Page 129 of Tate
Tate’s feet lifted off the ground.
No way, pal. Because he’d made promises to Glo.
He sent his palm into Plunkett’s jaw, and the man’s head jerked back. Then Tate jerked his knee into Plunkett’s abdomen and dropped.
Plunkett rebounded. Lunged, and his own momentum sent him over the edge.
But not before he hooked Tate around the shoulder.
Tate followed Plunkett over the edge.
Ford made it to the roof just in time to see Tate go over.
“Tate!”
He plowed over a chair, ran across an outdoor sofa, and reached the edge of the terrace.
Tate dangled by one arm.
Ford wanted to weep.
He leaned over the edge and grabbed Tate’s belt. Hauled him up and over the edge. Instead, “You okay?”
Tate dropped in a heap, breathing hard, and Ford slid down beside him. “Now I am.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure if he wanted to jump or not, but—” Tate lifted a hand as if to say,Survey the handiwork. He leaned his head back against the edge. “I can’t look. Is he?—?”
“He missed the pool and landed on the concrete. There’s some screaming going on.”
Tate ran his hand—shaking, Ford noticed—across his head and pushed to his feet.
“Sorry, bro. I should have been here sooner. They locked all the stairwell doors when Scarlett alerted security to the threat. I had to get them to open one. Did he say anything?Isthere a threat?”
Tate headed toward the door. “I don’t know. Said something crazy about Jackson’s involvement in Russia, but I’m guessing it’s part of their conspiracy agenda?—”
“And the bomb?” Ford ran after him.
“He said it was too late. The lies already starting?—”
“The microphone. He changed out the mic!”
Tate wore horror in his eyes.
Ford directed him toward the other stairwell.
Music spooled out from the ballroom, something country. Scarlett spotted them from where she stood outside the doors, her heels off, and ran over. “Did you get him?”
“Tate did. Sorta.” Ford liked how she was grabbing his jacket, like she might be worried for him. “He’s dead.”
Tate was charging toward the door. Ford grabbed his arm. “Stop. Listen. We need to evacuate everyone without a panic.And we don’t even know that there is anything wrong with the mic?—”
“What’s with the mic?” Scarlett said.
Tate rounded on her. “What did she say?” He looked at Ford. “Did Sloan propose?”
Scarlett nodded.
