RUSSELL BRADLEY CERTAINLY KNEW how to work his target audience. The actor was still posing for photos and offering congenial conversations with the female guests over forty, their sighs and excited exclamations echoing across the piano music coming from the opposite corner. Pete couldn’t blame the guy. Those women had made his most recent romantic drama with Michelle Pfeiffer a blockbuster success. And Pete would cash in on their lusting.
Pete moved around the fabric room dividers so he could get to Russell without having to approach him directly. He paused when he saw a trio of security guards huddled in conversation.
“I heard they’re looking for someone.”
“Nah, man.” One of the men shook his head. “They’re just here to control traffic.”
“Dude, they don’t hire real cops to direct traffic.” The first one said, shoving into the second guy. “They’d hire us.”
“Yeah.” The third guy laughed.
Pete looked to his left and out the window in the same direction the guards were looking. He spotted a deputy walking near the patio edge, a radio wire in his ear. Pete’s gaze moved farther along the dock until he spotted two more.
A chirping noise erupted from Pete’s pocket and the three men looked over at him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Thought I turned it off.”
The guards didn’t look like they cared, then they split up, leaving Pete to answer the alert on his phone. The hair on the back of his neck rose when he saw the flashing red exclamation point flickering over the app he was using to monitor the cameras he’d set up inside the bridal suite. He opened the app and clicked on the cameras filming Vivian. A warning banner popped up on the screen that sent a charge of panic coursing through him. Someone was piggybacking his system, giving them access to his cameras.
Pete looked up, searching around him. It wasn’t possible. Even if it was an accidental signal interference, no one would be able to get through the encryption on his app unless they were very good. And even then they’d have to be in close proximity, which meant whoever had breached his program knew what they were doing and wanted to see what he was seeing . . .
His head swiveled toward the hallway leading to the bridal suite. No. A sickening reality dropped into his gut like a ball of lead. His eyes moved back to the window. The deputy he’d seen earlier was gone. The other two were farther down the dock, patrolling the boat slips.
“They’re looking for someone.” The security guard’s words slammed into him. It couldn’t be. There was no way they were looking for him. He had systems in place. Safeguards. His fingers curled around his cell phone, ready to crush the device when his thoughts went back to the woman waiting in the bridal suite—her.
He quickly replayed the video of Vivian walking into the room, watching the way she glanced nervously around and . . . then opened the closet? Pete’s jaw clenched as his grip tightened around his phone. How had she figured it out? The email. She must’ve seen it before Otis broke into the Gazette and then somehow linked it to him . . . and then came to his gym and fed him the thickest line. Set him up. And he’d fallen for it. His blood started to simmer. So she’d figured it out? Did Vivian DeMarco really think she was going to take him down?
Pete walked around the curtained partition and through the crowd of women. “Excuse me, Mr. Bradley.”
The actor leaned back. “Yes, I’ll be with you in just one minute.”
“No, sir. I have a message for you from your daughter.” Pete moved forward so no one else could hear him. “Vivian.” A number of emotions moved through Russell’s eyes before concern settled in them. Pete had to admit the actor was good. “It’s quite urgent.”
Russell looked around the room. “Where is she?”
“I’ll take you to her.” Russell hesitated for a second, and it was all the confirmation Pete needed. This wasn’t part of their plan. A surge of satisfaction tempered his anger. “You should hurry. She seemed pretty upset. I’m not sure how much longer she’ll wait for you.”
The apprehension lining Russell’s forehead softened. “Okay.”
Pete led Russell toward the kitchen. “There’s a hallway to the left, through that door.”
Russell pushed through the door, entering into another hallway that was dimly lit and empty. Pete knew this hallway would lead to a small kitchen near the boathouse. The club built it so servers could go back and forth between both kitchens while being seen as little as possible by guests.
“Uh, are you a friend of Vivian’s?”
“Close enough that she told me you’re her father.”
Russell’s shoulders stiffened as they stepped into the boathouse kitchen. They passed stainless steel prep tables, an oven, and a refrigerator before they paused in front of another door.
“Where is she?”
“Waiting at a table on the other side of this door,” Pete said, wrapping his hand around the neck of a wine bottle.
When Russell turned the knob, Pete raised his arm overhead and swung it down against the back of Russell’s neck, sending the man pitching into a table and chair, overturning them. Pete froze, listening to see if someone had heard the commotion.
Assured his deed hadn’t drawn any attention, Pete used the tip of his shoe to nudge Russell’s leg. The man wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. He’d give Vivian DeMarco her family reunion—and he’d make sure it was painful.
He waited several minutes before starting back through the kitchen toward the gala, his pulse keeping rhythm with the angry cadence of his steps. Pete paused at the entrance of the dining room. Servers were taking their places near the kitchen to prepare for dinner service. He would need to do this quickly.
Pete slipped down the narrow hall toward the bridal suite where Vivian was waiting. Pausing outside the door, he pulled out his phone and opened the app connected to the cameras currently recording everything happening inside the room—or at least what was supposed to happen. He calmed the tremor in his fingers so he could enter the code. They might’ve blindsided him, but the tables would turn. He fixed his attention on the door in front of him. And now she will pay.
“Can I help you?”
A young man in a black security uniform started for him. He couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, a bit on the skinny side with a face still fighting acne like it wasn’t sure if puberty had done its part yet.
“Hey, I know you.” He smiled. “You coach the Cougars. Coach Robbins, right?”
The tiny name tag pinned beneath a silver badge that looked as official as one from the toy store said his name was Michael.
“I am, Mike.” Pete shook the guard’s hand. “You haven’t seen a drop-dead beauty about this”—Pete held his hand up near his shoulder—“this tall? Brunette? Green dress?”
“No, sir.” Mike shook his head. He tipped his head toward the bridal suite. “That room is closed. Did you check the restroom?”
“Not there.” Pete looked over his shoulder in the direction of the dining room. “They’re going to start dinner soon and I’m afraid my girlfriend might’ve spent a little too much time at the bar, if you know what I mean. Would it be okay if I just check this room to be sure?”
Mike looked from Pete to the door and then back, uncertainty clouding his eyes for a second before clearing. “How about I check? Don’t want you to get in trouble.”
Pete lifted his hands. “Don’t want that. These people can be a little uppity.”
“That’s the truth.” Mike opened the door and stepped into the suite, followed by Pete, who silently closed the door behind him.
Vivian stood up, surprise lighting her eyes as they went from Mike to Pete.
“Oh, here you are, honey.” Pete walked past Mike, making his way toward Vivian. “Too much wine?”
“What are you talking about?” Vivian stepped around the coffee table.
Pete stopped her with a tight grip on her arm. “Now, honey, don’t embarrass yourself.”
“Let go.” Vivian tried to pull her arm free, but he held on tight. She turned fearful eyes on Michael. “I’m not his girlfriend. He’s a crim—ow.” She cringed, grabbing at his fingers with her free hand as his nails dug deep into her skin.
“She’s had too much to drink. I’ll take her home.”
“No!” Vivian pleaded with Michael. “Go get help!”
Mike’s expression revealed a mixture of confusion and fear. He backed toward the door, his hand moving toward the gun on his waist. Why would they give this guy a gun? Nothing in the kid’s posture indicated he was prepared to use it, and Pete was going to take advantage of his inexperience. “Maybe I should go get someone,” Mike said.
“That’s a good idea.” Pete released Vivian’s arm and in two short strides closed the distance between him and Mike, putting him close enough to—
The thwack of the statue cracking into Michael’s skull radiated up Pete’s arm as he watched the kid’s eyes roll back into his head before he dropped to the floor. Vivian’s yelp was muffled by her hands covering her mouth, her expression aghast.
“Sorry, Mike.” Pete dropped the statue at Mike’s feet. He slipped the guard’s gun from the holster, then checked to see that it was loaded before tucking it into his waistband and looking up at Vivian. “You ready?”
Vivian shook her head, backing away from him. “What do you want?”
Pete glared. “To give you the family reunion you so carefully set up.” He opened the door an inch and peeked out.
“You really think I’m going to walk out of here with you?”
He pulled the gun from his waistband and pointed it at her. “You don’t have a choice. Besides, I’d hate for you to miss your opportunity to confront the man who walked out on you all those years ago.”
She swallowed, fear returning to her eyes. “Where’s Russell?”
“You’re about to find out.” He swung the tip of the gun toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Vivian hesitated and Pete drew back the slide on the gun, engaging a bullet in the chamber. She reluctantly walked close enough to him that he was able to take ahold of her arm and push the muzzle of the gun into her side.
He leaned in close, a curl from her hair touching his lips as he breathed in the sweet scent of her perfume. “Whatever your feelings are for your estranged father, you try anything and his blood will be on you.”
She narrowed her eyes on him and tugged her elbow free of his grip. He could see the fire behind her blue-gray eyes. “They’re waiting for you out there. You won’t even make it past the front door.”
The corner of Pete’s lips lifted in pleasure. “Watch me.”
Pete pulled Vivian close as they stepped out of the suite together. He looked down the hall toward the dining room where he could hear the clinking of silverware against glass. While shoving Vivian forward, his eye caught on the red fire alarm mounted to the wall. He smiled. He wouldn’t just make it out the front doors, but he’d do it right under their noses.
Woo-woo-woo.
The bellowing siren screamed through the building, drawing a commotion that echoed from the dining hall. Pete, not happy with the lack of expedience, aimed the gun at the ceiling and fired two shots—the effect immediate.
Screams competed with the fire alarm and a rush of men and women filled the hallway, civility forgotten as they pushed their way to the exits. Pete thrust Vivian into the melee, keeping her close and searching the doors for any signs of the deputies.
There. A deputy was fighting his way through the crowd, panic etched into the corners of his eyes. Pete tucked his chin, but Vivian must’ve seen the deputy because she raised up on her toes and tried to wriggle free of his grip.
“He’d hit the ground before he even knew what hit him.”
Vivian shrank back, her eyes casting one final glance toward the deputy as they walked past him, blending in with the frantic crowd scrambling toward the one thing Pete wanted too.
Freedom.