Off-duty, perhaps, but law enforcement nonetheless.
Still keeping his casual façade in place like body armor, Cole went back into the smaller gallery. There were two men and a woman oohing and ahhing over the Egyptian mask, clearly mesmerized by it. The woman had on a long blue dress appropriate for an evening occasion; Cole didn’t know enough about women’s fashion to decide if it was off-the-rack or bespoke, but the men wore rented tuxes. She fussed with her dress so often it was almost like an unconscious thing—tugging at the material, adjusting the straps. Her red hair tumbled over her shoulders, and much like she kept messing with her dress, she kept brushing it back or tucking it behind her ear as if she weren’t used to having it down.
Cole’s heart beat faster. Female cops wore their hair up, usually in tight buns like women in the military, to avoid giving someone something to grab on to during a physical altercation. And she likely wasn’t used to wearing the dress, so she kept adjusting it and tugging at it.
Shit. There were cops all over this place.
Cops, and at least half a dozen art thieves Cole could personally identify.
Fuck the plan. Fuck the Puffin. Time to fake an emergency, grab Mother, and get the hell out of here.
He turned around and headed out, but hesitated. Chewing his lip, he glanced back.
WillI’m-a-semi-sentient-glory-hole-for-other-men’s-boyfriendsYarmouth was two cases over from the Puffin now. Inching closer. Ever closer.
He was about to make his move. Stupidly, of course, because who the fuck made a move like that without layers of diversions in place, but there he was. And if he did, then the cops by the Egyptian mask would be all over him, and there’d be chaos and violence andmorecops. Cole’s plan had been to steal the Puffin and be long gone before anyone noticed it was gone. Still being here when the alarm sounded that literally anyone had stolen—or, well, since it was Will,triedto steal the Puffin? Nooo. Not happening.
He closed his eyes and sighed.
As thrilled as he would be with Will going to prison and not being his problem anymore, the manwashis problem tonight. And like it or not—oh, he so did not—Cole needed to keep Will from getting his stupid ass arrested.
For a hot second, he debated killing him.
Just a second, though. Cole wasn’t a murderer. He’d never killed anyone and had no intention of starting now. The weapons in his pockets and the ampule of deadly poison built into the face of his “Rolex” were for defensive purposes only.
It was just super entertaining to imagine, if only for a moment, leaving Will floating in Alders’s enormous pool like a modern day Gatsby.
With thoughts of well-deserved murder to relax and center him, Cole squared his shoulders and made his way toward Will.
CHAPTER 2
“Oh my God,” Reed’s voice came through Will’s earpiece. “There arehitmenhere!”
Will scoffed as he switched his glass of champagne to his other hand. “No there aren’t.”
“Yes, thereare.”
He resisted the urge to rub his brow. It was hard enough navigating a party like this without an escort; he didn’t need his backup to go off into the weeds. “Reed. Focus.”
“Iamfocusing. Focusing on the hitmen chatting it up in the corner by the melting clocks.”
Reluctantly, Will glanced over to the corner. He bit back a laugh. “That’s not a hitman, just another billionaire and his plus-one.” The blonde with the wire-rimmed glasses was saying something to the dark-haired man next to him that made him roll his eyes. “Or billionaire-adjacent, I guess. His sister runs some big company, right?”
“Yeah, but rumor has it that the reasonhedidn’t go into the family business was because he got trained as his family’s personal assassin to help them rise in the ranks and?—”
“Jesus Christ, Reed.”
“And the other guy isanotherhitman who was sent to kill him, only they fell in love all Mr. and Mr. Smith style, and?—”
“Reed.”
“And now they live in a fortress on some island in Europe most of the time because so many people are after them, and?—”
“I am not paying you for gossip, bubba,” Will snapped. “I’m paying you to watch my back and help me win this fuckin’ game, so get your head on straight or fuck off.” There was a long silence, and Will immediately felt guilty for snapping, but he held firm.
“Copy that,” Reed said, voice flat and unaffected, no hint of the friendly relationship that was usual between the two of them. Which, fine. If that was what it took to get his backup to focus, Will would throw their friendship onto the fire. He’d pull it out again later. “You’re clear for a closer look.”
“Good.” He took a cautious sip of the champagne, biting back the grimace that wanted to emerge at the taste. Shit, why did no one ever serve tequila at these things? Even bourbon would do, but no, it had to be fucking champagne every time.
