Page 30 of Accepted Precedent (Love & Politics #3)

Kristin

TWO WEEKS LATER

I can’t remember the last time I attended a gala fundraiser.

I’ve always avoided them. The obscene wealth of those attending sours my stomach.

The men and women at the gala come from generations of old money, most of whom have never worked a minimum-wage job in their life.

Evelyn and I never had anything handed to us—we even paid for our college education through academic scholarships and working full-time jobs. I clawed my way to the top.

While it was beautiful, things felt out of place.

Though, I could attribute it to being distracted by my tasks for the evening.

The ballroom was set up with round banquet tables, much like the ones I’d bussed during wedding season when I was younger.

It lacked character. There were crimson touches throughout, but I would’ve expected more pink, seeing as it’s a fundraiser to preserve cherry blossoms.

It’s been a busy evening for me and the Gallagher brothers. Finn is dealing with Alex, and Mickey has been busy scaring the shit out of Chris. If Christopher isn’t careful, he’ll end up in a shallow grave. I wouldn’t be the least bit upset by that outcome.

Mick and Alexander Blake participated in the bachelor auction, raising millions for the charity.

Everything went as planned, with planted attendees bidding on the men.

Alex is as obsessed with Jaclyn as Mickey is with my sister.

If either had been won by a random woman—or man—I’d be out of a job and would be at the bottom of the Potomac faster than you can say cherry blossom.

Mickey has left me in charge of the hit on Tim’s opponent, making sure it can't be traced back to the Gallaghers. Not only am I orchestrating a murder, I also have to keep an eye on the incompetent wedding coordinator who planned Jaclyn’s wedding, Lisa.

If she steps out of line, I’ll also need to take care of her as well.

The night may end up bloodier than expected. It’s a good thing I have Ned on speed dial.

I make my way up to my room, which is strategically located across from our mark for the night.

Once inside, I take a moment to collect myself and change out of my black gown I’ll never wear again—I’ll donate it as soon as I’m back home to one of those organizations that provides prom dresses to anyone who can’t afford one.

In the morning, this will all be over, and I’ll be on my couch with warm oatmeal smothered in brown sugar, binging trash TV.

I’m four episodes behind on my favorite dating show, and so help me, if the girl picks the asshole real estate investor over the sweet, neurodivergent veterinarian, I’m going to cancel my streaming service.

Mickey’s planned power outage starts in fifteen minutes, giving our hitman plenty of time to get in, murder a guy, and get out undetected.

I slip on my favorite silk pajamas and pour a glass of chilled white wine that I paid entirely too much for in the shop downstairs.

Sav blanc and phone in hand, I begin my stakeout at the door, checking the peephole every minute or so.

The lights shut off and the emergency lights glow in the hallway. I switch on my portable lantern and take a long, deep breath.

It’s showtime.

With my eye glued to the peephole, I wait… and wait… and wait. The anticipation is killing me. Where the hell is this guy? We only have a short window to get this done.

I open my door and check the hallway. There’s a man pacing at the end of the hall, wringing his hands.

If it’s the hitman, why is he nervous? He stops and glances up.

I quickly shut my door, but if he didn’t see me, he definitely heard it close.

A moment later, there’s a knock and my heart leaps into my throat.

I check the peephole and breathe a sigh of relief—it’s just Finn.

I open the door, but before I can get a word out, he’s guiding me inside and closing the door behind him.

“We have a problem,” he groans, making a beeline for the small fridge.

“You think?” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’ve been waiting for the guy you hired to do his fucking job, but he’s a no-show.”

Finn pulls out two miniature bottles of whiskey. “You’ll need to take care of it.”

“Me? What? Why? This is above my pay grade, Mr. Gallagher.”

“I’ll triple your salary,” he insists without skipping a beat. Pouring the whiskey into short water glasses, he drinks one in two quick gulps, then hands me the other. “Do you own a gun?”

“Yes,” I reply carefully.

“Good. Then you can take care of the arsehole across the way.”

I down the cheap whiskey faster than he did and sputter a cough. “I don’t have it with me. Who brings a gun to a fucking gala?”

He pulls his piece from behind his back to show it off, then returns it. “I’d give you mine, but I have to deal with… something.”

“Right. Well, how am I supposed to kill a man without a gun? A hotel pen?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. “Where is the hitman you hired?”

“Dead.”

“Dead?” I gasp.

“Aye, dead. Which is why I need my gun. He had two hits tonight and was killed before he could get to the second.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What other hit?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does! No one briefed me on this. You’re asking me to kill someone—the least you can do is tell me who else the man was supposed to off tonight.”

“Tim McKinnon.”

I suck in a breath. “Why would you kill Tim? We need him to win Delaware! That was the whole fucking point of killing his opponent.”

“We need his wife to win Delaware, not him.”

Something’s wrong—Mickey would’ve mentioned this to me. Why would Ileah of all people win Delaware? She hasn’t held any political office. Hell, just like my sister, she hasn’t worked in nearly a decade. Finn’s been in love with her for years. Could he have orchestrated this behind Mickey’s back?

Yes. He absolutely could’ve. When it comes to the Gallagher brothers, nothing is impossible, especially when it involves the women they love. I need to be careful.

“Well, if you want Ileah to win, we’ll need to ensure she runs unopposed,” I hedge.

“Mickey should have a gun in his room. You’ll need to move quickly; the elevators aren’t working, and he’s two flights up.”

“This is bullshit,” I grumble, slipping on my canvas flats.

Finn grips my shoulders and sighs, “If you do this, I’ll ensure you have anything you want.”

What I want, I can’t have, but I nod, and he releases me.

As he rushes out, I grab my phone and follow, but where he turns left, I turn right to the stairwell.

I have maybe ten minutes before the power comes back on, and take the stairs two at a time.

Unfortunately, it’s a reminder I need to get back to the gym.

I’m panting as I make it up to his floor and check my messages to confirm his room number.

I sprint down the hall and knock on his door.

“Mr. Gallagher,” I shout. “Sorry to wake you, but I need your assistance.”

The door flings open, but it’s not Mick. “Evie, hi, um… is Mick here?”

“No,” she yawns, shaking her head as she opens the door wider. “He’s with Andrew in our room.

At the mention of Andrew, my heart squeezes. Mickey and I are in love with the same man, but only one of us gets to indulge ourselves. Maybe one day, I’ll find out what it’s like to experience it for myself.

“What’s going on?” She flips the light switch on and hums, “The power seems to be out.”

Mickey hides so much from Andrew and Evelyn; I’m unsure what I can share and what I can’t. I settle on, “Finn asked me to come here to get Mick’s gun.”

“Oh, um, it’s probably in the safe.”

I use the flashlight on my phone to help her unlock it. She hands it to me, and the cool metal feels heavy—mostly because of what I have to do with it. I reach for the silencer and attach it. “Thanks. Get some sleep, okay?”

I turn to leave, but she stops me. “Wait? Why do you need Mickey’s gun? Is he in trouble?”

“No. I just need to take care of… something.” If the vague reply works for Finn, it might work for me.

“Take care of what? Why do you need a gun? What the hell, Kristin! Are you in trouble? What’s going on?”

I take a deep breath in through my nose and sigh it out slowly. “If I tell you, you can’t say anything to Andrew—to anyone.”

“I promise.” She nods and takes my hand, squeezing it once. I trust her with my life, but if Mickey finds out I shared anything with her, he’d have no problem ensuring I never see my sister again.

“There’s a man running for office who the Gallaghers needed to, um, disappear today.”

“Disappear? Like…” She glances down at the gun and gasps. “No! You’re not going to kill anyone.”

“Yes, I am. There are a lot of moving pieces, but trust me, this has to happen.”

“Nothing has to happen,” she deadpans. “For fuck’s sake, you don’t have to murder a man to ensure he loses an election. What if you get caught? You’re willing to go to jail?”

“I don’t have time to argue with you about this. If you’re so worried, come be my lookout so I don’t end up in an orange jumpsuit.”

Evie throws on a pair of tennis shoes without socks and grumbles, “You fucking owe me for this one.”

I’m genuinely surprised she’s willing to help.

We’ve always looked out for each other, but asking her to assist me with getting away with murder is new territory for us.

Once she grabs her phone, we powerwalk to the stairwell and rush down the two floors and to my room.

I let her in and check the time—I have five minutes, maybe seven.

“Okay, here’s the plan. You need to leave this door open a crack so I can run inside if I need to. I’m going to knock on his door and ask to use their phone. If the mistress is there with him like she was last night, I’ll have to kill her too.”

“Are you sure this is the best idea?” She chews on her lip. “Maybe we could just talk to him? Or just have Mickey threaten him? Why does he have to die?”