“In for a big fight then?” Carlos asked.
“Let’s hope not,” Paul said. “I’m going to go and get a vantage point.”
The plan was originally much more grand. Mercedes would get Blake in position. Adam would sneak into the party. At a dramatic-enough interval for his arrogant friend, Adam would announce that half the room had turned on Blake. Then finish him in front of anyone who dared to stay. So that everyone would know it was Adam Vandemilio who killed Dorian Blake.
Paul shook his head at the thought.
That wasn’t the plan anymore. They now needed to finish this fast. Paul needed to finish it fast. He’d snipe from the balcony before Blake could take a second thought. His friends would haul T.B. off and torture him until he gave up Mercedes’s location.
Because that’s what the priority was now. Finish it. Kill Dorian Blake fast. Before she ran out of time.
Paul took his drink and headed to the upstairs balcony that overlooked the ballroom. Glancing down on his friends, Dan and Carlos remained seated at the bar sipping their drinks and hiding their faces. Waiting to pounce when Paul finally made his move.
He found a darkened corner and secured his gun to the rim of the railing. The room was lit poorly, relying on twinkling fairy lights, perfect in that nobody could see a sniper waiting in the wings.
“You see that?” Dan buzzed into the radio.
“I see it,” Paul confirmed. Blake had entered the party from the main foyer and veered straight into the open crowd toward the officials from City Hall.
T.B. wasn’t with him yet. He needed to be close if they were going to grab him.
“Adam, you in?” Paul said. Silence. “Adam?”
“Yeah, I’m just…looking around,” he said.
“He wouldn’t hold her here, man, you know that,” Carlos said.
“I—yeah, I know. Doesn’t hurt to check.”
“Get down here, Blake’s just come in,” Paul said.
After a few moments, Paul saw Adam appear from one of the side doors, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket. Adam slipped into the party and moved across the room from Dan and Carlos.
“T.B. incoming,” Dan said.
Sure enough, T.B. entered from another side door, looking like he’d been through all manner of hell. He straightened his hair as he approached Blake. The two shared a curt nod, and Dorian smiled. T.B. whispered something in the boss’s ear that seemed to please them both even more.
“You got a clear shot?” Adam’s voice came through like the ragged edge of a knife. He’d taken the most evident assumption for T.B.’s interaction obviously—meaning bad news for Mercedes.
“Almost,” Paul said, angling his rifle around the City Hall officials. He had to hurry. “Just need the crowd to dissipate a bit.”
His positioning gave Paul a bird’s eye view from above. A waiter crossed Adam’s path, and he snatched a glass of champagne. Stalking to the center of the room with his head low, Adam moved as close to Blake as he could get without raising suspicion, and silently smashed the glass on the floor.
Next, Adam was back across the room, murmuring to a waiter who quickly cleared the space around Blake to clean the smashed glassware. The intention being to clear the space enough for a sniper to make a shot.
* * *
Adam tucked his hands into his pockets, watching the waiter he’d dispatched clear the space. Kill him quickly. Take T.B. Find Mercedes. That was the plan.
“I got the shot,” Paul said, leaning into his rifle.
Adam looked up to where Paul was stationed, seeing only a shadow, a tiny tip of a gun hanging out of the darkness. Attention back on the center of the room, Adam was immediately sizing up T.B. How he’d grab him and drag him away to make him talk once Blake’s brains were splattered on the sand-colored tile.
That bloodlust had consumed him. He was raging. Forgetting his stealth. Staring for too long. Far too long.
He looked up to Paul, sniper still holding steady. And when he gazed back to the center of the room, he locked eyes with a wide-eyed T.B.
“We’ve been seen.” Adam swore. “Take the fucking shot!”
