Page 56 of Midnight Wedding

Tigran rubs his temples. “That’s… barely better.”

“All I need to do is get inside and wait. I’m going to stroll straight into Aunt Sona’s fucking party.”

“It’s a silent auction, not a party.”

“Does that matter?”

“Absolutely, yes. There isn’t going to be a lot of loud music or flashing lights to hide behind. This is a bad idea.”

I turn away from the mirror. Tigran’s right, but I put a time limit on how long I have to solve this fucking civil war issue. If I’mgoing to get it done in less than a month, I have to take some risks.

“Just stay nearby in case it goes bad.”

“It’ll go bad.” He checks his weapon to make sure it’s loaded. “But I’ll be around. Scream if you need me.”

I pause to lightly pat his cheek. He glares at me. “You’re a good brother.”

“Better than you deserve.”

I can’t argue with that.

The hotel is a beautiful early twentieth-century building right in the heart of Baltimore with great views of the harbor. The place is always crowded and nobody looks at me twice as I walk out from one of the more secluded bathrooms and head down the hall toward the event space.

Aunt Sona spared no expense and invited half of the city’s elite to her little charity gathering. But I doubt it was out of some sense of civic duty. She doesn’t give a shit about childhood education or whatever the auction’s benefiting. These people are here because she wants them on her side as this war begins to heat up.

I’d do the same thing in her place.

Hell, Iamdoing the same thing. Only I’ve been making smaller, more individual visits to ensure nobody defects against me.

I manage to reach the ballroom without anyone saying anything. I walk around the edge of the room, almost invisible. The people here don’t bother looking twice at staff. To them, any man or woman in cheap black slacks and a crappy black button-downis less than human. We’re basically drink-and-food dispensing robots in their minds.

Which is good. I take the opportunity to lurk in a far corner. Tables are set up where the dance floor would normally be and a ton of stuff is stacked in neat little rows. High-end jewelry and handbags, watches and bottles of wine, even a few paintings and sculptures, tickets to baseball and football games, stuff like that. Shit rich people would happily overpay for.

And chittering among the city’s elite are my aunt and uncle. Sona and Garen are positively beaming as they shake hands and charm their way into every conversation. Garen’s good like that, I have to admit. He’s got a disarming smile and a fantastic laugh. I can hear him from across the room roaring about something and all the men around him are beaming too. Sona’s a little tougher—no matter how hard she tries, the woman’s got a face like a pissed-off Doberman—but she can smile and kiss cheeks and write fat checks with the best of them.

“Hey, you got a job?” A balding man in a caterer’s outfit frowns at me as he’s walking past. His tray’s piled with empty plates. “Take these to the back if you’re not busy. Some fucking prick pissed all over the floor in the bathroom.”

“I was doing, uh?—”

“You were staring at the rich people. Newsflash, none of the old ladies in here are going to suck your dick. Now get to fucking work.”

I like this guy. I’m grinning behind my mask as I take the tray. If he knew who I was, he’d never talk to me like that. But hell, good for him. Ballsy fuck. I’ll kill him some other time.

I carry the dirty plates to the back. The dishwashers are shouting at each other. I like the bustle and noise back here. I like the laughter and the little radio playing Spanish music in the corner. Some dish boy gives me a little smirk and asks if I got any fat tips yet, and I’d better share if I do.

“Just a gummy old lady offering to take out her dentures for a little private time,” I answer, which gets the whole place roaring.

Guess they like a little blowjob humor.

Maybe I won’t kill that asshole manager after all, since I stole his joke.

I’m starting to think this is going to work. I sneak back out of the kitchen but only make it a few feet before I spot three men I know very well. It’s the chief of the Baltimore Police Department, and he’s flanked by his top two cronies. I spin on my heel, heart racing. If they spot me?—

“Hey, excuse me? Yeah, you, hold on a second.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck,fuck.

“Yes, sir?” I don’t turn around.

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