Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
GRACE
“You ready for this?” O’Rourke asked as he offered me his arm.
I stared at him for a beat then at the crowd beyond.
We were going in “undercover” which in and of itself meant we went for the fancier clothes.
He was in a standard tuxedo that looked like it had been cut for him.
Not that I didn’t appreciate a good suit, but he’d had that ready to go and easily accessible.
My dress was strapless, a deep sapphire that clung just enough to pass for haute couture but left room for movement. I hated it. No holsters, no wires—nothing but static cling and a pair of heels. I felt almost naked compared to how much I’d gotten used to at least having my taser with me.
I debated taking his arm or just moving alongside him. Really, it wasn’t much of a debate. I didn’t want to touch him. “We should keep our hands free.”
As if to illustrate my point, I gestured with the clutch purse I carried. It was lined, and if we had to x-ray it, should clear fine. If they hand-searched it, well, that would be fun too.
“If you insist,” O’Rourke said just before he cupped my right elbow with his left hand.
“Take your hand off her, or I will remove it with a rusty knife,” AB said via our comms. His tone was gravel, sober, and dead serious. “She said ‘no,’ asshole, listen to her.”
The corners of O’Rourke’s mouth tightened, but his hand fell away from me smoothly. I grinned, my mood definitely buoyed by that backup. We were at the stairs, following a line of other arrivals slowly, one step at a time.
The museum glowed like a Fabergé egg cracked open—light spilled from the marble arches, violin music floated out, and beneath it all was the buzz of money trying to look bored.
I’d gone for a more sedate, if sophisticated look by having my hair braided into a crown. It dramatically changed the lines of my face to have the hair drawn back so snugly.
I’d actually made an appointment with a salon to get my hair, cosmetics, and nails done.
It had taken a little over two hours and that was with me paying them extra for more staff to get it done.
A necessary investment because I needed to both standout and blend in at the same time.
Arm candy needed to have a certain vibe.
Tonight, I was definitely winning a prize in that pretty enough to be here, but not so attractive as to turn heads.
A fine line, but I knew what I had to work with and I focused on it, right down to strapping my breasts until they appeared even smaller than they actually were.
The number of guys who were boob men and would overlook me without the sign of curves might have been staggering if I hadn’t modeled on the runways more than a few times.
At the top of the steps, we slowed further to hand off our invitation, then pass through security. The metal detector was definitely a chokepoint.
“Excuse me, miss,” a suited security guard said to me. “If you’ll just come this way, you can join your date on the other side.”
“See you soon,” I murmured to O’Rourke as I followed the guard to where a line of other women, dressed in similarly sprayed on clothing were being admitted and bypassing the metal detectors.
Some were having their purses go through an x-ray machine. Others were just handing them over to be searched. When it was my turn, I gave up the clutch without argument. The man flicked it open, gave it a cursory glance in between long studying looks at the crowd behind me.
When he finished closing it and handing it back, I flashed him another smile. “Thank you so much.”
I didn’t even merit a grunt of acknowledgment. If anything, he’d barely looked at me. I drifted past, my heels clicking on the stone as I moved to stand near the doors but not in the direct path. O’Rourke hadn’t made it quite through his line yet.
“You were right, Firecracker,” Voodoo murmured. “The idea that some of these men are that blind is just sad for them.”
I didn’t laugh, nor did I respond verbally. Talking to myself while I was standing there alone was more likely to net me the kind of attention we didn’t want.
It took O’Rourke time, but he finally made it through and strode over to meet me. “That took longer than expected.” His tone was more bored than irritated. “Thank you for waiting.”
“I’d say you’re welcome,” I answered, shifting my attention forward as I pivoted to accompany him inside. “But I don’t like you, so you’re not.”
“Oh,” he murmured in a tone dry as the desert. “Ouch. I’m wounded.”
“Keep it up,” I told him with a wider grin before we stepped inside, “and you will be.”
There was a huff of laughter over the comms. “Focus, Gracie,” Legend said. “You can ignore the asshole. If there’s any need to evacuate him, I’ll take care of it.”
“You’re all hilarious,” O’Rourke said as he adjusted his cufflinks before taking two glasses of champagne from a waiter passing by. Rather than argue with him again, I accepted the flute he offered but I didn’t bother to drink.
The temperature inside the wider galleries seemed to drop.
What created a crowded atmosphere in the vestibule and main entry, decreased significantly as we “wandered” away.
I wasn’t familiar with the museum, though AB had gone over the plans with me until I could recite how many steps I needed to take to get to our first destination.
“You want it to be automatic so that when the pressure is on, you don’t have to think about it.”
“Have you considered what you’re going to do once all of this is over?” O’Rourke asked as he caught my arm but only long enough to detour me around another couple who’d planted themselves in front of a painting that took up most of the wall. As soon as we were clear, he released me again.
“Not particularly,” I told him before I passed him the flute. “Could you hold this for me for a moment?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” He flashed me a toothy smile and it took everything I had to not roll my eyes.
“You really want them to beat you up, don’t you?
” I pitched my voice low as I opened the clutch to pull out a tissue even as I popped a few of the beads off the top of the clutch.
With the tissue, I made a show of dabbing at the corners of my mouth before I drifted toward a refuse and dropped the tissue and a couple of the beads in there.
“They’re going to do it anyway,” O’Rourke said with a shrug as he returned the champagne flute to me and I handed him two beads in a pass that was almost smooth.
“Ah,” I said. “So baiting them to make sure it hurts more is the goal.”
“He doesn’t have to bait me,” Legend said easily. “I’m happy to just do it.”
“Focus,” Voodoo said with a faint click in my ear. “Keep the chatter to a minimum. We have to be able to hear.”
I was pretty sure the chatter was for them, but I wouldn’t mind ignoring O’Rourke.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards for this.
We drifted from gallery to gallery, shifting so that we were always with another group of people.
I dropped beads in more than a few pockets, on trays, and even on benches near the paintings.
There were two kinds of beads—one for the cameras, and one for mobility. O’Rourke was better at the second, though I felt pretty damn good about my part.
“Darling…” O’Rourke threaded an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. The only thing that saved him from me tossing the champagne in his face was how he angled himself toward the work on the wall rather than me.
“Hmm?” I tilted my head like I was being flirty as he motioned to the hunting scene above. At least, I was almost eighty percent certain it was a hunting scene. There were dogs, horses, and a bunch of aristocracy all done up in their red coats and finery.
“Target one is here and acquired,” O’Rourke said, leaning his head down toward me so that his lips brushed my ear but not quite looking at me. “Seven o’clock, muddy brown hair, square jaw.”
“Got him,” AB said in my ear. “He’s moving. Get ready to follow.”
My pulse jumped and I twisted away from O’Rourke abruptly to put my champagne flute on a passing waiter’s tray of empties that he was bussing to remove from the venue.
“If you don’t mind,” I said with a genuine smile. The waiter gave me a quick nod and was already gone.
“What we really want to see,” O’Rourke was saying as he caught my hand and motioned ahead, “is the next wing.”
“You’re clear,” AB said following a click. “I’ve got him heading for an exit at the rear of that next gallery.”
My heels clicked along the marble floor as O’Rourke and I made the most indirect, direct beeline after the target. I motioned as if to sneeze and flicked another bead off the bag so it bounced to slide right under a map that told us where we were in the museum.
“Bugs are live.” AB continued. “I’m accessing their system. Standby. We may have to make some noise.”
“Better if we don’t have to,” O’Rourke commented, then he dragged me to him and swung us around so my back was to the wall. Dipping his head as though he were about to kiss me, he murmured, “Don’t kill me.” The words were a whisper across my lips.
“You have three seconds to explain,” I warned him.
“Target two is also here and he was waiting for target one.” O’Rourke didn’t look at all bothered as he slid his hand to my throat—
“Stop. Fucking. Touching. Her.” Legend’s words were a snarl and the hand O’Rourke had been about to touch me with only hovered. For all that he loomed over me, nothing of him was actually touching me.
“They know what I look like,” O’Rourke responded easily enough, as though utterly unperturbed by the threat. “This way we can avoid an ambush of our own.”
“Hmm.” I leaned against the wall, head tilted so I could keep an eye on him. Unfortunately, with his height and bulk, it made keeping an eye on the others a challenge. “Let us know when we’re clear, AB?”
“Got you, Gracie.” AB promised. “Security cycle shifting in ninety seconds. Hold tight.”
Despite the order, O’Rourke was already moving and he had my hand in his. If I didn’t follow, I’d end up on my ass or worse. He walked like a man who didn’t care about orders—straight to the staff hallway near the Roman gallery. He glanced once over his shoulder.
I followed. I had to.
“O'Rourke,” I hissed under my breath. “AB said hold.”
“And I damn near died to get this code,” he retorted as he keyed in a code to the staff entrance.
The keypad blinked green. The door clicked open.
“O'Rourke—”
He didn’t wait. His hand closed around my wrist—not rough, but firm—and he pulled me through before I could argue.
“This wasn’t the plan,” I said in a low hiss.
“Plans change, sweetheart. Get used to it.” He tugged his tie free then opened a button at his throat. “Now stay close. I’ll get you out of here, but you have to stay with me. I’m not slowing down and I’m not back tracking.”
The door shut behind us with a soft thunk.
We were in.
The comms went dead.
Because of course they did.