The thought had my stomach tensing, knowing how even supposedly peaceful meetings between crews could end in violence. But once the food came out and everyone started drinking, the tension that had initially been in the air drifted away and got replaced with a light, fun atmosphere.
Men’s laughter filled the air.
Pool balls smacked together.
Poker chips clicked as they fell into the piles on the table.
Music thumped.
It was all just very… civil. Fun. Light.
I noticed one of the serving dishes was empty before the catering staff did, so I put down my clipboard and brought the dish into the kitchen to be filled.
Figuring I had two minutes, I made my way toward the staff bathroom to freshen up.
I was making my way out, passing the side exit of the building when it happened.
The door flew open.
I whipped around.
I saw the catering outfit first: the black on black top and pants with the black apron.
Nothing to be worried about.
Until my gaze tracked up and up.
I saw the scar first.
The crooked nose.
Then the whole face I’d stared at for hours while helping the sketch artist draw it up.
Cameron.
The problem was that by the time my gaze made it to his face, he was on me, hand over my mouth, locked arm around my neck.
I had less than five seconds to get free.
And I knew how, dammit.
Until he did the one thing that would prevent me from using my moves.
He lifted up.
The second my feet left the ground, I knew I was screwed. At least for the moment.
I was pulled back outside.
The last thing I saw before the choke took me out was the prone body of Sully on the ground.
I was out cold before I could even see if he was still alive.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Perish
“Fallon just called,” Brooks said as I paced through the common area for a change of scenery after pacing the basement and then my room for a while.
