Page 2 of Sweet Deception
Apart from the doors leading into the catering kitchen, there are only two exits, both obscured by pairs of thick, tattooed linebackers with guns.
Well, I’m definitely in the right place.
Panic cramps my stomach. I call on every ounce of my former ballet training to keep my motions fluid and controlled.
While scanning the crowd, I note the two grooms. A jagged scar bisects the face of the big scary one, Finn Gallagher, cutting through his cheek and lip. Cian Mahoney, who’s standing nextto Finn, gives off a rich playboy vibe with his pretty face and lazy smile. I note the location of the scarred groom’s father—Shane Gallagher, the head of the Irish Kings—because I definitely want to steer clear of him.
I shiver. You don’t mess with these types of people…not if you hope to live another day.
I continue studying faces. I need someone who’s important enough that their phone would have sensitive information that might help me find Lucy, but who’s also disengaged enough from the wedding that I can move in and get what I need undetected.
A drunk associate could do the trick, but in this moment, I’m coming up short.
And then my gaze locks onhim.
Sitting alone at a table removed from the action, the man methodically flicks a lighter open and closed like he’s bored out of his mind.
I migrate in his direction, offering bacon-wrapped scallops and crostini with goat cheese and figs to a new throng of wedding guests along the way.
When he raises his head, recognition crackles through me, along with a zing of something else. Something that I absolutely cannot let distract me.
But what the…Bozhe moy, he’s even more striking in person than in his online photos.
Blond hair cropped short and neat and perfectly coiffed. Square jaw. And the most mesmerizing pair of eyes I’ve ever encountered. Shockingly blue, laser-focused, and unnervingly alert despite their aura of detachment.
Between that face and the way he fills out that tux, it’s a wonder he’s not drowning in horny bridesmaids.
Aside from his fingers playing with the lighter, his entire body appears dangerously still.
The man slips his phone from his pocket to read a message, and after a glance, drops the phone on the table face down.
My heart leaps. He may be my best shot.
The nervous writhing in my gut spreads until my entire body feels like one big infestation. I picture Maya’s face in my mind. My best friend. Her thoughtful dark eyes and honey brown skin. Her sister Lucy, who might as well be my sister, too, was abducted two weeks ago after a modeling audition.
Maya and I go way back. Tossed around in the foster care system as children, we learned to watch out for each other because no one else would.
I’m doing this for Lucy. For Maya. For me.
For every girl and woman who needs help and has no one.
When Darren Kelly’s eyes suddenly meet mine, an electric shock seizes my lungs. I duck my chin and pivot while an inkling of dread drips down my spine.
I promptly shake that off and hurry for the restroom.
It’s fine, I tell myself. He didn’t actually see me. Even if he did, staff are hardly considered human to these people.
Time to initiate phase two of the plan.
Chapter Two
One hundred and one. One hundred. Ninety-nine.
Counting the flicks of my lighter backward keeps me focused, calm, and my impatience in check.
In another hour, I can bounce.
Sixty minutes of watching two of my best friends dance with their significant others while raucous relatives stuff their faces and guzzle free booze.
