Chapter Twenty-Two
Scarlett
“Tell me again what you heard?” Beckett asks me as soon as we get in the limo and I am able to take off my way-too-high and painful heels.
“They were standing outside of the theater drinking with Carl.
The men were dressed in very formal attire with diamond cufflinks, jeweled lapel pins, and stuff like that.
I went to the bar and asked for water. Carl was watching my every move but he couldn't stop them from talking. They mentioned the word Concadia three times.”
I am hoping that I can provide Beckett with useful information so that when we go to the masquerade party he has something to stop Carl from forcing him to create the bioweapon.
“Concadia is an AI software that CSS developed. When saved on a computer or a phone, it collects all the data on the device and from the cloud associated with it. Not only does the person who uses the AI have their information hacked, but if the picture is sent to someone else—even a large company—it will collect data from their computer and devices as well. If Carl is involved with something having to do with data collection, perhaps he’s trying to figure out who to kill off with the drug. This is dangerous.”
Suddenly I feel an overwhelming sense of terror and helplessness. “Do you think you can stop him?”
“I don’t know. CSS is full of the most powerful men in the world. One doctor against a ring of corruption is a perilous fight. I need to find out if he’s working with CSS or against them. If against, I have a better chance.”
He is really just motivated by his own morality.
It is something to admire about Beckett.
He is dangerous in his own right; he draws the line at a drug that could kill the world, yet he has no qualms about healing mafia bosses and their accomplices.
He doesn't discriminate against murderers and thieves.
The fact that he could just as well save a tyrant as he would a teacher gives me pause.
I need to know exactly what we are up against. “What are the risks for you?”
“You and Rayne, first and foremost, my reputation and career, my life.” He lets out a heavy sigh.
“We’re impeding on someone’s very ambitious plan to take over the world, it sounds.
Very Saturday morning cartoon of him, but not entirely out of left field.
Carl has a God complex but hasn’t the skills or intellect to be considered a god in anyone’s estimation.
He’s a little man with a big ego. All I’m going to ask you to do is to listen.
You’ve gathered invaluable information already.
” He leans forward and kisses me on the forehead as my anxiety spikes.
“There doesn’t seem to be a way out of this,” I fret.
“You have nothing to worry about. We’ll figure something out.” He kisses my lips. “Let’s get ready for bed.” He offers me a dazzling smile, and I marvel at his beauty.
Who knew my best friend would have such a dashing brother? The gray at his temples and the fiery longing in his eyes make me want to dive into his embrace. He is dangerous and mysterious, but he is also my sanctuary. He feels like home and safety. Those are two things I've never really truly had.
“I’m nervous,” I say, not feeling scared exactly but troubled by what we are up against.
“And you should be. Just know that if this all gets to be too much, you, Mia, Rayne, and I will relocate permanently.”
“Thank you,” is all I can say, as this is a problem I never in a million years thought I’d ever have.
For the masquerade ball, we dress in matching tuxedos with matching silver masks.
Instead of paying homage to the gold cock and the red mask of the previous year where we infamously first met, we want to remain anonymous.
My wearing a tuxedo will draw attention, but Beckett makes a point that my legs would bring more.
“You have a distractingly beautiful figure,” Beckett says.
“You'd be remembered for that especially. Dressing you in something nondescript, like many of the other guests in attendance, gives us an advantage. If you walked in wearing any of the gowns you own, you would be the center of attention. Not a very good look for a spy.” He winks.
“I think you have a very biased opinion,” I tease, running my hand along his muscular arm, wishing it was around me in bed. He is the best and most attentive lover, always focusing on my needs sexually. I am quickly becoming addicted to the man I married.
“Oh I do, because I know the rest of you is as beautiful as your body, but I’ve had to endure all the lustful things others say about you because I don’t want to go to jail for murder… Just yet.”
This makes me laugh; despite all this, he always makes me feel better.
“You would not do well in jail,” I laugh, and we enter the Aman where this year’s masquerade ball is being held.
One year ago I wore a red mask and Beckett had his golden rooster, which I learned is his own personal mask for events like these. He wagered an offer he didn't allow me to refuse. I'm glad I took the chance that night despite the strange outcome.
I am lost in my thoughts when Beckett speaks up.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t feel comfortable.” He is giving me a way out.
“I want to help,” I tell him.
“You’ve already helped,” he reassures me.
“We need to win this,” I clarify.
“I’ve tasked you with spying,” he says in a low voice. “Forgetting that you have been through hell lately.”
“A lot has happened in a year,” I admit.
“For me too. A lot of things I vowed to never allow have happened, and I personally couldn’t be more grateful.
” He steps close as we stand in the lobby of the hotel, both wearing suits and simple silver masks that cover our eyes but leave our noses and lips exposed.
“One year ago I wanted to remain a cold-hearted bastard and a beauty in red warmed not only my heart but my soul. You, however, have had to manage a secret pregnancy, a forced marriage, and a kidnapping. I can imagine your thoughts are overwhelming.”
“I’m grateful too,” I interrupt, not wanting him to misinterpret my silent contemplation.
“I know you are, little dancer. But this is a new world for you. If you want, I can take you home. All you need to do is ask.”
He would give up tonight's opportunity to learn more about his nemesis to ease my concern. Despite being out of my comfort zone, nothing changes the fact that a predator is stalking him. Us. With an intention beyond evil. Beckett’s beautiful creation to save lives could be twisted to potentially destroy lives on such a large scale.
He would be instrumental in an act of genocide.
“That night led me to you, Beckett. I'll never regret that.” I offer him a smile. “I’m ready to soldier on.”
He leans down and kisses my lips. “You are remarkable.”
That is it. He takes my arm and we enter the venue. Immediately he goes to the bar and orders us the best scotch they offer. I am becoming more accustomed to the drink but I only sip on it. Scotch still goes straight to my head. I have to put on a show as does Beckett.
The night is relatively uneventful at the start. We meet his Quattro and they banter with one another as they often do. I am used to how close they are with one another, however I wonder at how none had visited the penthouse or met Rayne. Beckett keeps them at arm's distance.
An hour or so after the commencement of the event, a man with Carl's build and stature enters the hotel with two masked bodyguards. Beckett nods to him and touches the small of my back. “He’s got security,” Beckett says under his breath.
“Something is going down tonight. We aren’t flanked unless a show of force is needed. ”
I take a sip of my drink to act like I didn't notice Carl come in. He immediately goes to a group of men who all seem to be waiting for him.
“I have an idea,” I say to Beckett and then leave him questioning as I quietly approach a waiter walking in our direction. They aren't using the same catering company that had employed me, but I have been around enough catering staff to know how to get what I need.
“Excuse me. Can I borrow this tray? We have a lot of guests at our table. I’ll give it back when we’re done.” I am polite and offer a big smile as the caterer hands me the tray with a look of confusion.
“Sure, just find me later,” he says and goes back to the kitchen.
Beckett takes one look at me and knows exactly what I am planning. He gives me a smile and a nod of his head. I walk toward Carl and the men carrying the tray as if I am a catering staff member. I approach their group and listen to their conversation.
Carl has never met me. He’d seen me from afar and had heard about me. I figure he assumes I am a dancer and that I am young. He doesn't know exactly what I look like. I have my hair tucked up into a bun and am wearing a tuxedo and a silver mask.
“He’s being resistant, but we have…” They stop talking as I present the tray of caviar, crème fra?che, and crackers.
“Caviar,” I say politely.
Without even acknowledging me all of them start preparing their wafers.
The tray consists of a gold ramekin of caviar surrounded by a silver bowl of ice, with a small ramekin of crème fra?che.
There is a line of thinly sliced lemons, capers piled in a neat stack in the middle, as well as rounds of toasted baguette.
Around the tray are metal bowls of chives, minced garlic, and hardboiled eggs.
As the men put together their toasts I hand each a small silver hors d'oeuvre plate.
I then wait for the men to eat and return their metal plates to the tray.
“It doesn’t matter. We can stage someone at each hospital. Eventually, they’ll get him.”
The men return their plates to the tray and I turn and leave them without incident, my heart racing the entire time. I then approach Beckett.
“Caviar?” I stare at him, with the dirty plates littering the tray.
“You clever little ballerina,” he says and takes the tray from me as we make our way out of the ballroom and up to our suite without incident.