Chapter Three
To suggest that five security guards was overkill for the Bakshai reception would be an understatement.
First off, Ashraf Bakshai came with his own people.
Two of them.
One sat in the passenger seat of the SUV Hawk drove, the other in the car that followed.
Both men filled out their suits with an extra fifty pounds of pure muscle. Not that they needed to depend only on brawn to protect the man that paid them—they were both armed.
Hawk met the men with a handshake, but the conversation was nearly zero as they spoke Arabic and either didn’t know or weren’t interested in speaking English.
Nasser Bakshai, the son, stood at five ten tops, maybe a hundred and seventy pounds. He couldn’t be more than thirty, but the man already had a wife and three children.
Hawk, Teach, and Charlie showed up at the Bakshai home an hour before having to drive Nasser to the airport to pick up his father.
When Hawk asked Nasser for details on any possible threats or hostility at the reception, he was told that the reception was to host businessmen he and his father worked with. But that Ashraf Bakshai was accustomed to layers of security wherever he went, hence the need to hire the five of them.
“My father is a very rich man. Wealth like his puts a target on his back.”
But not the son? Hawk mused.
The reception was being held in an upscale restaurant on the outskirts of Beverly Hills.
Hawk jumped out of the dark SUV, along with the two unexpected bodyguards, while Teach and Charlie backed the cars into spaces reserved at the front of the establishment.
One of Ashraf’s men peeled off at the door as Hawk flanked his assignment.
Hawk stayed a couple of paces back as attendees of the reception approached his client.
The radio in his ear kept Hawk in contact with his team.
“What’s with the extra heat?”
The question was from Stevie. The only woman on this five-man team. She posed as one of the servers and circulated with a tray filled with wine. She eavesdropped on conversations and kept an eye on the kitchen staff.
“Dad brought his own security,” Hawk announced into the earpiece that also served as a microphone to his team.
“Friendly,” Charlie said sarcastically.
“You sure we’re not expecting any trouble?” Teach asked.
Hawk looked over the heads of people surrounding the Bakshais and saw Teach standing at the far end of the room by an emergency exit.
“The Brentwood home only had an alarm system and two dogs.”
So ... nearly no security, mused Hawk. “If there’s trouble, it will be aimed at the father.”
The earpiece dangling out of Hawk’s ear was somewhat of a magnet to those that turned their attention toward him. Some would open their mouths as if they wanted to introduce themselves, then they’d see the radio equipment and turn away.
“Does anyone else notice the distinct lack of women in this group?” Stevie asked.
Her question had Hawk skimming the crowd.
“Maybe it’s a bachelor party?” Teach piped in.
Someone on the team laughed.
There were only two female guests in the room. The rest were staff members.
“From the looks coming my way, I wouldn’t be surprised.
” Stevie was retired law enforcement. Retired by choice, not by age.
In her midthirties, she decided, like many of Ed’s employees, that working for a government paycheck simply wasn’t worth the risk.
Too many cuts, lack of support from the department, and the increasing discourse between the public and the force was a combination she didn’t want to deal with for the next thirty years.
Hawk agreed.
Stevie was sharp. Her scores at the range were impressive, and she was crazy smart when it came to cybersecurity.
And she was a mother.
Hawk would bet money that it was her daughter that pushed Stevie to quit the department. Or maybe it was the soon-to-be ex-husband that forced that hand.
It didn’t matter. Stevie was an asset, and Hawk enjoyed working with her.
Since Hawk was the closest in proximity to their clients, he kept silent as the team continued to banter.
From what he could see, the Bakshais knew a lot of rich and influential people. Big names in the American oil industry, politicians, businessmen that had people like Bezos and Musk on speed dial.
Not that Hawk knew any of these men by sight ... or even name. But the rest of his team kept name-dropping like they were standing next to the red carpet on Oscar night.
Alcohol was flowing, but their hosts weren’t partaking.
Which Hawk appreciated.
Playing bodyguard to drunks was not ideal.
Thirty minutes into the time at the reception, Charlie made an announcement.
“We have someone stirring up attention at the entrance.”
“What kind of—” Hawk’s words dropped off when he saw the room’s distraction.
A woman who was most definitely not an employee had many heads turned.
Dark hair pulled into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, slender, and wearing an evening gown that hugged her body and stopped just past her knees.
She was taller than some of the men in the room, and while Hawk couldn’t see if she wore heels, he guessed that she did.
Her chin was high, her back stiff ... and the smile on her face seemed forced.
And she was stunning.
Attempting to look unaffected, Alex skimmed the room, searching out a familiar face.
The images of the hosts were drilled into her head from the pictures Dee had conjured off the internet. Father and son were at the far end of the reception in deep conversation with the men at their sides.
Two men, close to her deceased father’s age, appraised her with a glance before turning away without so much as a hello.
When she’d introduced herself to an attendant at the door, she was met with the question “ Is Aaron Stone with you? ”
She’d been momentarily startled.
Did the Bakshais not know of her father’s death?
“ Only in spirit, ” Alex had replied to the door attendant.
Alex hadn’t elaborated before handing her coat to the person collecting them and slipping a coat tag into her clutch.
A low murmur hummed around her.
A woman with a tray filled with wine and, strangely, highball glasses with what appeared to be whiskey stopped at her side. “Would you care for a drink?”
Alex eyed the wine. “No, thank you.”
“You sure? I can have the bartender make you whatever you’d like.”
Tempting. “I’m good.”
The waitress nodded and moved on.
Alex kept a smile on her face as she glanced around.
Floyd wasn’t in sight. Not that she ever wanted him as an anchor for any social or business situation. Still ... it would have been nice to have at least one person she recognized to help break into a conversation.
Since there wasn’t anyone in sight, she started across the room to the hosts.
Less than three yards from her intended target, she heard her name.
“Alexandrea Stone.”
She swiveled in the direction of a male voice.
The man smiling her way sat somewhere between fifty and sixty, his slightly salty hair was thin on the top.
What he lacked on his head he made up for in a trimmed mustache and beard that complemented his profile.
Like every other man in the room, he wore a cross between a business suit and something more casual.
A lack of a tie here, a sport coat with slacks there.
The man looked perfectly comfortable with the top button of his dress shirt undone and his tie left at home or shoved into the pocket of his suit jacket.
It dawned on Alex then that the sophisticated evening attire the venue’s website suggested wasn’t carried through with this crowd.
And while Alex preferred to be overdressed than under, she felt a prickle of unease begin to seep in.
She pushed the fashion statements aside and focused on the man who’d just called out her name. He stood with two other men, both holding glasses with presumed whiskey. Not one of them was familiar to Alex.
She stepped into their small circle and extended a hand. “Hello.”
The man hesitated, then shook her hand.
“You don’t remember me,” he said without censure.
Alex offered a grimace that she hoped came off as something akin to apologetic. “Guilty, I’m afraid to say.”
“Decker. Roy Decker. We met at the National Heart Association Gala that honored your late father.” Roy’s hand slipped from hers.
“There were a lot of people there that night.” And she had been doing her level best to avoid anyone who praised her late father ad nauseam. Everyone had gone out of their way to add a condolence or a story about her father. And Alex couldn’t escape that gala fast enough.
Roy introduced her to the men he was with, both of which were holding their drinks in a way that would made shaking their hands feel awkward.
In fact, as she took a step in and started to extend her right hand, both men turned their shoulders slightly and either didn’t see her attempt at the gesture or were avoiding it.
Roy looked beyond her, asking, “Is your brother with you?”
Alex stiffened. Seemed every time she went to one of these things, the question was always ... “Where is your brother?” She’d wager that Chase didn’t suffer the same question. “Chase or Max?”
“Ahh ... that’s right. You have two of them now, don’t you?”
Roy’s words grabbed the attention of the man on his right. The man whose name Alex had already forgotten.
“Apparently, I’ve always had two brothers since Chase and Max are older than me. Sadly, our father didn’t share the news of our half brother until after his death.”
Roy offered a strangled smile.
The man on his right ... Elis, that was his name. Elis muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “You can’t exactly blame Aaron for that.”
It took everything in Alex to avoid snapping at Elis’s comment.
Roy shuffled from one foot to the other.
Alex pulled back on her already fake smile and took note of Elis’s wedding ring.
Asshole.
“Neither of my brothers are here this evening.”
A long pause followed by nothing more than a nod.