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Chapter Twenty-Two

B ruce escorted her through the front door. She half expected someone to announce their names to the ballroom, but with the number of guests here, that would become tiresome.

The expansive ceiling had arches several feet apart, all the way down to two halves of a staircase that met on an upper level opening to the right. It seemed the party was going on up there also. People were moving up and down the stairs, and music was coming from the center of the room, where a stringed ensemble played in front of the fireplace.

To the left, the high wall had a number of tapestries.

“Are we in Colorado, or did we flip back to Europe again?” Bruce muttered.

“It does look like the inside of that house we toured.”

“They wish. It’s not the same.”

She smiled. “You liked it there.”

“But the US is home. Or it was, now it’s the place I can’t leave.” Bruce patted her arm. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just a nostalgic old man having a moment.”

There was a lot she could say, but not much that would be helpful. He’d signed on to be a CIA officer knowing the risks. He’d been burned through no fault of his own, as far as she knew. Left in England with his government denying all knowledge of him. A burned spy could be killed by any foreign government, and the US wouldn’t bat an eye—or retaliate.

Now that he was back in the US, at least he could be home, but it probably did feel a lot like being trapped.

“You ever want a change in your job, you let me know.” She glanced at him. “And if you wanna go after that guy you saw. The one who got you burned? I’m all in.”

Bruce grinned. “You say the sweetest things.”

She smiled.

“You’re probably gonna have Stairns do it, but…”

“What?” She shook her head.

“If you needed someone to walk you down the aisle, I’d do it. I wanna do it.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“It’s fine, though.” He patted her arm. “You have other people in line in front of me.”

She squeezed his hand because he was right. “Thanks for offering.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go do some work now. Maizie gave me some gadgets, and I wanna try them out.” He lifted his brows. “I’ll be back. Maybe.”

Kenna chuckled.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Knock ’em dead.”

“That is the plan.”

Bruce wandered off, and she heard him chuckling as he moved away from her through the crowd. Kenna turned toward one of the two bar stations and asked for a soda. She needed to find Jax’s mom and sister in this ocean of people. Or her mother. Maybe Zeyla or Roxanne or Mrs. Hadley. Maybe she had no idea what she was doing here. It was only a fishing expedition.

Better yet, she could trust Bruce to do his job and find Amara, and she could safeguard the people who would be her family when she said, “I do,” to Jax.

Kenna sipped the soda. The sleeves of her dress hooked over her thumbs, and the material bunched up at her elbow when she lifted her arm, but buying a dress with sleeves had been more of a reflex than anything else. No one needed to see her scars. In a room like this, full of power brokers, that sign of weakness would let them know she could be devoured like prey. She needed every way she could find to level the playing field.

Maizie had sent photos of the key players on the guest list—the ones most likely connected to the company they were fighting. She flipped through the images once more, then decided to do a circuit of the ballroom.

“If you want an introduction to the senator, I can make that happen.” His voice was like syrup that was a little too sweet.

She turned to him, standing far too close to her, and lifted her gaze. Maybe twenty-five at best, slicked back hair, and a tailored suit with a silk tie.

“Is that right?” She lifted one brow and tried to pretend Jax was being enticing about going out for Mexican food.

It worked if his smile was anything to go by. “I work for the senator. I have all year, since I graduated from Harvard.”

“Wow. That’s impressive.”

“I’m Charleston Whitworth-Harrow. My friends call me Charlie.” He held his hand out.

She shook his oddly smooth skin, wondering what he thought of her hand. That was only the beginning of the differences between them. “Kenna Banbury.”

She waited to see if he recognized her name. It wasn’t impossible. When he didn’t react, she figured she was in the clear. He wasn’t going to drug her and take her to some cell in the basement where they would remove a kidney and half her liver—or whatever was on the menu.

At least, not in the next ten minutes.

“Kenna. That’s a great name.” It was a little too rehearsed. “Let’s go find the senator. Last I saw, he was holding court upstairs. It’s quieter in the billiards room, but mostly, they just prefer to camp out close to the cigar cabinet.”

Kenna smiled like he couldn’t possibly have said something more interesting if he tried. In her ear, through the comms earbud she’d inserted in the car, she heard a snort.

Bruce said, “This guy. Where’d you find him?”

She cleared her throat.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m searching the lower level. Catch you later.”

Charlie had said something.

“Sorry.” Kenna shook her head. “I’m a bit mesmerized by this place. I didn’t catch what you said.”

He reached the stairs first, grasping the thick dark wood handrail and stepping up onto the red floral pattern carpet. He paused. “I asked what you do for a living.”

“My father was an author. He published a number of books and movies. So long ago no one nowadays has seen them. But I don’t have to work. This is going to sound terribly entitled, but I have a trust fund.” She tried to blush but doubted it actually happened.

“How scandalous.” He chuckled. “A trust fund. What is the world coming to?” His grin spread wide.

She laughed, trying to sound like a delighted college-age girl. Kill me now. Surely, he knew she was too old for this. But it was easier to act like a vapid person with no job who failed to contribute to the world than it was to pretend to be a physicist. There were less questions to answer.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m afraid I’m one of those people.”

“We should form a club,” he said as they ascended the stairs. “Tell me, what did you buy with your last check?”

She smiled, as if delighted to be asked. “A dress. It’s pretty fabulous, if I might say so. I’m saving it for a special occasion.” She quoted the retail price with alterations and the shoes.

Charlie whistled. “I bought a yacht. It’s in Virginia Beach. I think I’m going to sail down to Nassau. Spend some time in the Caribbean this summer.”

“Will the senator give you the time off?”

He waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll be ready for a change of direction by then. How about you? What would you say if I asked you to go with me for the summer?”

They slowed at the top of the stairs.

“I’d say you should ask someone you know. Otherwise, you might find yourself stuck on a boat with an axe murderer and no way to save yourself.”

Charlie tipped his head back and laughed. “An axe murderer. That’s a good one.”

Two women stepped out of the upper room. Laney and Adrielle. Kenna gave Laney wide eyes that hopefully said, Save me .

“Charleston Whitworth-Harrow, are you bothering my dear friend?” Laney picked up her pace, came over, and kissed Kenna on the cheek. She whispered, “You owe me.”

Kenna said, “So good to see you, Laney.” She reached out to Jax’s mother and said, “Adrielle.”

The older woman squeezed her hand. “I didn’t expect to see you here, dear.”

“You know me. I like to party.” Kenna chuckled.

“I’m going to introduce Kenna to the senator,” Charlie said, motioning to the door.

Adrielle frowned.

“I’ve always wanted to meet a senator. Charlie here is so sweet to offer to let me meet his boss.” She lifted her brows a couple of times. “Maybe I’ll get an internship, too.”

She squeezed Laney’s hand and whispered, “Love you guys, but you should leave this party.” Then, she kept going up the stairs. If only she could escort them out.

Laney gave a subtle nod. Good. She got the message.

Kenna went with Charlie, sliding her arm through his. “Can you believe she wore that dress? Green is so last season.” Kenna had no idea what she was talking about, but people in this echelon of society bonded over the failure of others. Pretty much like most echelons of society. She was guessing Charlie would be receptive to it.

He snorted. “My father’s housekeeper wore a green dress on New Years Eve. It was a monstrosity. You should’ve seen how hideous it was. I’ll show you a picture after I introduce you to…oh, there he is.”

The man in question, Senator Woodford, sat on a wingback chair in the corner, surrounded by people on the edge of their seats leaning toward him evidently enraptured by whatever he was saying.

Charleston Whitworth-Harrow was apparently the kind of intern who could motion with one finger, interrupt the entire conversation, and have Woodford lifting his drink for a last sip, leaving his cigar in the ashtray, and coming over to them.

“Senator, this is Kenna Banbury.”

That was the introduction that got her a reaction. “Is it really.” Statement, not a question. The senator had some years on him, but the advances of modern cosmetic medicine had smoothed out the rough edges. His nails were buffed. His top button was unfastened, and his eyes were slightly glassy, making her wonder if it was only the drink that had him in this fuzzy, altered state.

The senator looked her up and down, then said, “Get lost, son.”

“Yes, sir.”

He barely glanced at Charlie as he disappeared into the crowd. He stared down at her from a height at least two inches taller. He wasn’t thick in the chest. He had slim hips and slender legs under those well-tailored pants, but she wasn’t going to underestimate him. It took considerable grip strength to whack a golf ball for hours every week and a keenly deceptive mind to operate in political circles.

Best to do this the easy way. “I won’t be calling you sir .”

“No, I don’t suppose you will.” His expression gave away nothing. “Pretty brazen of you to simply walk in the front door.”

“No one stopped me.”

“They were instructed not to bar your entry.”

And her companion? “So, your people clocked me from the moment I entered and have had eyes on me ever since.” She hoped Laney and Adrielle were out. And that no one was going to snap a trap shut on Bruce and end whatever snooping he was doing right now.

She had to trust he had the skills to evade capture because there wasn’t much else she could do to help him.

This would become an elaborate exchange of assets if it came to it. She wasn’t above bartering. Did Amara even know all the ways this could go wrong?

In her ear, Bruce said, “Don’t worry about me.”

The senator said, “We should go somewhere less busy. Then we can have a conversation.”

She didn’t like the sound of it, but Bruce needed more time with Amara. It wasn’t like they would simply allow her to walk out the door. “Lead the way.”

He took her to the back of the room and a doorway where he entered a code. She didn’t catch all the numbers, but just enough she could get through the door if she had a few minutes. The dimly lit hallway was lined with wood paneling that added to the darkness.

Another room off to one side held an office with a single desk and a high-backed chair. Walls of bookshelves. Artwork above a fireplace that looked like it had been carved out of a single piece of stone. Real wood logs, now ashy in color, on a metal grate. A wide window covered by floor-to-ceiling heavy drapes.

“Nice office.”

Woodford went to the credenza, opened it, and drew out a glass decanter with a stopper on top. He motioned to her with it.

“No thank you.”

“I’m sure you aren’t here for my decorator’s number.”

“How do you know?” She folded her arms loosely so they didn’t hurt but enough to look as if she intended to be defiant. “Maybe I am.”

He chuckled, pouring himself a hefty serving of whatever that was. “You walked in my front door. You could’ve called. What do you want, Kenna Banbury?”

“Zeyla.”

He simply stared at her.

“Which begs the question, why would I rescue one woman and leave an organ trafficking operation to continue? Not really my style to live and let live, is it?”

“So, we’re to be at odds?”

“Depends,” she said. “Are you the one kidnapping people and taking their body parts out?”

He sat on the edge of the desk like a pompous rich guy who’d become a senator purely so he could feel like he ruled the world. “Me? That’s amusing. You won’t find me getting my hands dirty, I can assure you.”

“Yeah, I bet.” She lowered her arms, feeling a little exposed in a dress. Not that she’d left her weapons behind, they were just concealed a little better than normal. “Give me the people who are responsible, and I’ll be on my way.”

He seemed amused for a moment, took a sip of his drink, and then shrugged. “Very well. You have a deal. I’ll give you the couple.”

“And Zeyla.”

“That will be a little more difficult, as I have no idea who that is.”

Great. He could have nothing to do with the company, or he might be up to his eyeballs in the whole thing with no intention of admitting that to her. “Don’t worry, I’ll find her myself.”