With his fingers still stroking the smooth skin of her neck, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Savoring the sweet taste of her, the warmth of her body against his. Part of him wished they were back at his place, where he could strip her out of that sexy red dress and make love to her appropriately. Lord knew it had been the only thing on his mind up until the moment he’d seen Duchein.
“We’ve got a guy at the front door makin’ a ruckus,” Z said, his voice sounding in Trace’s ear.
Pulling back from Marissa, he held her close, shielding her with his body.
“What’s he sayin’?” RT asked.
“Somethin’ about needin’ to talk to Max Adorite. He’s got some information or something.”
“The Adorites’ll handle it,” RT said softly.
“Only one problem with that, boss,” Z replied. “This guy pulled up in a blue Malibu.”
Trace stood up straight, glancing around the room once again. No way was that a coincidence.
“He just used Marissa’s name,” Colby confirmed. “Told security that he needed to speak directly with Max regarding Marissa Trexler.”
Fuck.
Scanning the room, Trace tried to locate Max, but the man was nowhere to be found. Nor were any of his kin.
Had they been set up? Had they walked right into a trap?
“We need to get her outta here,” Trace said quietly. “I don’t like this.”
Courtney’s voice sounded in his ear, but she didn’t sound as though she was talking to any of them. When she said Max’s name, that was confirmation that she was having a side conversation but allowing them to listen in. She’d activated her microphone, which happened to be in the diamond pendant she was wearing. Trace wasn’t sure whether that was an accident or not, but he searched the room to see if he could get eyes on her.
“Hey, Max. Sounds like there’s someone tryin’ to crash your party,” Courtney said.
“It’s bein’ handled,” Max confirmed. “Tell your boys to stand down.”
“As long as you can promise he won’t get anywhere near Marissa.”
“You’ve got my word on that,” Max assured her.
Trace had no idea where Courtney and Max were, and he’d lost sight of Duchein and RT, as well, so he merely moved with Marissa to the far side of the dance floor near one of the exits.
“What’s goin’ on?” Marissa asked again, her fingers gripping his arm. “What are we doing?”
“RT, give me a location.”
“Duchein’s on the move. He’s making his way around the room, keeping to the wall. I’ve got… Shit. I lost him. Copy that? I’ve lost Duchein.”
Trace swallowed hard, wondering whether Duchein had planted that distraction so that he could get closer to Marissa.
“Moving in,” Z announced. “Coming to the back door, Trace. I see you.”
“Roger that.”
Thankfully, Marissa didn’t ask any more questions as Trace ushered her past the groups of people toward the back door, his eyes probing the room, trying to find Duchein. He didn’t see the guy anywhere, nor did he see RT.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Courtney’s voice sounded in his ear. Clearly she was talking to Max.
“Hold up!”
The booming voice pulled Trace up short, and he turned, widening his stance and keeping Marissa safely behind him as he came face-to-face with…
“Well, look there. It’s none other than Special Agent Dan Duchein. Didn’t know you had an invite to this party,” Trace said roughly.
“We need to get her out of here,” Duchein insisted excitedly, his gaze never settling on one thing as he spoke. He tried to peer around Trace, but Trace merely shifted.
“Her?” Trace asked dumbly.
“Marissa Trexler,” he snarled. “The woman behind you? I’m here on official business. We got some intel that this is a setup. You’ve walked her right into a trap. The Adorites won’t let her leave here alive.”
Trace didn’t say a word, merely cocked his head and watched the man who couldn’t seem to keep his eyes still. He was nervous, fidgety. And that made the hair on the back of Trace’s neck stand on end.
“Ask him where his backup is?” RT asked in his ear.
“Where’s your backup?” Trace relayed.
“Two stationed at the front, two at the back,” Duchein offered, not missing a beat.
“If they are, they’re invisible,” Conner confirmed in his earpiece.
Duchein took a step closer. “I’m taking her into protective custody, Kogan. Nothing you can do to stop me.”
Trace squeezed Marissa’s hand, which he was still holding behind his back, and met the man’s stare, offering him a feral grin. “Over my dead fucking body,” he growled.
Duchein had the common sense to take a step back, but he didn’t back down. “This isn’t your call. She’s in danger, and you’re putting her there.”
“You’re the only danger to her, Duchein,” Trace stated, tired of fucking around.
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” he retorted, trying to sidestep Trace to get to Marissa.
Trace noticed the man’s professional demeanor was slipping quickly.
“I’m on your six,” Courtney’s soft voice whispered in his ear. “I’m escorting Marissa to Z.”
“Confirmed,” Z said.
Trace didn’t move, hoping Marissa was still hidden behind him enough that Duchein wouldn’t see her slip away. He needed a distraction, something to keep Duchein from going after Marissa. He silently willed RT to show up.
“And if you’re not cooperative, I’ll take you in for hindering a federal investigation,” Duchein declared.
“That so?” Trace asked, lifting his eyebrows as though he might believe him. He didn’t. Not for a fucking second.
“She’s not safe here, Kogan. Even you should know that. The Adorites conveniently invited you to this party knowing she’d come with you. How stupid can you be?”
“Not stupid enough to believe you,” Trace said when he felt a light tap on his back.
“Courtney’s bringin’ her my way,” Z confirmed.
“And what? You think I’ve got somethin’ to do with this?” Duchein barked, laughing. He attempted to peer around Trace, but Trace moved with him, keeping him from seeing past him.
“You said it, not me,” Trace replied.
In that moment, just when he thought Duchein was going to do something stupid, like lunge for Marissa, RT walked up, flanking Trace’s left side, a fake smile plastered on his face.
“Agent Duchein,” RT greeted as though he had no idea what was going on. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“Like I was tellin’ your boy here. This is official business. I’m here to take Marissa into protective custody.”
“How’d you know she would be here?” RT asked, his eyebrows downturned skeptically.
“I’ve got Marissa,” Z told them through the transmitter. “Conner’s with us. Escorting her out.”
“I’m on my way back to you,” Courtney informed them.
Trace continued to stare down Duchein.
“Gentlemen, why don’t we take this somewhere with a little more privacy,” Courtney said sweetly when she approached, smiling at them. “Our gracious host has offered his office.”
Duchein’s eyes widened, but he covered his surprise quickly.
“After you,” Trace stated, turning and holding out his hand for Duchein to follow RT.
The man didn’t move.
“Where is she?” Duchein barked. “Where is Marissa Trexler?”
“Who?”
It was Max who questioned him as he came to a stop just a few feet from where they still stood.
Duchein looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
For a fraction of a second, Trace found the situation amusing.
But that didn’t last long.
Forty
“Gentlemen, either we relocate this conversation to my off
ice or things are about to get real ugly,” Max ground out, his amber eyes sparkling with what Ryan assumed was anger.
Not that Ryan blamed him. Arguing in the middle of the man’s party was disrespectful. An all-out fight would be downright stupid.
Ryan could tell the man’s patience was being tested, so he opted to do as Max suggested. “Lead the way, Mr. Adorite.”
Knowing that Trace would bring up the rear, Ryan fell into step with Max, who had his hand possessively against Courtney’s lower back. Although Ryan wondered what the hell was going on with those two, he opted to ignore his curiosity. There’d be plenty of time to grill her about her association with the underboss of the Southern Boy Mafia later.
Max suddenly looked over at him, and Ryan leaned closer to hear what he had to say. “If anything happens to her,” Max said under his breath, loud enough for only Ryan to hear, “I’ll kill you myself.”
“He always had an issue with me knowin’ how to protect myself,” Courtney said sharply. “It’s one of the reasons our relationship never worked out.”
Ryan grinned as he watched Trace’s sister strut toward Max’s office, obviously knowing where she was going. He didn’t like the fact that she had been—or possibly still was—involved with Max, but it really wasn’t his place to get involved. As much as he wanted to give his two cents, they had bigger issues to deal with.
“Where is she?” Duchein demanded when the five of them entered Max’s office, the same place Ryan and Z had talked to him a few days ago, along with two of Max’s bodyguards.
The doors closed behind them, but no one took a seat.
“Where is who?” Courtney questioned, sounding sweet and oblivious. The woman knew how to play a part well.
“Marissa Trexler.”
Courtney glanced at RT. “I thought she was with you.”
RT turned to Trace. “I thought she was with you.”
Trace shrugged. “I thought she was with you.”
The fact that Trace didn’t direct his statement to anyone in particular made it clear they were bullshitting Duchein, but Ryan didn’t actually give a shit. He wanted some fucking answers, and it was high time he got them.
“Question is, what do you really want with Ms. Trexler?” Max said, his tone hard, firm.
“She’s … uh… We’re… That’s none of your goddamn business.”
“No? Considering this is my house, my fucking party, I’d say it’s exactly my business.” Max’s voice remained calm, a deadly rumble in the oversized room.
“I don’t answer to any of you,” Duchein retorted. “Don’t forget who I am. Who I work for. Trust me, you’ll regret double-crossing me.”
“Double-crossing? Is that what you call this? Seemed more to me like biting the hand that feeds you,” Max said, sarcasm dripping from his every word. “Now, we can settle this like men or you can take your chances with my boys.” Max nodded to the two gunmen flanking the exit. “Either way, we’re going to get a few answers before you go.”
“I have nothing to say. To anyone.”
Ryan wasn’t sure whether Duchein was talking to them or to Max, but he didn’t get a chance to ask before Duchein caught Courtney by surprise, grabbing her and pulling her against him, his gun pressed to her head.
The guy’s first mistake was underestimating every person in the room. He instantly turned to face the two bodyguards—likely planning his escape route—but a round of clicks was all that could be heard in the silence of the room.
When Duchein glanced back over at them, the look on his face was priceless.
Three guns were pointed directly at the back of his head. And though Ryan had no qualms about shooting the asshole dead, and he doubt Trace did, either, he didn’t think they’d get the chance before Max got a few rounds off.
An animalistic growl erupted from beside them, and RT knew what was coming. Max Adorite was about to lose his shit and Ryan understood why. If he were a betting man, he’d lay every dime he owned on the fact that Max was in love with Courtney Kogan.
Which meant Duchein had just put a target on his own fucking head.
□«»□«»□«»□
Trace watched while the special agent asshole put a gun to his sister’s head, and he had to rely on every ounce of his training to keep from blowing Duchein’s fucking brains all over Adorite’s clean floors.
“Let. Her. Go,” Max commanded, his tone harsher than Trace had ever heard it.
“Let me out of this room and I’ll do that,” Duchein countered.
“Open the door for him,” Max instructed the two guards.
The doors opened, and Duchein glanced over his shoulder, taking two steps back and pulling Courtney with him.
“Duchein, I’m gonna make myself very, very clear. You better listen to every single word.”
Duchein lifted one eyebrow as he watched Max intently, clearly waiting for him to continue.
“You hurt her in any way, I’ll gun you down myself and put a bullet in your face. Feel me?”
Duchein merely nodded as he continued to back out of the room. When he got to the door, he released Courtney, pushing her forward. She stumbled but righted herself immediately, pulling her little .38 from beneath her dress before aiming it at Duchein.
“Hey, Duchein!” Max called out as the man turned to flee. “You can run, but I can guarantee I will find you. And when I do…”
“Goin’ somewhere?”
Trace smiled when he heard the sound of Z’s voice. The big guy stopped Duchein with a hand to his chest, effectively forcing him back into the room, Conner directly behind them.
For a brief second, Trace’s heart seized up in his chest when he saw that Marissa wasn’t with them, but then, the world righted itself as she stepped into view, her arm intertwined with Colby’s as though they were a couple out for a stroll.
“I believe this is yours,” Colby said with a grin as he delivered Marissa to Trace.
Without wasting a breath, Trace pulled her against him, wrapping her in his arms and holding her tight. “Are you okay?” he whispered in her ear.
The relief he felt nearly leveled him. He knew there were more important things to deal with, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from running his hands over her arms, her neck, her cheeks.
“Fine,” she said, her voice stronger than he’d expected.
“I guess the night’s not over yet, huh?” Max questioned facetiously, reaching for Courtney and pulling her behind him. Surprisingly, she didn’t put up a fight, but Trace could tell she wasn’t happy with Max.
Those two had some serious issues.
“So, why don’t we try this again,” RT said.
Duchein stared back at RT, looking as though he wanted to strangle someone. Kind of sucked to be the guest of honor, especially when everyone in the room wanted a piece of you.
“What do you want with Marissa Trexler?” Max asked, his gravelly words reeking of impatience.
“To take her into protective custody,” Duchein stated firmly.
“That’s horseshit,” Z declared.
“Do you even know who I am?”
“I’ve got this one,” Trace said loudly. “I think I’ve answered it before. A prick in a suit. That’s the right answer?”
Duchein snarled but didn’t have a comeback.
Trace was tired of playing games. Glancing at Z, he nodded for him to take Marissa. And when she was safely with the other man, Trace closed the gap between him and Duchein, his gun aimed at the ground.
Gripping the front of the guy’s shirt, he yanked him closer. “I’m fucking tired of the bullshit, asshole. Either you answer the questions or I’m gonna assume I know them already.”
“What do you think you know?” Duchein growled in response.
Trace lifted his trusty 9mm, a comfortable, familiar weight in his hand, and pointed it directly at Duchein’s forehead. “That you’re a greedy fucking bastard. That you’re sellin’ confiscated guns, and when the media got a little
too close to the truth, you panicked, taking out an innocent journalist and trying to kill Marissa. That sound about right?”
Duchein’s jaw clamped shut.
“So, during this war of yours for the past year, we lost one of our best agents, another took a bullet from one of your hired guns, and Marissa has lived through hell trying to hide from you. All because you wanted her silenced.”
Duchein’s eyes darted over to Max. “She knows too much. She can bring us all down.”
“Who’s us?” Max asked innocently.
“That’s bullshit. Don’t you dare pin this shit on me.”
A door opened, but this time it wasn’t the French doors that led from the main house. This was a door at the back of the room. All eyes turned to see who was coming in. All except Trace. He kept his locked on Duchein’s face, his gun still pressing firmly against the weasel’s forehead.
“Recognize him?” RT asked. “The guy used to work for you, right? But then you sent him to us. Asked him to try to get some inside information.”
Trace didn’t look away, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Clay leading Isaac Rhames closer to them. Would’ve been nice to know the plan, but Trace decided not to dwell on that.
Duchein didn’t say anything, but the guilt was reflected in his eyes.
“Mr. Rhames, you have anything you wanna say?” RT asked.
“He’s the one I work for,” Isaac said. He didn’t sound happy about selling himself out, but considering Clay was standing behind him with a gun pointed to his head, he really didn’t have much of a choice.
“Bring the other one in,” RT insisted.
One of the guards near the main doors opened them and called out to someone. A second later, another man entered, restrained and held at gunpoint by one of Max’s other goons.
Trace once again kept his eyes trained on Duchein’s face. He witnessed a hint of worry there this time.
“Gotta name?” RT asked the newcomer, who was immediately flanked by Conner.
“That’s the guy from the mall,” Courtney commented. “The one who tried to grab Marissa.”
Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) Page 34