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Chapter Twenty-Three

K enna stepped out of the little office, wondering how much of a chance she’d have to snoop in these back halls before someone discovered her.

She was about to ask Bruce what was going on when Charlie stepped into the hall at the far end.

“Come to escort me to the ballroom?”

He walked toward her, intensity in his stride and shadows on his face.

“Charlie.”

“It isn’t like we can have you wandering around the house,” Senator Woodford said from behind her.

“Is he okay?” She motioned to Charlie, who stopped in front of her.

“Charleston knows to do as he’s told,” the senator said. “Now escort Ms. Banbury to the ballroom before things get…interesting.”

Charlie grabbed her arm above the elbow and started for the door at the end of the hallway.

“It’s been a pleasure. Shame it had to be cut short,” she said over her shoulder. Trying not to trip on these shoes. Despite what Bruce said, she should have worn her Converse. These weren’t her people, not even if she was going to marry Jax and his family ran in these circles. Kenna had no need to impress any of them. “Hope you keep your end of the bargain.”

“Don’t worry. Our arrangement will be pleasurable, for both of us.”

Now she regretted saying anything at all because that just sounded gross. Why did smarmy bad guys always have to make things weird?

She pressed her lips together. He didn’t have to drag her; she could walk. She was perfectly capable of leaving this party on her own. But Charlie looked like an automaton right now. Someone brainwashed, trained to do his master’s bidding like a puppy dog.

Was this a substance the company had created? One that had suggestive powers or gave someone the ability to control another. There was a terrifying thought. She wasn’t drinking or eating anything for the remainder of this case unless she had made it herself or the container had been sealed.

He dragged her through the door.

“Let go of me, Charlie.”

His glassy gaze slid over to her. “Ask nicely.”

Kenna shifted her weight and brought her knee up between his legs. She knew she’d hit the jackpot when he doubled over and collapsed onto the floor. “Sorry, but it’s effective.”

He grabbed for her foot, anger suffusing his features. Crying out.

She jumped out of his hold and wound up kicking off the shoes. They’d been expensive but ridiculous. Not pricey enough for her to risk going back and retrieving them. She ran the few feet to the next door, the one that would get her into that back room at the top of the stairs.

Hopefully, Laney and Adrielle had managed to leave with no trouble. Her partner tonight was the first priority. “You read me, Bruce?”

“Loud and clear.” He sounded distracted.

“We’re bugging out.”

“And things were just getting interesting,” he said. “Thought that guy was going to proposition you right then and there.”

Kenna made a face. “I’m spoken for.”

Bruce chuckled. “Good for you, kid.”

They could talk about him calling her that later. After they got out of this. “What are you working on?”

“A treasure trove. I’m getting it all photographed so it uploads to Maizie or whatever y’all have setup.”

“If you’re in a lower level, it might not transmit until you’re topside. How far down did you get?”

“Subbasement four.”

Kenna blew out a breath. “So this place is even bigger than we know.” She ducked into the VIP room, trying to slip through without causing a scene. No one followed her from the hall, so she eased the door closed quietly. “Any sign of my mom?”

“No. Hang on. Someone is coming.”

“Forget what you have and get out. This situation is getting too hot.” He’d come here knowing that their enemy, this company, might be aware that he’d killed one of their high level assets. Considering she’d been trying to murder Kenna and Jax at the time, it was justified. But the company might hold a grudge against Bruce for protecting her the day she got engaged.

He would tell her he didn’t much care about the threat. He cared about the mission and their little group being safe. After that, he was going to take care of his own business with his former partner, or handler, whoever that guy had been. The rest of them would help, but they all knew this took precedence.

Through her earbud, she heard someone talking in a higher tone, like a woman’s voice, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

She eased through the VIP room all nonchalant and got to the top of the stairs, scanning the room. As if she would find Laney and Adrielle in the ballroom somewhere. They should be long gone by now.

She held the rail and descended the carpeted steps like it was perfectly normal to do that in bare feet and an expensive dress.

When she was almost to the bottom step, the front doors of the building flew open and crashed against the wall. Police in bulletproof vests and waterproof jackets strode in, followed by armed tactical officers. She rounded the stairs at the bottom just as they announced themselves.

“FBI! Nobody leaves, nobody causes a fuss. Everybody stays where they are.” The guy in charge wasn’t Miller, but she figured he would be here.

No one paid any mind. Most of the crowd jogged themselves out of their surprise and started to head for the exits.

Kenna glanced over her shoulder and saw local police and state cops. Mostly feds, though. But local SWAT were good and not to be left out of the fun. The cooperation between agencies was heartwarming.

She found a door under the stairs and tried the handle, finding it unlocked. She nearly thanked God, but considering she was fleeing the police, maybe that wasn’t the best idea. I always need help though, and that’s what You do. So, I’m asking for wisdom. This thing could go sideways so easily. Maybe it already did, and I just don’t want to admit it.

She ducked through the door, and a few people rushed after her, trying to get away from the cops.

Kenna spotted a kitchen, all brightly lit, at the end of the hall. She smelled cooking meat, and the top of the wall at the ceiling seemed a little hazy with smoke. The people with her pressed against her back, so she stepped to the side and let them pass.

An open door opposite her, halfway down the hall, led to a lower level. She slipped into the stairwell, pulling the door closed behind her just as a cop came into the hall. He didn’t notice her. She shut the door silently and felt for the wall, picturing the stairs in her head. Dark wood, about two feet wide, a little spiral staircase for staff to use to get around the house. For all she knew, down here was only a food pantry kept below ground so it remained cooler.

She eased her way down in the dark, tuning her senses to the sounds around her. The muffled swipe of each footstep. Nothing above her, but then that quiet was severed by a thud and a distant shout.

She kept going, winding around. Until she was certain she had gone several floors.

If someone was down here, she didn’t want to alert them to her presence by talking to Bruce over the comms. She didn’t hear anything on his end.

What had happened?

He’d indicated someone was going to discover him. But a trained spy would be able to evade being seen—unless his intention was to be caught.

Where was her mother and Zeyla? She could help them, but if her mom didn’t let her in on the plan, then there wasn’t much she could do. Who wanted to insert themselves into a situation where they weren’t welcome. It hurt her feelings a bit. But maybe there was a reason her mom was keeping her out of this. Like she was proactively trying to save Kenna from these people.

Her feet touched flat tile, colder than the wood of the stairs.

Kenna ran her hand over the wall, trying to find a light switch. She found some kind of switch and flicked it on. Overhead lighting flickered and then stuck in a dim yellow glow that switched on closest to her first. One by one, lights on the ceiling illuminated going away from her. A long hallway that took a minute to light up all the way down.

Her eyes widened.

In front of her was a dining table and chairs set up, and to the left, behind a glass wall with a door in the center, she could see racks of wine. Kept in a temperature-controlled environment.

Past the table, stacks of barrels used to age wine and other drinks were lined up. She didn’t know a whole lot about that process, but some of the barrels were stained red where the wine seemed to be leaking out.

If she wanted to cause a big problem, she could knock some shelves over. But right now, that would only be out of spite.

Upstairs, the police were already rounding people up. Arresting whoever they’d come here for or searching the place. Or were they commandeering equipment and documentation? She let out a frustrated grunt. Not being in the know was the worst.

Since there was no one around, she said, “Bruce, do you copy?” Her voice echoed in the open space, bouncing off the stone walls and wood barrels.

She sensed someone else, like she wasn’t entirely alone.

Bruce never responded.

She took a step into the open room and looked around for another door…or a person. “Mrs. Hadley.”

A woman stood beside a pedestal table, pouring herself a glass.

She wore a white pair of slacks and a white blouse that fit her loosely. Plenty of gold bracelets, and white sandals on her feet. She laughed a little. “Want some? We can toast that man’s demise.”

Kenna stared at her as she turned, then had to keep her gasp to herself.

“As if you don’t have an injury.” She motioned to Kenna with the glass nearly overflowing. Half the side of her face was angry with welts and bruises, and something wept from her left eye. She lifted her sleeve and wiped at it. In spots on the side of her head, it looked like her hair had been pulled out.

“Did Hadley do that?” Kenna asked. “It’s Clare, right? Is that really your name?”

“That would be my sister. My dead sister.”

“Sorry for your loss.”

She shrugged and took a sip of the drink. “It’s the one left alive that you should feel sorry for. The one who has to explain, justify, and suffer the consequences of that loss.”

“Amara traded you back.” Her mother had been coming here with Roxanne and Clare to exchange them for Zeyla. Kenna wanted desperately to know if that had been successful. “Isn’t that right?”

Or was it the reason her sister was dead.

This woman could either be the one she’d fought with in Hadley’s house or the one Stairns had tussled with. “Maybe I will have that drink. After you tell me your name.”

“What does it matter who any of us is?” She turned back to the bottle on a tray with a circle of short glasses. “But for what it’s worth, I’m Garnet.”

“Like the gem? That’s a nice name.”

“I sound like a stripper. I don’t use it.” She handed Kenna the glass.

Kenna sniffed it and discovered it was brandy, not whiskey. She didn’t like one and had never had the other. But if she needed a quick weapon, tossing this thing at Garnet was the fastest way to distract this woman so Kenna could either subdue her or make a run for it.

“So, you displeased them, and this is your punishment.” Kenna motioned with her chin at Garnet’s injuries. Kenna had covered the swelling on her face with makeup, and it was less noticeable than it had been the day before, but it must be clearly visible if Garnet picked up on it. “I know more about your life and how things work than you probably realize.”

“I know you think you do.” Garnet sipped her drink, turning to survey the barrels and then the wine behind the glass. “But if you did, you’d want what I want.”

“And what’s that?”

“To set fire to this whole place.”

“So you can escape, free and clear?”

Garnet glanced at her. “I’ll be in here burning along with the precious drinks. The priceless bottles that should be in a museum.”

“Will it put a dent in their operation?”

“Nothing will do that. I’ll be an inconvenience at best, but I’ll have made my point.”

“What if I can make you a better offer? The chance to take them down once and for all. To stop this company from continuing to victimize people and make the world what they want it to be.”

Garnet said, “You think you can do all that?”

“I know trying is better than the life you lead now.”

Garnet huffed, almost laughing but not quite. “And the punishment for failure will make me wish I was never born. I should know. I’ve already experienced it.”

She was trapped, defeated by a lack of hope—because it had been extinguished. There wasn’t much Kenna could offer that would change her mind. But she had to hope because if she lost that, then she was no better than this woman.

Out of options.

Forced to live a life by someone else’s dictates.

“They need you. That’s why they have to keep you in line.” Kenna let that sink in for a moment. “Otherwise, you would mean nothing. The things you do wouldn’t be important. Now that there’s only one of you, you’re doubly valuable.”

“After I’ve proven my loyalty to them.”

“So fight back. Live your life your way.”

Garnet said, “That sounds like a great idea.”

“Come with me. Help me take them down.” Kenna moved to the table so she could set her drink down. So they could get out of here and make a plan to finish this.

“My way. Remember?” Garnet tossed her glass at the table, shattering it across the surface and spilling alcohol. She grabbed Kenna’s cup and did the same thing. “I think I have a lighter in here somewhere.” She rummaged in a clutch on the stool.

“You can’t?—”

“My way.” She whipped around and stared at Kenna, rage in her expression. “Remember?” Garnet lifted a lighter and flicked it on. “I’ll give you a one-minute head start. There’s a door at the far end of the room.”

“Don’t kill yourself. Help me stop them.” What more could she do to implore this woman? To convince her to help?

Garnet tossed the lighter at the table, and the alcohol went up in flames. “Run, little mouse.”