It also made security far more challenging. More shadows to contend with among the thick crowds. Fortunately, the formally attired waitstaff had just moved into their assigned places along the side walls, indicating the time for the plated dinner was near.
Keeping to his promised schedule like the pro he was, Peter Trannell strode to the podium on the raised stage at the front of the hall with the confidence of a man riding the peak of yet another successful event. His slicked-back dark hair and sharp features were a little too much for Gia’s taste, but as a successful businessman and a recent divorcé he’d had more than his fair share of women dancing attendance on him throughout the night. He cleared his throat and leaned toward the microphone, his voice as well-practiced as his movements. “Ladies and gentlemen. My name is Peter Trannell. As the coordinator for this fine event, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for your attendance this evening. I know Governor Lansing, his wife and children are also equally appreciative for you joining us tonight and for your generous support toward his campaign.”
He paused long enough to let the polite swell of applause accent his words and scanned the room with a charming smile. “If each of you will take your seats, our waitstaff will begin our service and our first speaker for the night can take the stage.”
Smooth and efficient, the attendees did as instructed and the waiters moved in.
Gia followed the governor to his table and clocked Beckett trailing the governor’s wife from across the room. Beside her was South Carolina’s Governor, Ron Tandy. The two of them chatted as they meandered toward the head table with a comfortable familiarity that went far beyond political affiliations. Beckett on the other hand was nowhere near as relaxed. Understandable since Governor Tandy’s point man was Judd.
Judd had been an absolute thorn in everyone’s side and a general pain in the ass since go-time on Friday. If she hadn’t been so tight on staff already and painfully aware that what she’d blurted Thursday night had to have been the source of his irritation, she’d have taken advantage of the full authority Trannell had granted her as head of security, sacked him straight off and backfilled with someone local. Though why he was so pissed was beyond her. It wasn’t like she’d ever led him on. Quite the contrary. She’d been brutally honest with him about how she felt—or rather, how she didn’t feel—from the first time he’d asked her out in high school.
Satisfied Governor Lansing was comfortably situated at his table, Gia eased a polite distance away, never taking her eyes off her target.
Judd’s dry voice cut through the headset. “Boss lady’s sure lost the stick up her ass, Beckett. Did you let her tie you up and whip your ass into submission over downtime?”
Beckett’s head whipped Judd’s direction for all of a beat before he locked his fury down and shifted his attention back to the governor’s wife. His tone, however, was nowhere near controlled. “Got no problem rippin’ your tongue out of your mouth and shovin’ it up your ass, Rainier. You want that to happen, keep talkin’ smack about my woman.”
Judd shrugged and kept trailing Governor Tandy like they were talking sports instead of throwing down gauntlets. “Just sayin’ what everyone else is thinking. All the rest of us like to be the one in control and she’s turned us down cold, so we figure that’s gotta be the missing link.”
Beckett met Gia’s stare across the room, cold fury burning in his startling blue eyes.
“You like someone to hand control over with a pretty pink bow and bat their lashes,” Gia said before Beckett could answer him. “Beckett doesn’t ask for it. He takes it and makes me come so hard I scream every time. There’s your missing link.”
Silence filled the headset for all of a heartbeat, followed by a muted snicker and more than one man clearing their throat.
Beckett’s lips twitched right before he gave Gia his back and pulled a chair out for the governor’s wife.
Judd, on the other hand, was livid, his whole face a mottled red.
Gia didn’t care. She’d tried to ignore his petulant bullshit all weekend, but that little stunt was beyond the line. “Now, if you’re done trying to convince everyone your dick’s bigger than everyone else’s, keep your focus on your job and the headset clear for what matters.”
No one said a word. Not even Judd. But a few of the men lined up along the far wall dipped their head for a split second to get their expressions back under control.
The rest of the gala’s attendees made their way to their assigned tables. A few tables away from the governor, Jace pulled a chair out for Vivienne. The only other time she’d seen him in a tux had been at Darya’s wedding, but he wore one well. Even dressed to blend in he still looked like a predator among sheep, his charisma and dangerous air the same as all the rest of the brothers. Vivienne looked amazing as always, her evergreen gown with its low back clinging to every perfect curve and her curly brown hair twisted up in a neat updo.
Just fifteen feet away, Axel guided Sylvie and Ninette toward them. Unlike Jace’s understated ponytail, Axel had snubbed conformity entirely, leaving his wild russet hair loose and pairing his tuxedo jacket with his clan’s navy blue and green kilt. Given the smug grin on his face and the proud lift of his chin, he knew damned well the vast majority of the women in attendance were not only intrigued by his getup, but him as well.
Ninette was gorgeous. Pure elegance in a soft silver gown that made her matching hair that much more glorious. And Sylvie? Well, Vivienne hadn’t called it wrong about the man hunt. Axel’s mother might be well into her sixties, but she had a body to rival women half her age and the black sheath dress she’d picked out accented every inch of it.
They settled in beside Jace and Vivienne. Sylvie twisted in her chair, scanned the security personnel along each wall and locked stares with Gia, offering a proud smile and one of those waves a parent gave their kiddo from the front row at the school play.
Gia’s cheeks warmed and the space behind her breastbone tightened as though a giant fist had squeezed around her heart. She could’ve sworn she heard Beckett’s chuckle through the headset. Or maybe it was someone else’s.
She didn’t care. For all the experiences in her life, that goofy wave was the first like it she’d ever received and there was no way in hell she’d dishonor it with embarrassment.
From there, everything was quiet. No suspicious activity. Just the muted clicks of knives and forks on fine china as the attendees ate and hushed side conversations as the first speaker droned longer than they were supposed to.
Eventually, it was Governor Tandy’s turn at the podium. Serving the tail end of his final term in office, he’d made the rounds in recent months at events just like this one supporting new candidates for his party and those like Governor Lansing looking for a second term.
The transition of speakers went off without a hitch. Tandy took the podium and Judd stood off to one side of the stage, well out of the spotlight, while Gia and Governor Lansing slipped from the main ballroom to the backstage area where he could appear like a rock star from the center.
For the next fifteen minutes, the governor from South Carolina extolled Lansing’s virtues, paying special attention to his tough stance on narcotics and his unflappable support of law enforcement over the past four years. When he rounded out his speech, the crowd applauded, slowly rising to their feet in a haphazard wave.
The curtains opened.
Governor Lansing stepped out into the spotlight and offered his hand to his counterpart while Gia and her support team moved into place.
Everyone was on their feet, clapping. Some wore genuine smiles while others were pasted in place. Some didn’t even bother.
Everything exactly as it should be. Not a thing out of place.
Governor Tandy strolled toward the stairs down from the stage, all smiles and waves to those in the crowd. Governor Lansing watched him, a benevolent host patiently waiting for his
turn in the limelight.
Except Judd wasn’t following his man. At least not as close as he should be. His gaze wasn’t trained on his target either, but rather out at someone in the crowd.
Gia followed his line of sight.
One man standing motionless. No smile. Not even boredom. More of a concentrated stare.
The two women in front of him took their seats—and all hell broke loose.
It couldn’t have been more than three seconds, but for Gia they passed in a blur.
Seeing the gun.
Surging toward the governor.
The flash from the gun in her peripheral and the report behind it.
Knowing even as the vibration rippled through the air, she was too far away to do any good.
The next thing she knew, Judd was covering the governor.
Not her. But Judd.
In the audience, Beckett and two of his men had the shooter on the ground and well in hand.
Her whole body shaking with the flood of adrenaline, she shoved Judd off the governor and hauled Lansing to his feet, the rapid-fire flashes from cameras and cellphones in the audience like shocks against her skin. “Let’s go.”
Before she could put herself between Lansing and the audience, Judd took over and crowded close, teaming with one of her men to get the governor backstage.
Gia followed, but on much slower footsteps, the reality of the last few seconds sinking poisonous, humiliating claws deep. She’d been too slow. Had missed the danger and left her man unprotected. Had been the most ineffectual person on the entire team at a time when she’d been most needed.
She glanced back at the crowd just as they moved out of sight and spied Jace and Axel carting Viv, Ninette and Sylvie away from the panic.
They’d come to see her shine. Flown all this way to show their support.
And she’d failed.
Miserably.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Life was seriously bad when even ice cream didn’t appeal as a viable tool to soften a girl’s ugly reality. Tucked into the crook of Beckett’s arm, Gia dug her spoon into the pint of Ben & Jerry’s Vivienne had dropped off thirty minutes ago and forced a bite into her mouth.
Urban Bourbon.
One of her favorites.
But tonight, it tasted awful.
She stuck the spoon back in the still firm ice cream, reached across Beckett’s wide torso and slid the pint onto the room service cart by his side of the bed.
His big hand splayed between her shoulder blades over the top of her cotton tee pajama top then coasted up to the back of her neck, guiding her head so her cheek rested against his chest. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you leave Urban Bourbon unfinished.”
“Don’t think you’ve ever seen me with my head stuck up my ass like you did tonight either, but there’s a first time for everything.”
He didn’t argue. Not this time. The other fifty or so times she’d verbally lashed herself, he’d tried to placate her with everything from You’re the only one who thinks that to No one can do this job perfectly.
On the bright side, Lansing was on a chartered jet headed to Orlando and all the other protected guests had headed back to wherever they were from, so she was finally in a place where she could privately lick her wounds. The fact that it was nearing two in the morning only added to her maudlin mood.
Beckett’s heartbeat drummed a peaceful rhythm against her ear and the steady rise and fall of his chest on each breath lured her own to follow. At least she had him. Had his family—every one of whom had either come by in person the second she and Beckett had come back from the airport, or called to support her in their own unique way. One thing she wouldn’t have in large supply for a very long time was business. Not until this disaster blew over.
She huffed and sat upright, snagging her phone off the bed beside her hip as she went. The worst of the four news stories was still conveniently pulled up on her browser, the horrid snapshot of her standing there, worthless while Judd covered the governor, taking up most of the screen. “He saw it before I did. Moved faster. I should have caught it.”
Beckett snatched her phone out of her hand and tossed it next to the ice cream. Unlike her, he’d yet to do more to get ready for bed than ditch his Timberlands, leaving him barefoot in jeans and an insanely soft black T-shirt that molded every muscle. “Cut the shit, Gia. It happens.”
“Right. Like you wouldn’t be saying the exact same thing if the roles were reversed.” The fury she’d barely kept in check all night bubbled up, ready for a fight. “Oh, wait. It wouldn’t happen to you. Hell, you were three times the distance to the shooter that I was to my primary and you still got there quicker than I got to Lansing.”
Beckett didn’t bite. Just ran his thumb along the side of the television remote near his hip and studied her like he was trying to figure something out. “What if there’s a reason Judd was on Lansing faster than you?”
Of all the counterarguments he could have come back with, that was the last one she’d expected. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Another slide of his thumb, this one paired with caution in both his expression and his tone. “I mean, Judd’s good, but he’s not telepathic. No one else clued into the shooter. What if Judd knew the guy was gonna be there?”
“Are you kidding me? Like he set something up?”
“You said once that things between you and him have always been competitive. He undercut you at your last deal. He questioned every move you made this weekend.”
“He’s just jealous I got the lead detail.”
A sharpness she’d learned to not only appreciate, but to rely on intensified his steady gaze. “Maybe he was pissed enough he wanted to do something about it.”
Surely not.
Yeah, she and Judd had been trying to beat each other past the finish line for as long as she could remember, but what Beckett was proposing defied logic. “What kind of idiot would risk another man’s life just to make himself look better than someone else?”
“Gorgeous, you’ve worked in this business almost as long as I have. How many times did the bad guys actually have reasonable motives? Judd wanted the lead spot on this gig and you got it instead of him. That’s got to sting for a man like him. And let’s face it—that crash and burn at dinner with your parents trying to set you two up wasn’t the first one. How many were there before that?”
For the first time since the pre-event this afternoon, the brief and all too distracted conversation they’d had in the elevator came back to her. “Is that what your hunch was?”
Beckett shrugged as though he was trying to play it off, but something about the action was off. Like there was more emotion locked inside his big body, but he was hell-bent on containing it. “My gut’s good about shit like this.”
A statement, but one chock-full of regret. She cocked her head, pushed past the self-pity she’d nursed all night and really studied him. She’d thought his quiet and the restrained restlessness was from having to deal with her piss-poor mood, but now that she looked his features were strained. Almost unforgiving. “Don’t tell me you think you could have stopped this.”
“I saw the same thing you did, G. Judd wasn’t close enough to his man. Wasn’t even watching him.” The muscle at the back of his jaw ticked as though the words still to come had to fight their way free. “I could have stopped him.”
“And then the shooter could’ve got off another round. You did the right thing. I was the one who was slow.”
“You were the one who didn’t have a chance and that’s what makes me wonder if Judd’s not behind all of this. It’s too convenient.”
It wouldn’t compute. No matter how many times she tried to fit the concept together in her head the pieces pushed apart like magnets repelling against each other.
On the nightstand, Beckett’s
phone lit up and vibrated against the gleaming mahogany surface. He glanced away only long enough to grab it and check the screen, then met her eyes. “Just think about it.” He swiped the screen and sat upright, planting his feet on the floor. “You find anything?”
Knox.
Beckett never used that tone with anyone but his brothers, and Knox was the brotherhood’s resident bloodhound. Given how fast Beckett had moved to take the call, she’d bet good money the trail Knox was on tonight was Judd’s.
Slowly, Beckett straightened from his relaxed stance, a predator waking from its slumber. The air around him snapped with unspent, furious energy. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Gia scrambled to his side of the bed for a look at his face. For some clue as to what was going on.
“When?” Beckett asked, glaring at the floor.
One word that amplified every subtle background noise to the point it grated against her ears. The low drone of an old Bourne movie she’d seen a thousand times. The chilled air whirring from the vents overhead. The muted beep, beep, beep of a truck backing up somewhere out on the street. Even the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand seemed harsh. A spotlight minus an incriminating voice demanding an alibi.
A knock sounded on the door, three quick but heavy raps loaded with either insistence or impatience.
Gia got all of two steps toward the living room portion of their suite before Beckett hauled her back to the bed with a fistful of T-shirt and aimed a pointed glance at her cute red sleep shorts. “Start digging,” he said to Knox without breaking stride toward the door. “And get Jace on point. If this shit’s true, we’ll need him ready to lawyer up.” He checked the peephole and muttered something she couldn’t quite make out. “Fuck, I gotta go. Gia’s dad’s here with some jackass I don’t know.”
Stand & Deliver Page 25
