“I take it you know how, too?”
He nods. “My mother taught me.”
“Then shall we?” I ask, even though I’m trembling with nerves and all I want to do is pry information about his mother from him. I hate being the center of attention, and we surely will be if we’re the only ones dancing a waltz in the middle of a crowded room.
Owen looks at me as though he isn’t quite sure if I’m serious, so I tug him back to the atrium and onto the dance floor. He doesn’t fight me.
When we reach the center, he pulls me close and places his hand on my lower back. His calloused palm scrapes against my exposed skin, and I close my eyes for a moment to compose myself. When I open them, he takes my hand in his other and expertly leads me into the steps.
I haven’t danced a waltz in a decade, but Owen makes it feel effortless. I’m soon lost to our moving bodies perfectly in sync with one another.
“Once again, you surprise me,” Owen whispers as we turn together.
“I think I may be the one who’s surprised this time,” I whisper back.
Owen pulls me closer as we move faster with the music filling the space around us.
I don’t register the crowd gathered around, watching, but when Owen spins me toward the bar, one person catches my eye among the myriad of faces.
Owen grabs my waist again, gracefully, as my heart rate speeds up.
I know that face. I’ve stared at it so many times in a CIA file recently that I’ve almost memorized the slope of his nose and the lines around his wide-set eyes.
It’s the assassin from the Post-it beside Owen’s computer.
Peyton Radd.
Chapter 23
When the music stops and the crowd cheers, I don’t hear them. I don’t even feel Owen’s hand as he leads me away.
My eyes scan the crowd for Peyton. Even though I knew there would likely be assassins here tonight, for some reason, I didn’t expect him.
“Is something wrong?” Owen leans over and whispers so no one can hear us.
I shake my head. “I just need to use the restroom. Will you excuse me?”
Owen looks disappointed at my sudden change in mood, but I need to get away. I need to find Peyton. I need to find out who he’s working for.
Owen nods and releases my hand, watching me walk away. I don’t want to. I want to stay and make sure he’s okay. Make sure he knows I’m on his side. But this is the only way I know how to do that, even if he isn’t aware.
I practically sprint from the crowd now closing in around Owen. I don’t turn to see his face. I focus on what I’m supposed to be doing: finding the assassins and finding out who is pulling their leashes.
“Gray,” I whisper into my comm, exiting the atrium and scanning the crowd by the entrance. “Peyton Radd is here. I need to know where he went.”
“Last location?”
“Exiting the atrium toward the back exit.”
“On it.”
As Gray searches the cameras, I wind my way around the outside of the crowd, searching for Peyton’s dirty blond hair among the commotion.
“Got him,” Gray’s voice comes through the comm. “He’s headed down to the aquarium.”
The aquarium is on the floor below the atrium, displaying creatures from all over the world in beautifully designed tanks. From tropical waters to the deep sea, there are a myriad of exhibits. The problem with the aquarium, though, is that it’s dark, and there are many places to hide.
“Shit,” I mumble into the comm.
