“I haven’t seen him, no,” Sassy said, glancing around. The fundraiser was winding down. Members of Sassy’s family were helping to pack and move pieces that could be transferred easily to recipients’ vehicles. She’d been so busy speaking to artists and winners, she hadn’t thought to look for the gallery’s newest artisan. “I’d like to speak with him, too, before he leaves.”
“Sassy,” Sherry said, arms opened wide as she approached. “This fundraiser was a runaway success. You did fantastic.”
“Thank you, Aunt Sherry,” Sassy replied, accepting the embrace. “But I can’t take all the credit. You’ve met my executive assistant, Soledad Yazzie. Without her, this wouldn’t have been possible.”
“Ms. Yazzie,” Sherry said, shaking Soledad’s small hand vigorously. “You and my niece are the dream team.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Colton,” Soledad returned. “The dream is working here. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
Sassy exchanged a smile with her. Soledad definitely needed a raise. Without her wrangling Sassy’s march of ideas into something functional, this auction never would’ve gotten off the ground in the first place. She was the yin to Sassy’s yang and a consummate professional to boot.
“We’re proud of you,” Sassy’s father said, coming up behind her.
She turned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Dad.”
He touched an affectionate kiss to her temple. “My girls stole the show tonight,” he said, plucking at her sleeve.
“This is all Mom,” Sassy noted, spreading her arms wide. “Where is she, by the way?”
“With the winner of her design,” Richie explained. “She wanted to make sure they understood the washing instructions and protocol for ceremonial use.”
“Ah,” Sassy said knowingly.
Nick rushed toward them, urgency written on his face. “Out of the way!”
The storeroom door banged open behind her, hitting the wall with a resounding thud. Guests who had lingered shrieked as a figure darted through the opening, running pell-mell for the exit.
“Fletcher!” Soledad cried out in surprise.
He didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he barreled straight for Sassy, face flushed, sweat pearling at his temples.
“Sassy, down!” Nick called, making a dive for her.
She didn’t have time to react. Fletcher came at her like a heat-seeking missile. He shoved her roughly out of his way.
The force sent her colliding into the pedestal and the horse’s head balanced on top of it. She tumbled to the floor with it, unable to get her arms in front of her to catch her fall.
The floor didn’t cushion her. She turned her head in time to avoid driving her face into the marble tiles. The ball joint beneath her cheek absorbed the blow, the impact singing into her teeth.
People screamed. There were shouts of “Police!” “Freeze!” and “On the ground!” Boots slapped against the tiles in a cascade of running footfalls.
Someone cupped her head between their hands. “Sassy,” Nick said, kneeling over her.
“I’m okay,” she claimed.
“Are you sure?” he asked, helping her to a sitting position. Worry clouded his tawny lion irises.
She nodded. “Yeah.” Uniformed officers filed through. Their radios squawked as they parted what was left of the bystanders. Sassy gawked as two policemen led a struggling man in a dark hoodie and jeans from the storeroom. “What is going on?” she asked.
“We got him.”
Sassy whirled to find a DCPD detective with a badge hanging from his neck. She had seen him mixing with the partygoers, yet he’d lost his jacket and tie and the light in his eyes was grim. “Who?” she asked numbly.
“A drug dealer by the name of Rodrigo Kenton,” the detective explained. “He was wanted in connection with the shooting of our own Detective Hatch during an undercover operation two weeks ago.”
The same shooting Nick and his team had been responding to when he sprained his wrist? “What’s he doing here?” she wondered out loud, cradling her jaw.
“Someone left a pretty large cocaine drop for him in the crates in your storeroom,” the detective told her.
