Chapter Eleven
Every nerve in Fallon’s body fired at once. She spun.
Isaac.
His mask was pushed up onto his forehead. Dark jacket, open collar, his sleeves pushed to his forearms. A glass of something amber in his other hand.
His fingers were still on her elbow. Not gripping. Just there, warm and steady through the silk of her sleeve, like he had every right to be touching her.
“Isaac.” His name came out before she could decide whether to say it.
“Fallon.”
She pulled her elbow free. He let her.
Her pulse was hammering but she kept her voice even. “What are you doing here?”
“Same thing everyone else is doing. Enjoying the party.”
“You’re working.”
“I’m not.”
“Your team?—”
“Isn’t here. No team, no client. Just me and a twelve-hundred-dollar ticket.”
She scanned the crowd behind him while she processed that. No earpieces on nearby guests. No one watching them with professional interest. No subtle perimeter, no staged positioning, nothing that read as an operation. Just partygoers in masks, drinking and laughing and watching the elaborate circus go on around them.
She and Cassandra had actively avoided locations where Zodiac Tactical might be present all week. But this wasn’t Zodiac. This was Isaac. Alone, on his own time, at an event he had no professional reason to attend.
She had a stolen USB drive pressed against her hip and the one man in the world who could connect her to criminal activity was standing two feet away with a bourbon in his hand.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said. “I’ve worked three different high-end events this past week. You weren’t at any of them.”
“That was deliberate.”
Something shifted in his expression. A flicker of recalculation, quick and controlled. She’d said too much. A pickpocket might avoid a crowded room or a venue with heavy security. A pickpocket didn’t track a specific firm’s schedule and build her calendar around their absence.
“Deliberate,” he repeated. “You knew where I’d be.”
She shot him a half-smile, trying to defuse. “I knew where Zodiac would be. There’s a difference.”
“How?”
“A girl has to have some secrets.”
“That’s not a secret. That’s surveillance.” His eyes narrowed a fraction. “How are you tracking my firm’s schedule?”
“I’m not tracking anything. I just pay attention to which events have private security and which ones don’t. It’s not hard to spot if you know what to look for.”
He studied her for a long beat. She held his gaze and kept her breathing even. The lie was thin, but it was plausible enough to stand if he didn’t push it.
He let it go. For now. “But here we both are.”
He was alone. He’d come alone, on his own time and dime, to an event he had no professional reason to attend.
“You crashed a masquerade to find me,” she said.
