Adam slipped into place behind Antonio, brushing past without stopping. He nodded to Mercedes, who let out a playful laugh and slapped Antonio on the shoulder, jolting him enough that he wouldn’t feel Adam slide the keyset from his belt buckle.
“Got them,” Adam said when he settled along the edge of the room. Returning to the kitchen, he and Paul reunited behind the closed doors.
“That went better than I thought,” Paul said.
Adam shot Paul a glare, he should know better than to call it before it was finished—that was the first rule of the game. “It’s not over yet,” Adam chastised as he bolted away, leaving Paul and heading for the staff bathroom.
The door swung open, showing Carlos grinning where he sat on top of the closed toilet, safety goggles in his hair, blue apron over his suit, and burners already stoked.
“Melt it quickly,” Dan said. “Mercedes can’t distract him forever.”
Adam passed Carlos the key and secured the door before standing on the toilet tank to unhook the smoke detector, holding his palm over the fire sprinkler.
With a strong flame, Carlos lit up his burner and melted wax, setting the key in it and creating a mold in its shape as he fanned the flame.
The smell was pungent, not the smell of the wax, but memories. Memories of flames in his face and hot skin that felt like it was peeling. Hand still to the ceiling, Adam covered his nose with his jacket, trying not to gag.
Carlos seemed to notice, working harder to finish the mold quickly and covering the burning smell by lighting a tropical incense stick. Whether for Adam’s benefit, who knew, but more than likely it was out of kindness. An acknowledgement of past trauma and a hand of support that they wouldn’t speak of.
Just as Adam had the keys back in his hand, Dan spoke again. “We have a problem.”
“A big fucking problem,” Mercedes repeated, whispering.
Adam’s hand stilled where it had been ready to open the locked bathroom door. “What is it?”
“Blake just got here,” Dan said. “He’s twenty minutes early.”
Goddamn fucking prick. Had he never heard of making a fashionably late entrance?
Standing tall and tightening this chest, Adam jumped into action. With danger and the chance of conflict, his instincts immediately sharpened.
Adam burst through the door of the bathroom back into the kitchen, snatching a tray from a waiter who stumbled back in alarm.
“Everyone who isn’t meant to be here, get the fuck out now,” Adam said for those in his earpiece, briefly registering Paul slip out the back door. Back on the party floor, he held the tray to his face so he could move through the room quicker.
He flashed past Antonio, dropping the key into his pocket (messy, but he was out of time) and attempting to make an escape. He’d almost made it all the way through the room, back to the door, when he felt his arm tug.
“One second.” An older lady held him up, clawing at the tray of food. She spoke softly to her friends while she picked through the tray, but raised her voice and gripped Adam’s arm like a vulture in heat anytime he tried to pull away.
Shit.
There was no way he could leave her without making a scene. He needed help.
From across the room, he made eye contact with Mercedes, who gave him a strange look. Probably to say,why the fuck are you still here?Adam answered her with a tight jaw and narrowed eyes that glanced down to his arm.
With a confused frown, Mercedes followed the path of his eyes to the woman’s sharp claws gouging into Adam’s forearm.
Yes, now she had panic in her eyes, too.Exactly.
Adam watched her gaze flick to Blake. Following, Adam saw him held up at the front of the room. He widened his eyes to Mercedes, urging her to hurry the hell up if she didn’t want to be caught.
She moved quickly but quietly as she rushed to Adam’s aid, placing her hand over the old lady’s deceptively strong, vise-like grip and tugging it away from the next piece of chicken that was about to be snatched and gobbled.
“These look undercooked! Absolutely unacceptable,” Mercedes said to Adam. “Don’t eat these, Mrs. Willow, we’ll get you some fresh ones.”
“Oh, dear. Disgusting, yes, please, immediately,” Mrs. Willow said, throwing back the pieces of chicken she’d already acquired, and death glaring Adam likehe’dslaughtered and deep-fried the chicken incorrectly.
Adam’s lip tipped up in a soft smirk, earning another death glare from the greedy vulture crone.
