She tugged him gently along, biting her lip to keep her smile back. “I promise your bodyguard will forgive you.”
He glanced instinctively toward Sydney, who watched him go, and turned his head just once, slightly, to tell her to stay put. She nodded in return, understanding immediately. But as he forced his eyes away, he noticed some guy trying to talk to her, a well-dressed man in a white suit and rather garish top hat. He glimpsed Sydney giving him a careful smile and a brief answer before he and Penelope reached the other side of the floor.
She didn’t lead him toward the main tables lining the edges of the party, nor the clusters of her guests who waved at them as they passed by. Instead, she took him past the stairs and into a shadowed segment of the space, through a tunnel that had previously been blocked off. The guards stepped aside for them without a second’s hesitation.
Winter could feel the warning buzz in his mind at the realization he was leaving Sydney behind completely. He could almost hear Claire in his ear, as if this were the first time he was attending an awards show without her, could feel her upbeat pat on his back.
Be as terrified as you need to be. Just don’t you dare show it on camera.
So he kept his muscles relaxed and his smile easy, focusing his attention in curiosity on the tunnel around them.
“There are dozens of abandoned tunnels under the streets of London,” Penelope told him as they went. “Not that it means they’re unoccupied.”
Then she reached the other end of the passageway, where a guard stepped aside and opened the door for them.
A burst of noise and light hit Winter.
Inside, other tables and chairs were laid out, the air hazy with smoke and music. The clientele in here looked a little less like Penelope’sfriends—the rich young people preening around in the main party space, trying too hard—and more like a crowd that couldn’t care less about keeping up with the social scene. Some glanced up, recognizing him, and he heard the usual eager murmurs of his name. But they didn’t swarm him, and after a moment, everyone went back to their activities.
Winter saw none of Eli’s usual security in here, probably to Penelope’s relief—but even though he didn’t see the elder Morrison in person, he could feel the danger of the man.
Penelope peered up questioningly at Winter, her eyes twinkling, as if she was eager to show off all the cool corners of her party to him.
Winter saw the man right away. He stood near the edge of a craps table, applauding the current winner of a round. Unlike everyone else in the room, he wore no costume tonight—instead, his vest was proper and plain, his jacket and suit black, his eyes covered with an unembellished black mask. His hair was cut short on both sides and then combed neatly back on top.
The elusive Connor Doherty had finally made an appearance.
18
Dangerous Games
He was a thin, slight young man, with no unusual features. But just as Sauda had claimed, the little jewelry Connor wore was noticeably expensive. A thin necklace, rings resplendent on his hands, a platinum and gold limited-edition Rolex. He wasn’t showy in his attire, but definitely had a penchant for expensive accessories. And now was finally Winter’s chance to get close to him.
The hotel crest pin Sydney had slipped him felt heavy in his pocket. Winter noted it, glad to have a hidden weapon with him.
Just be yourself,Sauda had said. And so, because he knew it was what he’d say if he weren’t undercover, Winter turned his charisma up, leaned close to Penelope’s ear, and whispered, “Who’s that?”
Penelope shivered at his breath against her ear. She cast a smile over at the table. “Mr. Doherty is one of my accountants. Why do you ask?”
Identity confirmed,Winter thought. “He has good taste in jewelry,” he said honestly.
She grinned, as if pleased that he’d noticed. “Yes,” she replied, “I sometimes send him to pick out jewelry for me.”
Winter gave her a playful smile. “Can he pick mine out, too?”
Penelope laughed, her cheeks pink. “Never hurts to ask.”
He must have noticed them approach, but he didn’t look up from where he was watching the action. Instead, as they drew near to the gametable, he pushed his glasses higher on his nose and said, “Bored of your birthday already, Miss Morrison?”
“Can’t a girl visit the private rooms when she wants?” she said, casting Winter a conspiratorial smile. “We just both wanted a break from the eyes watching us.”
Being in here, away from her father’s men, seemed to boost Penelope’s confidence, as if she were indulging something secret and wholly her own. Winter could sense the straightening of her figure and the fading away of that stiff gait in her walk, the new smugness in her posture at showing this side of herself to him.
Connor offered her an amused smile and a deferential nod. His eyes went to the bejeweled pin in her hair. “Glad you’re wearing it,” he said.
She lowered her eyes, pleased, and patted it. “It’s perfect,” she gushed.
Winter watched them closely. He could feel a hint of tension between them, an electricity in the air that didn’t exist with usual business associates. But there was also something off about it that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Was Panacea certain they had the whole story about them?
