It was a difficult angle, and as she stretched her fingers past his wallet and cell phone, she had the sudden worry that maybe he’d put the cards back inside. But just as she thought his tongue couldn’t get any farther down her throat, she touched one of the key cards, then the second, and quickly clipped them between her index and middle finger.
She was about to pull them free when the music abruptly stopped, the lights went up and a brassy fanfare blasted over the speakers. Favreau broke away from the kiss and stepped back, startled, causing the cards to slip from Alex’s fingers.
Shit.
They both turned to look across the ballroom in time to see a man step onto a small portable stage and throw his arms into the air, waving at the crowd.
Leonard Latham.
Cheers and applause erupted, and he basked in the adulation as only a narcissist could, the expression on his face suggesting that every clap of the hands, every cheer, every shout of “Pappy Leo!” was well deserved.
He finally made a motion for silence and said, “Hope you’re all having a good time here in St. Cajetan.”
The crowd erupted again and Latham soaked it up. When the applause died down for a second time, he launched into a story about the creation of this wonderland, about how hard he had worked to carve out a place where those who had made something of themselves had no reason to be ashamed for who they were and how much wealth they had accumulated.
But his words were nothing more than a buzz in Alex’s brain. He could have recited the Gettysburg Address and she wouldn’t have noticed, because her gaze wasn’t on Latham at all, but on the man standing behind him, at the rear of the stage, looking out at the crowd. A tall man with curly gray hair whom Alex hadn’t seen for many years.
The man she had come here to kill.
Uncle Eric.
If it’s too much to ask, I’ll understand.
But was it too much?
As she stared at Eric Hopcroft in the flesh, and thought of the horror of her mother’s death, thought of that poem and of family and friendship and betrayal, the fury returned, this time with a colder, harder edge.
No, it wasn’t too much at all.
She wanted him dead.
Consider it done.
Then the speech was over and the crowd was roaring as the lights dimmed and the music began to thump thump thump and Alex no longer cared about key cards and codes and anything else to do with this goddamn op.
Favreau grinned and said, “So where were we?”
But she ignored him and moved into the crowd of dancers, shoving them aside as she headed across the room. Favreau called out behind her and Warlock began chattering in her ear—
“Alex, what’s wrong?”
And she ignored him, too, her gaze on Hopcroft and Latham and a small crew of muscle boys as they moved together in a group toward a side door.
“Alex,” Warlock said again. “Where are you going?”
And now Cooper chimed in. “Warlock, what’s going on?”
“I’m not sure, but she left Favreau and took off across the room, headed for the stage. Let me check another angle.”
“No,” Cooper told him. “Keep your eyes on Favreau. I think I know what she’s up to.”
Warlock answered in the affirmative and now Deuce spoke up. “Is Alex in trouble?”
“She’s fine, Deuce. Keep watching the house.”
“That’s easy for you to say. I feel pretty useless out—”
Alex jabbed a button on her cell phone, cutting the transmission, and kept moving. Hopcroft and the others were stepping into a hallway now, but Latham looked as if he wasn’t ready to leave. He said something to one of the muscle boys, and another one put a hand on his back and shoved him forward.
Alex picked up speed, trying to close the gap as they disappeared from view. She was less than three meters from the doorway, hiking up her dress as she moved, reaching for the P380 strapped to her thigh when Cooper stepped in front of her, blocking her passage.
“Alex, stop.”
She let the hem drop. “Get out of my way, Shane.”
He put his hands out. “Listen to me. I know there’s something going on that you’re not telling me about, and I know it has something to do with—”
“Move, or I swear to God I’ll hurt you.”
“No, you won’t, because that’s not who you are.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know you, all right? When I gave you those car keys yesterday, I knew where you were going, and I knew that it could jeopardize the mission, but I also knew you would calm down and come to your senses before you did anything foolish.”
“Good for you. Now move.”
“Hopcroft isn’t going anywhere. So calm down and think about what you’re doing, because going off half-cocked won’t—”
“He killed my mother, Shane. Do you get it now?” She felt tears in her eyes. “He was one of my father’s best friends and he killed her and I want to know why. I want to know why before I kill him.”
Cooper stared at her, stunned.
She stepped toward him. “Did you hear what I said?”
To her surprise, he stepped out of her way.
“Go on,” he said. “But I hope you’ve got some kind of plan, because you’re about to set off your own explosion and there’s no telling who may get caught in it.”
He was right and she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself.
She swept past him and reached for the pistol again, getting it in her hand as she moved into the hallway. She heard voices ahead and when she turned the next corner, she saw Latham and the muscle boys at the far end of the next hall, heading up a flight of stairs—
— but Hopcroft wasn’t with them.
Alex spun around to look behind her, but saw no one. The guests were all inside the ballroom and Hopcroft was nowhere to be—
“Hello, Allie Cat. Long time no see.”
She spun again and found Hopcroft standing in the middle of the hallway, smiling at her, with two of the muscle boys at his side.
“I think you and your friends need to come with us,” he said, nodding past her.
When she turned, she saw Cooper and Frederic Favreau being marched toward her down the hall, three more muscle boys holding them at gunpoint.
Looking as if he was about to piss his pants, Favreau’s eyes widened when he saw Alex. “What the hell is this, baby?”
One of the muscle boys slapped his head.
When she looked again at Hopcroft, he gestured to the pistol in her hand.
“You might want to drop that,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you get hurt before we’ve had a chance to catch up on old times.”
CHAPTER 35
“Alex?”
No answer.
“Shane?”
Again, no answer.
“For Christ’s sake — Warlock, are you there?”
“I’m here, mate. Just trying to wrap my arse around what just happened. Both Alex and Shane are off comm.”
“Why? What the hell is going on?”
“We’ve got a situation on our hands.”
“What kind of situation?”
“The kind that involves half our bloody crew being taken hostage, along with Freddy boy.”
Silence.
“Deuce, did you read me?”
“We’ve gotta get in there.”
“That’s a lovely sentiment, but you may as well commit suicide. If these CCTV feeds are any indication, the guards are all on alert. It’s only a matter of time before they check to see if there are any more of us lurking about.”