Page 81 of Stars and Scars

The last thought I have as my consciousness dwindles is that Charlotte is in terrible danger, and I can’t do anything to help her.

21

CHARLOTTE

Itry my best to act at ease while Grayson is gone. This proves difficult when anyone at this party might be a spy for the Aegis Order.

And where did Malloy go? I saw him heading in my direction a minute ago and then poof, nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’s grabbing another drink.

Part of me wishes the Order had never targeted me. But if that were so, I would never have met Grayson. It’s difficult to reconcile my feelings, because while the Order terrifies me, I can’t imagine not having met Gray.

I spot a real ‘lady-killer’ lounge lizard type coming up toward me. I cringe on the inside, but I can’t escape since Grayson told me to stay put, where people can see me.

He’s at least twenty years older than me, his hair suspiciously jet black and fuller on top of his head than it should be. His grin stretches ear to ear as he holds up two glasses of champagne.

“Excuse me, but you looked thirsty so I brought you a drink.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t accept that,” I say with an apologetic smile.

“Why not?” I can tell he’s not daunted. The last thing I need is a hanger-on.

“Because I’m the designated driver for my friends. Sorry.”

He shrugs and sets the champagne down.

“Then can I get you some fruit punch? Or some bottled water? My boy Wyatt always imports the good stuff.”

“No, thank you, I’m fine. I’m just waiting for my friend.”

A sneer mars his face.

“Yeah, well, your loss, then.”

I sigh as he retreats. He’s the third guy to come up and try to hit on me since we got here. I bet he wouldn't dare if Gray were around.

I check the time, and find Gray has only been gone for about fifteen minutes. It seems like a lot longer. I’m starting to wish I hadn’t let him run off on his own. He could probably use some backup. If he had backup during our paparazzi car chase, maybe he could have identified the second car.

Only, if I went with him now, how much help could I actually be? I try to remind myself that this is Gray’s wheelhouse. This is what he was trained for, the kind of mission he must have done a hundred times for the CIA. It’s silly for me to worry about him, or to think that my presence would really make a difference.

I look around the party, wrinkling my nose in distaste. I’ve been to plenty of LA parties. Some of them are more wild than others. I’m not sure what bothers me so much about Wyatt’s guests. It all seems so excessive. I watch as a woman, naked but for body paint, rides by on a unicycle juggling condoms filled with whipped cream.

I check the time again. Gray’s been missing for almost half an hour now. I reach into my purse and feel the comforting weight of the squarish stun gun Easton loaned me what seems like forever ago at the Platinum Security office. I’m not completely defenseless without Gray.

I decide I’m going to give him ten more minutes. Ten more minutes, and then I’m looking for him.

Those ten minutes pass like absolute torture. I keep imagining scenarios where Gray is hurt or in trouble, and my wasting time before I even begin to search is what condemns him to death. Right now, I’m more worried about Gray than I am for myself.

The thought hits me like a ton of bricks. I’ve never felt that way for anyone before, other than my parents. But if risking my life can save Gray, it’s something I will do without hesitation.

I check the time. Nine minutes. Close enough. I move away from the pillar I’ve been leaning against since Gray left and start the search. The only problem is, he went through a doorway that’s closely guarded by tuxedo-wearing bouncers.

Gray’s friend Malloy helped him get through. I don’t have anyone to provide a distraction, but there must be another way into that part of the villa, even if I have to go outside and come in another way.

I start searching. It’s a difficult task, because I’m trying so hard to make it look like I’m NOT searching for a way to sneak past the guards. I feel like Gray could do this so much better. I’m not a spy, and I’ve never had his CIA training.

Yet I have an awful feeling that Gray is in some kind of trouble, and might need my help. I can’t give up. I have to find a way to help him. Just as I set upon the idea of finding a fire alarm and pulling it, I run into the one man I had hoped to avoid. Wyatt.

“Hey, hey, it’s the other Ms. Paltrow,” he says, eyes glassy and a half-empty champagne bottle in his hand. “Come on, I want you to meet my friend Boris. He just flew in from Russia, and the only English he knows is ‘have a nice day.’ It’s wonderful.”

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