“We just need to fit you with an earpiece and a mic.”
At that moment, Dubrosky poked her head out of the van. “Hey, partner. We’ll be your eyes and ears from here on out.” She angled her head in Gillian’s general direction. “Try not to worry, she’s been briefed. It was my idea to pick up a shorter costume so her dress wouldn’t stick out from under your cloak. At least now she doesn’t look like a character from a children’s movie.”
“Right. It makes sense.” Garrett said through gritted teeth. He took a tentative step closer to Gillian and her lavender scent perfumed the crisp night air. She wore her hair up in the cap with tendrils falling around a glittery, black mask. He’d give anything to know what she was thinking right now.
“You need to place this in your bra,” he said and handed Gillian the mic. Their fingers touched and a shock of electricity zinged up his arm. His chest filled with longing and deep regret. “The transmitter can pick up all of our conversations.”
Hastings cleared his throat, breaking some of the tension. “On that note, I think I’ll leave you to it. See you on the other side.” He got back into the van presumably to give Gillian some privacy.
“I’ll use magick to conceal the mics.” She waved her hands and closed her eyes.
“Stars and moons, sand and sea.
Mother Earth let her cover thee.
This is my will, so mote it be.”
She opened her eyes and tilted her head to the side. Gillian bent forward, and he noticed a silver heart necklace now hanging from her slender neck. Their eyes met. “This will mask my scent and my heartbeat.”
“Frankly, that slipped my mind. Good thinking, Gillian.”
She ignored his praise and lifted the front panel of her dress. “I just need a minute.” Garrett caught a glimpse of a silver bra, and the outline of her pert, rosy nipples. Blood, fast and hot, rushed straight to his groin. If she was trying to torture him, she was doing one hell of a job.
“All set,” she announced after she adjusted herself. They did another soundcheck.
“Remember, Alex will be in a waiter uniform working with the catering staff, and Smith will be part of the security detail.”
“I’ll be the one driving the kick-ass delivery truck after you rescue Brooke,” Teague piped up into the mic.
“There will be other agents throughout the party, undercover as bartenders and waitstaff. They’ll be keeping an eye on you should you run into any trouble. Any questions?” Garrett asked, ready to get back on the road.
She shook her head and let out a deep breath, looking tense. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m parked close by, but I imagine the gravel will be treacherous in heels. Let me help you.” He reached for her hand, but she waved him off.
“I don’t need your help.” She hobbled along and managed not to twist an ankle.
She dropped the crystal in her hands. When she bent down to pick it up, Garrett caught the glint of the blade she planned to use on Brooke, strapped in a thigh holster. His mouth went dry. After they reached his car, he opened the door to let her duck into the back seat. She curled up in a ball and covered herself with his long, black cloak.
“Are you okay under there? Can you breathe?”
“I’m fine,” she muttered in a muffled voice. “Let’s get this over with.” He got the distinct impression she wasn’t only talking about getting to Brooke, more like she couldn’t wait to get away from him. He couldn’t blame her, not after the way he treated her.
“Fair enough.” He got into the car, turned on the GPS, and floored the gas. He peeled out of the clearing in the direction of the house. With one hand on the wheel, he reached for the mask on his passenger seat and covered his eyes.Showtime.
Once they reached the enormous wrought iron gate, he gasped. “You were right all along about the dragon shield. The satellite images from the drone didn’t pick it up. We’re nearing the security box. Remember to stay ducked down.” He pulled up and lowered his window. “The name’s Sebastian Beam.”
“Wait a moment, please,” said a voice on the other end. After a series of buzzing noises, the gate lifted. “You may enter, Mr. Beam.” He drove down a long, stone driveway to an enormous courtyard flush with grand, sweeping lawns.
When the sprawling, multi-level French country estate appeared, Gillian’s head popped up, visible in the rearview mirror. Greeted by Rockefeller era stone walls, ivy-clad pillars, and a slate roof, he now knew where all the blood money had gone. Incandescent lights lit up the house and made quite the visual against the backdrop of an inky sky. “Business must be good,” Garrett muttered in disgust.
“Holy shit, can you sayWolf of Wall Street?This is place is huge. It’s where I had the vision of Brooke. She’s here. I can feel it in my bones. Does this place belong to Kurt Lawrence?” Gillian asked in a sickened voice.
“No. It took some digging, but it’s linked to a credit card number used by Lawrence. It’s an entity owned investment property, and wouldn’t you know, the entity’s controlling principal is Malcom Von Scrivner. I see the valets. Stay down.”
Garrett pulled the Lotus behind a row of Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, and stretch limos. He hopped out of the car and stretched, his gaze darting to the back seat. He caught a glimpse of Gillian’s leg and tugged at the edge of the cloak, making sure every part of her stayed covered. When the valet approached, he turned and slipped a twenty in his hand. “Take good care of her.”
He managed to walk about five steps when a vampire, dressed in all black with a wire dangling from his ear and a gleaming, silver stake holstered to his hip, stopped him. The guard blocked his path and held up his hand. “Arms straight out and legs apart, sir.”
