56. Black tie events
BLACK TIE EVENTS
Sometimes you have to wear a suit; other times you are the suit. I didn’t like it. The way Cole dropped the invitation and left. He knew about Gabriella. He knew, and he did nothing.
Coward.
Summer’s grief came in waves, and right now she was staring at the dress like it was battle armor. I guess in a roundabout way it was the battle armor.
Scott fixed my tie as I ran some gel through my hair. He pulled my lips to his in a quick peck before helping Summer into the dress.
A light turquoise gown with lavender beading. There was something dangerous in the way she wore it, but it was stunning.
“Ready?” I asked, holding out my hand to help her step into her shoes.
It would be a good hour’s drive either way, and I had been listening to the police scanners for days to confirm the details.
Simmons promised to run interference if things got out of hand.
Scott confirmed that legally, since we’d been extended an invitation, we weren’t trespassing.
I didn’t care either way, seeing as we were already in deep shit with all the alphabets, including C.O.R.E.
“You can’t kill a senator without making some noise, even the FBI wouldn’t dare carry out an ops like that without some serious repercussions. It’s suicide.” Ryan urged.
“Then it’s a good thing we will look our best.” Summer replied coldly.
“Please, give us time.”
“No. I waited for twenty-five years. I will not wait a single moment longer.” Summer’s eyes shot towards him. A pointed stare pinning his failures back on him.
“At least tell me you have an exit strategy,” he pleaded.
“I have a quiet fortune it wouldn’t be a problem to simply disappear.” Karter spoke up.
Silence fell as everyone contemplated his words. Of course rich bastards got away with everything.
Karter agreed to meet us there, something about checking a patient or something beforehand, probably didn’t want another award-winning conversation with Summer. He’d graduated from stares to simple words, slowly chiseling his way into her defenses with a toothpick.
If I were her, I would have shot him on the spot, watched him bleed out and die for his crimes, but every time I brought it up, she waved it off.
“Watch him suffer for his actions and when my children are born they will not know him.”
Scott just laughed, muttering, “Better to meet a bear robbed of her cubs than a fool bent on Folly. God didn’t account for Summer’s rage.”
I shook it off, thinking how God chose the bear and every man was lucky we were made first. If I were God, I would have regrets right about now.