Page 2

In which Logan and Arabella have the most appalling “Meet Cute” in history.

Arabella…

“We have less than an hour to kill him.”

“Why such a goddamn hurry? It’s not…” He takes a drink; I canna see the rest of his comment.

“The Boss wants proof of death, too.”

I’m frozen in the middle of the swirling sea of guests around me, a terrified wee island, still perfectly balancing my tray loaded with champagne. People stroll by and take a flute or two off my tray without really noticing me. I canna take my eyes off the two men standing by the stage. The speakers there are sending soothing classical music out into the ballroom, it’s making them confident that no one can hear them.

“Where is the arsehole now?” It’s the first man, a ginger with a full head of flaming red hair and eyes so light that they’re the color of spoiled milk.

“He’s talking to Abercrombie, the big guy with the red bow tie over by the bar.” Killer #2 is a smaller man, dressed in a tuxedo like the rest of the guests but wearing it awkwardly, bunched around the shoulders and short in the sleeves like he murdered someone to steal their suit.

My gaze rapidly darts to the bar. Oh. The gorgeous one, dark hair, towering a head above most of the guests. His teeth flash white in his beard as he grins at the dazed bartender.

Look at the men, ye eejit!

“...they said he’s scheduled to make an appearance at another party tonight,” Ginger guy says. “We’ll take him on the way…” Someone passes in front of them and I scream inside. “...car up and we’ll take him when he leaves through the side door. The fancy fuck’s Maserati is parked in that lot.”

“We can send the Boss his head. That’s proof.” Smaller guy chuckles. “Ah, he’s heading out.” His badly fitting tuxedo jacket flaps open and I see it. A big fecking gun in a holster.

This is real . This is going to happen.