Chapter Six
Stella walked into The Exchange on Halloween night wearing a tracker under her dress and looking like she’d come to enjoy the party instead of draw out whoever had sent men to take her.
The black dress Colleen had brought fit her like it had been made for her, silver beading catching the amber ballroom light along one side.
The slit opened high when she walked, showing enough leg to distract me while still giving her room to run.
Her white streak cut through her raven hair, and her lipstick was a deep red I’d already thought about ruining.
I was supposed to be paying attention to everyone else.
The tracker was active. Locke had the mirrored feed. My protective gear was concealed beneath a black suit, and the smoking purple drink in my hand contained blackberry, citrus, and no alcohol whatsoever.
Stella lifted her cocktail glass toward mine. Pale vapor rolled over the rim of her Corpse Reviver.
“You look offended by your drink.”
“It’s fruit punch.”
“It’s an artisanal zero-proof Halloween cocktail.”
“It’s smoking.”
“That’s how you know it’s expensive.”
She took a slow sip.
I watched her red mouth touch the glass and reminded myself why I was sober.
The Exchange had spent obscene money making death look elegant. Black gauze draped the balconies. Candle-shaped lights flickered beneath the chandeliers. Guests crossed the ballroom in Venetian masks, elaborate costumes, and enough feathers to destroy peripheral vision.
Servers carried trays of tiny coffin cakes, dark chocolate skulls, bloody-looking tartlets, and almond shortbread shaped like severed fingers.
Stella took one and studied the sliced-almond nail and raspberry filling at the broken end.
“This is either dessert or evidence.”
Then she put the thick cookie between those red lips and bit.
For two seconds, I forgot every person in the room except her.
Stella’s dark eyes lifted to mine. She took another slow bite.
“Problem?”
“Not with the cookie.”
Her smile turned wicked.
I dragged my attention back to the ballroom.
We knew the threat reached inside The Exchange security structure. We didn’t know how high, or whether the person who framed Stella had also ordered the grab at her apartment.
We’d come back to make whoever it was react.
The casino had gone ahead with its already-scheduled Halloween bash despite Bellacorte’s death, and judging by the crowd, very few people had canceled.
That worked for us.
It also meant I had several hundred guests to keep track of without looking like I was tracking any of them.
Stella finished the cookie and wiped one spot of raspberry from her thumb with a napkin.
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you stop blinking because you’re counting exits.”
“I’m blinking.”
“Not enough to look normal.”
“I don’t think anyone is counting.”
“I am.”
I glanced down at her.
She took another sip of her cocktail.
“One drink,” she said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking something.”
“I was thinking you should keep it with you instead of setting it down.”
“That’s reasonable.”
“I occasionally am.”
“You’re becoming repetitive.”
Her hand slipped lightly through the bend of my arm as a group in elaborate masks passed behind us.
We’d decided before coming in that we weren’t going to advertise the bodyguard arrangement more than necessary. Anyone who knew Stella had Bancroft protection would know why I was there. Everyone else could see a man in a suit attending a party with a woman in a black dress.
That made anyone paying too much attention easier to notice.
A server stopped beside us with a tray of tiny black cones filled with something pale.
Stella examined one.
“What is it?”
“Goat cheese mousse, pear, and black sesame,” the server said.
She took one. I didn’t.
Stella ate it and raised her eyebrows at me.
“You’re missing out.”
“I’m working.”
“You can protect me and eat cheese at the same time.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“It is.”
She selected another and held it near my mouth.
I stared at her fingers.
“You’re serious.”
“I’m testing your range of abilities.”
I leaned down and took the bite.
Stella smiled.
“Excellent. We can add canapé consumption to the list.”
“I feel more qualified already.”
She laughed softly.
The tightness I’d carried into the ballroom eased a little.
I wanted her to have the ridiculous food, the cocktail, and the chance to stand in a crowded room on Halloween and tease me because my drink offended her. She’d spent the last three days with murder, police questions, an abduction attempt, and reinforced doors.
A man in a dark tailored suit approached from the edge of the ballroom.
He wasn’t wearing a costume. His security credential hung openly near his jacket pocket, and two Exchange employees stepped aside as he passed.
He stopped a few feet from us.
“Ms. Moon.”
The voice was enough. I’d heard it through Stella’s phone two mornings ago.
It was Mikhail Volkov.
Stella’s fingers tightened slightly against my arm.
Volkov looked to be in his forties, fit without being bulky, his suit cut cleanly enough that he could’ve passed for senior management even without the credential. His expression stayed composed as he turned to me.
“And Mr. DiNero, I assume.”
“That’s right.”
Volkov extended his hand.
I shook it once. His grip was firm and ordinary.
“I’m Mikhail Volkov. We spoke by phone, Ms. Moon.”
“I remember.”
“I was surprised when I heard you were attending tonight.”
Stella lifted her cocktail.
“I had plans.”
His gaze touched the glass, then returned to her face.
“I hope the event is at least providing a distraction.”
“Your bartenders are doing their best.”
“I’m glad.”
Nothing in his tone told me whether my suspicion belonged anywhere near the truth.
Volkov faced me again.
“We’ve increased security since Mr. Bellacorte’s death.”
“I noticed.”
“You’re welcome to speak with me if you need anything while you’re here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
His attention shifted briefly across the ballroom.
“We’re dealing with an unusual situation. I’d rather avoid another incident.”
“So would I.”
Stella kept her hand on my arm.
Volkov addressed her again.
“I meant what I said on the phone. If you need assistance, you only have to ask.”
“I already have assistance.”
His expression barely changed.
“Yes. I can see that.”
I wanted to keep him talking, but one of his staff approached and murmured something near his shoulder.
Volkov listened, then nodded to us.
“Enjoy the evening.”
He left with the employee.
Stella waited until he disappeared into the crowd.
“That was creepy.”
“It was polite.”
“That was my problem.”
“You preferred him threatening you?”
“I’d prefer him developing a sudden interest in another city.”
“That would be convenient.”
She finished the last of her Corpse Reviver.
“I’m done.”
I took the empty glass and put it on a passing tray.
“You’re all right?”
“One drink hasn’t touched me.”
“I wasn’t asking about the drink.”
Stella glanced in the direction Volkov had gone.
“I’m fine.”
I didn’t ask twice.
The music shifted into something heavier, bass vibrating through the floor while a costumed couple crossed the dance area near us.
Stella tipped her head toward them.
“We’re supposed to look like we came to a party.”
“We do.”
“We’re standing beside a wall.”
“I like walls.”
“I know.”
She held out her hand.
I stared at it.
“Dance with me.”
“I don’t dance while I’m working.”
“That sounded suspiciously like a rule you invented three seconds ago.”
“It’s a good rule.”
“Geo.”
I took her hand.
The smile she gave me was worth the disadvantage.
We stayed near the edge of the dance floor, close to the route we’d chosen before entering. I rested one hand at Stella’s waist while she stepped nearer.
“You look deeply uncomfortable.”
“I’m looking over your shoulder.”
“You’re supposed to look at me occasionally.”
“That’s more dangerous.”
Her mouth curved.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I pulled her closer for half a second.
Stella’s eyes softened.
Then two security employees near one of the ballroom entrances stopped talking. One touched his earpiece. The other turned sharply toward the casino floor.
I stopped.
Stella felt it immediately.
“What?”
“I don’t know yet.”
A security supervisor came toward us faster than the situation around him justified.
“Mr. DiNero.”
I shifted Stella behind my right shoulder without letting go of her.
“What happened?”
“We have a report of an armed male inside the event perimeter. He may be connected to the threat against Ms. Moon.”
Stella’s fingers closed around the back of my jacket.
“Where?” I asked.
“East entrance. He’s moving this direction.”
Guests were still dancing. Most hadn’t noticed anything.
“What makes you think he’s connected?”
“He matches the description attached to the prior threat report.”
“We’re leaving.”
The supervisor nodded.
“I can get you to—”
“We have our own route.”
I took Stella’s hand.
“Stay with me.”
“I’m right here.”
We started for the secondary exit we’d identified before the event.
We were less than twenty feet away when a woman screamed.
The crowd broke apart ahead of us.
A man in a black half-mask shoved through two guests and reached inside his jacket.
I saw the gun as it cleared the fabric.
I pushed Stella behind a stone column.
“Get down.”
She dropped as the man turned our way.
I hit his gun arm before he could level the weapon and drove him sideways into a high cocktail table. The gun fired into the ceiling.
People screamed and scattered. Glass shattered behind me.
I clamped both hands around his wrist and slammed it into the table.
He fought instead of trying to escape.
I drove my elbow into his jaw.
His grip opened. The gun hit the floor, and I kicked it beyond his reach.
He came at me again.
I hit him in the throat and under the ribs. He folded as two Exchange officers rushed in.
“Geo!”
I turned toward Stella’s voice.
She was no longer behind the column.
Security personnel and panicked guests filled the space between us. I caught one glimpse of her black dress and white streak several yards away.
Volkov was beside her.
“Stella!”