her tracks and turned around as their hostess made her way to them. Sophia sighed. “Oh, please take those horrid masks off. I’ve had such a time tonight trying to identify people—my mistake for insisting on a masquerade ball. You shouldn’t hide such a beautiful face. This place is literally dripping with eligible bachelors, my dear. I know you’re career-minded, but marrying above your class isn’t something to sneeze at, you know.”

Ronnie blinked at the woman’s comments as she removed her mask. She wanted nothing more than to get back to her mission. Instead, she was listening to the woman demean her. How wonderful. “I wanted to tell you my gown is the talk of the gala. I’m so glad I decided to invite you on a last-minute whim. I’ll introduce you to several ladies who’ve expressed an interest in having you design their gowns. You can thank me for the large commissions later.” Sophia looked over at Con, and Ronnie could see the distaste in her gaze. She was absolutely positive she detested the woman before; now, her distaste was cemented. “I didn’t know you and Mr.Solomon knew each other.”

Conner bent at the waist in acknowledgment. “Sophia, you look amazing as always.” Conner turned to look at her. “We met almost a year ago on an island getaway. I believe you were there for work, right?”

“I was.” Ronnie hurriedly changed the subject. “I’d love to meet the ladies, Sophia, but I was just heading off the dance floor to freshen up. Can I circle back in about ten minutes or so?” She used her free hand to fan herself.

“Absolutely. Conner, tell your mother I’m terribly upset she couldn’t make it or at least send your older brother.”

Ronnie felt that verbal slap as if a Louisville slugger had delivered it. Damn, that was rude. But Conner only chuckled. “I’m sorry as well, and I’ll be sure to let her know you’re disappointed in the family representation.”

Sophia’s eyebrow raised. “I didn’t mean to offend you, of course.”

Bullshit. Ronnie knew how snide the woman was from her interactions while designing the dress.

“No, of course not.” Conner smiled politely. “If you’ll excuse us?” He put his arm around Ronnie’s waist and moved them away from the hostess.

“Bitch,” Jewell said in her earpiece.

“Man, I don’t like Con, but I like that one even less,” Joseph agreed.

“I have six people in that general area. Two more just took off their masks. The lighting is terrible, but I’m running the faces,” Jewell said as Ronnie and Con headed toward the area.

“I’m sorry about her,” Ronnie said to Con as they both deposited the untouched champagne onto an empty tray from a passing waiter.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” Con shrugged off the comment. “They’re moving.” He turned her, his arm still around her waist so she could see.

Ronnie asked, “Jewell, are you getting this?”

“I am,” Jewell confirmed.

The power went out as the men approached a couple in the corner. “Shit.” Ronnie grabbed Con’s arm. Gunshots rang out. She jerked Con down as she talked among the screams and sounds of breaking glasses. “Shots fired.” Con covered her with his big body, which was a pain in the ass. The gun fired again. Four shots so far.

“Centurion, do not engage,” Archangel said.

“Too many people,” she agreed and elbowed Con. “Move, I have to get up.”

He didn’t move. She pushed on him. “Are you hurt?”

“No, and it’s too damn dark for you to do anything. Wait for the lights to come back on,” Con growled.

“He’s right. Fuck, I hate it when he’s right,” Joseph agreed.

A single gunshot sent the crowd into screams and hysteria. “That was an assassination,” Joseph said.

“It was,” Ronnie agreed. The sound of the crowd screaming again swelled. She elbowed Con again, which forced a grunt from the guy. She said, “Seriously, get off me.”

Con moved, and she stood up. His hand found the small of her back. He was right. There were no windows, and even the generator-enabled emergency exit lights were dark. She couldn’t see shit. Wait … there. “Con, to your right, do you see that?”

Was she imagining it? No, there were dots.

“Blue dots on the floor.”

“An escape route,” Ronnie said as she stepped forward, damn near falling when she stepped on a person. “Jewell, can you do something about the power?”

“Working it. Damn it. Hold on.” The sound of Jewell heaving in her ear made Ronnie gag a bit.

“Sorry. I’m back.” Jewell’s voice sounded horrid.

“Button?” Joseph’s voice was the softest Ronnie had ever heard it.

“I’m okay,” Jewell croaked. Con grabbed Ronnie’s waist just as the lights came on. “That wasn’t me!” Jewell exclaimed.

It didn’t matter who it was. Ronnie leaped over the terrified people on the floor, and she and Conner sprinted, not in the direction of the gunfire but in the direction the blue dots had been leading.

“That’s what the guy following him was doing,” Conner said as they sprinted toward the exit. His theory made sense. Any hope of getting to the exit the shooters used was immediately futile. Escape was on the mind of every one of the six hundred people in attendance. A wave of humanity sprinted toward the same exit they were aiming at.

“Damn. We’re not going to get to them,” Ronnie said as people pushed and shoved in a terrified crush to get out of the facility.

Conner pulled her into a small alcove area, shielding her from the shoving of the crowd. “CCS, what happened in that corner?”

“Working it.” That was Zane’s voice. Jewell’s husband was a constant by her side. She could hear Jewell in the background, and the woman did not sound like she was well at all.

“Access the cameras on the outside of the building,” Con said. “Get into the traffic cameras. Check the most direct route to the airport first. All license plates need to be run. Probably a rental car. Cross-reference against all agencies’ databases for currently leased vehicles.” He seemed to be running the op through his mind.

Ronnie heard Jewell get sick again and looked up at Con. “Jewell’s sick. She’s puking like a fountain.”

“A picture I didn’t need,” Joseph replied snidely.

“You're welcome,” Ronnie said as they waited for the press of people to clear.

Con said a few choice words before adding, “My computer is back at the hotel. Without it, I’m dead in the water, but I can get this processed if she’s down.”

Ronnie knew Con’s words were heard through her mic, so she didn’t bother to repeat his offer to help.

Joseph barked, “Centurion, you and Con, get out of there. Ask Con if he can hook up securely from his hotel.”

Ronnie relayed the question, and he nodded. “There’s a government building next door to the hotel. I’ve hijacked their encryption, but Jewell will have to let me past that monster of hers.”

“He said yes,” Ronnie answered.

“No, he didn’t. He droned on for a fucking hour answering a simple question,” Joseph grumped.

“Both of you get over to his hotel. Button, do I need to bring in others?” Archangel asked as Ronnie motioned for them to leave. Con, bless his big body, made a hole in the masses, and they headed out of the building.

“No.” Jewell sighed. “I’m fine. As soon as I see him, I’ll confirm and grant access.”

“You don’t sound fine,” Ronnie said as she and Con moved with the spooked crowd.

The night air was cool as they stumbled out. Con grabbed her hand. “This way.” He pointed toward the back of the compound that was hosting the gala.

“The back?”

“I always park at the back at these things. Parking for the staff always has extra spaces. That way, I don’t have to wait for my car to be brought to me.” Con walked faster than she could in her high heels.

“Hold on.” She stopped and slipped off her shoes, hooking the straps on one finger. She nodded. “Okay, let’s hustle.” Ronnie lifted her skirt, and they ran to the back entrance. The lights on a McLaren flashed, and Ronnie headed to the car. Con got in at the same time as she did. The engine fired, and he floored it. The car careened around the corner and was through the gate as stunned employees still flooded out of the back exits.

“What’s wrong with Jewell?” Con glanced at her for a second before his attention returned to the road.

“I don’t know, and they haven’t said.” She put her shoes back on. “Do we have anything on what happened in the corner?”

Archangel answered her question, “No. That will be Con’s job when he gets online. And by the way, you can stop kicking yourself; this was a surveillance-only situation. We should have had a team there to support you.”

“Copy.” Archangel was right; she was kicking herself over losing Abrasha, and yeah, maybe she should’ve had backup. It eased the sting of not being able to move when there was zero lighting.

Con shifted and then looked over at her. “What did he say?”

She looked at Con and shook her head. “You’ll have to do it when you get online.”