Chapter 2
Poison
Code red means one thing...you guess
T he gala is what I expected. Infested with too good for you, rich freaks with too much money to drain.
It all makes me sick to my stomach to be involved in this atrocity again. I haven’t been to a ball of any kind for twelve years now. The only time I would go was if my father forced us to go in order to make himself look like the doting father figure of the year. People love to see the facade of a family man. No one cared to look close enough, because if they did, they wouldn't like what they see.
However, it’s all for the greater good. For the mission. To finally see what Victor has up his sleeve and why he chose to lure me here. Either I’m being idiotic or catching the bull by the horns before he wreaks more havoc. That’s why it was so imperative I saw the outline of this place before coming here. I won’t be caught off guard like I was with Fred.
Instead of Victor, I decided that every last person stepping into this place would be scanned by the eye recognition device. The technology would send their pictures to Bedford, giving us a snippet of everything about them, down to their favorite foods. What you don’t know will kill you . I’d rather be safe than sorry.
There are people scattered everywhere, propped with flashy sequin dresses, overly expensive perfumes, and decorative masks. The perfect scene to let a monster run rampant. It hides all the destruction behind pretty cloth and shining jewels, meanwhile evil is evident in your face.
I circle my hands behind my back, scanning the room for my team. The capacity is not too bad. Approximately a hundred people at best. Maybe more.
I walk past a large fountain with a glowing red light, pouring out water to make it resemble blood. I shake my head at the ridiculous item.
What the fuck is this for?
I continue strolling about until my eyes land on Boone, who comes into view from across the room. I nod, turning the other way. Our goal is simple. We take out any noticeable guards that are working for Victor. It’s obvious. They all wear black with headsets attached to their ears. Mercenaries, no doubt. When we kill them, that gives us an advantage. Once we complete that, we will corner Victor in his office. And I’ll take care of the rest.
I walk through the banquet hall, where more guests mingle, all waltzing around in interesting masks. This part is good for me, allowing me to remain hidden behind the mask of fake people. In case Victor appears. He may not notice me, but I don’t want to give him the chance to know who I am. Not until he's hanging by his own intestines.
“Bedford eyes on everything.” I look around the room naturally, not seeming like the weird guy talking to himself.
“Got it,” Bedford states back. Taking notice that more guests are arriving. My calculations are wrong.
Two hundred people.
I look over my shoulder, setting eyes on every corner of the room. A bodyguard at each one. I head to the grand staircase, my focus still on the look-out for Mal and Anita. I roll up my sleeve, checking my watch.
Where the hell is she?
More people are lined up on the mezzanine, sipping wine from a gold-rimmed flute. Classical music fills the background while some of them sway and move in the middle of the room. A waiter wearing a black and white suit with an eye mask carries a tray beneath his palm. I grab onto the flute and lean on the cemented beam sitting in the middle of the balcony. I don’t typically drink, only every once in a while. But I need to look normal and fit in.
Taking another sip, because the bubbly isn't so bad; that’s when I saw her. Strolling into the banquet area, a black eye mask with gold spikes, and a hand purse clutched to her torso. Her presence alone shines brighter than the jewelry she wears. I only know it’s her because only she can own the fucking room like this, and I can never forget that sexy ass black dress that fits her sexy curves in every way imaginable. I could’ve—no, should've , ripped it to shreds and claimed her body right there in front of that mirror.
I almost did. It was highly tempting. Instead, I only wanted to touch her like an obsessed freak and smell her delicious scent. It's hard not to when her skin is so soft, and her presence alone makes my pulse skyrocket.
Like a magnet drawn to metal, her eyes rise, locking dead on mine. My heart knocks against my rib cage, the rhythm erratic. Almost as if she sensed the energy of my lingering gaze sketching her out. The magnetic attraction is so raw and pure, there’s no denying we’re meant to be more than cordial teammates.
I tip my glass to her before pressing the rim to my lips, drinking in every last bit of her like this champagne.
She only hoods her lashes up at me before sauntering toward the bar. Owning the area, she merges in between a man and women, leaning over the bar, her hip tipping to the side. My mouth parts as I lower my gaze down to her ass, then to her slender waist. Images of last night flips through my head like a presentation.
Fuck me.
A tug in my pants is what jolts me upward. Fuck. Focus. Focus.
I turn away from the tempting view, jamming down on my jaw to stop myself. Just then, a vibration signals in my pocket. My heart picks up. “He’s here,” I say as another waiter walks past. I place my half drunken glass atop his plate.
“Twelve o’clock,” Mal speaks through.
I immediately look forward, eyes falling on a man wearing a platinum mask designed to resemble a devil's face with long curved horns. Five bodyguards post behind him, and I already know.
That’s Victor.
He strolls through with a limp, which I remember vividly. Obnoxious rings line his fingers, and he is wearing a crimson-colored shirt paired with a gray tux.
My nostrils flare as I lean onto the balcony, my hands gripping the pole. Control yourself. I repeat to myself as many times as I can, but it's difficult to keep myself at bay when all I want to do is hop over this banister and jam several champagne flutes into his neck.
Seeing him again forms a tight twist in my chest. It’s been years since I have come near face to face with the man who bashed me in the head with the pipe before dragging us to their lair. The man who got off on mutilating my body.
He introduces himself to others, chatting about with a poise of superficial arrogance.
“Eyes on the prize,” Boone says at the same time as he walks by Victor. He stumbles right into him, champagne in his hand, spilling most of its contents on his jacket. I move, floating behind the props.
“Shit, man, I'm sorry I didn’t see you there,” Boone says, going in to brush off Victor's jacket, slipping a tiny GPS tracker into his jacket pocket undetected.
Victor scowls, raising his hands up. “Fuck off, drunk.”
His bodyguards puff out their chests, immediately going on a ten in his defense, shoving Boone back from their precious human. Not so precious after I get to him. “Someone get this piece of shit out of my party.”
My eyes skate around as other men in black walk toward the issue. Boone lifts his hands, walking backward, but the two guards grab Boone at the shoulders, and he allows it. That's not too good for them. “Aye, man,” he slurs as they drag Boone off, and I have no worries, because I know he’ll handle it.
Victor huffs like a petulant child, swiping away the rest of the contents.
I divert back to Victor, who heads to the bar. “Incoming at the bar,” I say, my heart thumping at the sight of him seeing her. Anita touches her ear before straightening up.
People shuffle out his way as he raises his hand to the bartender. They arrive with several napkins, and the asshole snatches them, then goes to work on his soiled jacket. A few seconds later, the bartender is back with Anita's drink. He catches sight and lifts his head slightly, landing directly on her ass. My stomach lurches with anger. Every part of my body stiffens as I watch Victor practically undress her with his eyes.
Would it ruin the mission if I were to slice his neck right here?