Chapter 9 Anna
NINE
ANNA
Istep inside an opulent ballroom at eight o’clock the next night, the sparkling red fabric of my gown stretching all the way to my manicured toes, the plunging neckline demanding I use tape to keep everything in, and my arm wrapped securely around Carter’s…
since he latched on the instant I emerged from my car.
Tonight’s event comes with a winter wonderland theme, with sharp black tablecloths and crisp white everything else.
White rose centerpieces adorn every single one of the two dozen round tables, and expensive crockery sits in front of each chair.
Place cards await each guest, sparkling crystal wineglasses are passed around, and a projector of some sort casts a snowy backdrop onto every wall.
A live band plays at the head of the room, with violins resting upon the shoulders of sharply suited violinists, a grand piano off to the side, the keys gently massaged by a gifted musician, and a woman draped in white sways in front of them all, caressing a microphone between her palms and singing of chestnuts and mistletoe.
“Boujee as hell,” Dean murmurs, leaning entirely too close—much closer than brothers stand by their sisters—until his lips feather across the shell of my ear. “Save me a dance, won’t you, Counselor?”
“Oh! It’s my lieutenant.” Oblivious to Dean’s inappropriate proximity, Carter damn near claps his hands with excitement, swinging his eyes around to mine. “And Captain Bosmian!” He’s a child, and I’m… the toy he’s been begging to play with for a while now. “I’d love to introduce you, Anna.”
“Uh… well…”
“Come on.” He doesn’t actually care for my preference, he simply tightens his arm and leads me across the packed room, through guests and around a table brimming with canapes.
Dean happily follows, a cavalier grin on his lips and no shame in how he snags a glass of wine and scoops food off the table as we pass. He juggles things in just one hand, babying his bad side, and wears a suit—damn, it fits well—the way it was intended.
His shoulder must be aching, the joint swelling and purpling more with each day that passes.
He hardly speaks of it, and though he could have kept the limb wrapped securely against his chest, opting to wear his suit differently, or better yet, he could have minded his own damn business and not landed us both at this dumb dinner in the first place, he cheerfully walks amongst people who look at him like they know he’s a criminal, nibbling on his snacks and nodding toward anyone who dares meet his bruised eyes.
“Detective James.” An older man, round in the midsection and furry on his chin, beams as we approach. They shake hands, pumping until the action rolls up through Carter’s arm and out to vibrate mine, then the Santa-Claus-lookalike glances my way. “Oh my. She’s as pretty as you bragged.”
Carter’s cheeks burn bright red, his ears practically glowing. “Captain Bosmian, it’s my sincere pleasure to formally introduce you to Anna Maxwell. Anna,” he gestures toward his boss. “Captain Bosmian.”
“He’s claimed you as his own for months already,” Dean snickers in my ear, noisily chomping down on a… I don’t even know. Squid, maybe.
“Captain Bosmian.” I accept the older man’s hand, but as he brings my knuckles to his lips, I grit my teeth and keep myself from reacting poorly.
Like, slapping his jowls poorly.
“It’s nice to meet you outside the courtroom.”
His eyes alight, his mouth dropping open.
“Of course! I thought I recognized you from somewhere.” He releases me—thank God—and settles back in shiny black leather shoes.
“It always amazes me how a beautiful woman can wear a suit during daylight hours, and a gown such as this at night; same woman, two entirely different looks. But your eyes, Ms. Maxwell, remain vigilant no matter the venue.”
“You consider me vigilant?” Well spotted, you pompous prick.
I haven’t forgotten your chortling laugh on the stand last year when you considered my questioning not nearly as important as my co-counsel’s.
“It’s a busy week.” I offer him my kindest, fakest, bitchiest smile.
“I have a lot to do over the holiday break, and, as you know, January means jumping headfirst into the new year. What you call vigilance, I consider weariness.”
“But we don’t speak of work while we’re here.” He dips his left hand into his pocket, wrapping the right around a delicate crystal flute. “I always felt discussing business after hours to be distasteful.”
“Oddly, I’ve always enjoyed both facets of my life equally.” Grinning—fake, fake, fake—I steal Dean’s half-empty glass and swallow a greedy gulp. “I hope tonight’s event has raised significant funds for underprivileged youth?”
“The numbers appear positive so far.” Bosmian casts his beady-eyed stare across to Dean. Watching… waiting… for someone to find their manners and introduce the pair.
“Captain Bosmian.” Doing it himself, Dean offers his hand and an entirely pleasant smile. “Dean Warner, sir. Nice to meet you.”
“Dean is Anna’s brother,” Carter inserts helpfully. “He’s in town for a few days to visit his sister. I wanted Anna to accompany me tonight, sir, but I didn’t want to rob her of a chance to spend time with her family.”
“So you invited him too.” The old man accepts Dean’s handshake, pumping and squeezing the way insecure men do. “You’re very generous, Mr. Warner, to share your limited time with the ambitious Ms. Maxwell.” His brows twitch higher on his forehead. “Ms. Maxwell, Mr. Warner. Different surnames?”
“Same mother,” Dean answers easily. “Different fathers.” Releasing Bosmian, he throws his arm over my shoulders and tugs me close. “I love her with my whole heart, sir. Doesn’t she look absolutely stunning this evening?”
“Stunning indeed,” Bosmian accepts.
On my right, Carter’s eyes narrow.
“Detective James.” Dismissing us, Bosmian turns to Carter. “I received your report this afternoon. You got a positive ID on one of the heist three?”
“What?” I choke out a squeaky breath and scuttle closer, wrapping my arm around Carter’s. “There’s been an arrest?”
Dean chuckles behind me, the sound barely loud enough to tickle my eardrum, then he turns away and heads back to the snack table.
“No arrests yet,” Bosmian answers, gesturing proudly toward Carter.
“But I’m impressed with the legwork Detective James has put in on this case.
It’s not easy following three ghosts through a city they seem to know quite well, and it’s especially difficult working such a high-profile case.
These men have made off with diamonds in excess of twenty-million dollars in the last month alone.
Our citizens want names, they want justice, and as quickly as it can happen, they want those men behind bars. ”
“I think I got lucky,” Carter preens, rubbing his hand over mine.
He strokes my fingers with the tips of his. Like we’re actually a couple!
“Friday night’s attempt appears less thought out than those previously. Greed often leads to arrogance. And arrogance commonly sequiturs carelessness. It was only a matter of time before they left a clue behind.”
“A c-clue?” I stammer. “What clue?”
“An eyewitness.” His chest swells with pride. “We’ve known all along there were three of them, and better yet, we had a rough description for each.”
“Muscular builds,” Bosmian inserts. “Ranging from five-feet-eleven to six-foot-three.”
I gulp.
“Dark hair,” Carter adds. “Kept short. But this time…” He leans a little closer, grinning conspiratorially.
“They split up and ran in three different directions. I suppose they probably thought it was smart, scattering resources and thinning police presence, but all they really managed was to give us better insight into how each of them thinks. I was running through CCTV footage earlier today, following one of em along his escape route. He ducked into a games arcade; probably thought the noise and lights would make it easier to get lost in. Instead, he hand-delivered a 360-degree, high-definition view of his build.”
“D-did you get a clear image of his face?”
Less braggy now, Carter’s smile falls. “No. But on his way through, he ran into an arcade employee. She’s young, fifteen or so, and was shaky during her interview this afternoon. But she said they spoke—”
“Her and the thief?” I gasp. Oh God. Oh no.
“Yep. I plopped a stack of suspect photos in front of her and asked if the man she spoke to was any of the men in the pictures.” He brings his glass up, smiling and sipping the bubbling liquid. “We got a hit. Xander Mathews.”
“Xander Mathews?” Do I know that name? Should I? “He’s known to the police?”
Carter scoffs. “Absolutely. He’s been in and out of lockup a dozen times in the last decade. Always petty stuff, armed robbery, intimidation, public lewdness.” He meets Bosmian’s eyes. “You remember that dumb underground boxing circuit we shut down the summer before last?”
Bosmian nods.
“Mathews was one of the guys who thought that crap up.”
“Oh my gosh! You’re Dean Warner, aren’t you?”
I twist and find a woman in a shimmering black gown beaming up at my—
At Dean.
At his glittering, brown-eyed stare and pearly white smile.
“Hi.” He transfers a fresh champagne flute to his left hand and offers the right. “Have we met?”
“No.” She grabs on and inches closer, closer, so her toes almost tickle his.
“But I’m a huge Stacked Deck fan, and I saw you in the finals last year.
” She looks him up and down, practically already in love.
“I could’ve sworn I saw your name on this year’s draw, but…
” Her smiling eyes turn to a frown. “Wow. I guess not.”
“Please excuse me.” I unravel my arm from Carter’s grip and move the fifteen feet to where Dean babies his arm against his chest.