Judas. The betrayer. That’s how he would be seen, and he could deal with it. He just had to remember that the rewards were worth it. He had to keep the rewards in sight. Otherwise, the secrets would kill him.
Twenty-four
THE ANDOVER BALL WAS IN full swing when the limo passed through the heavy gates of the Alabama plantation. Ivy-draped trees lined the drive that circled around the front of the house and heavy shadows flickered among the landscaping lights positioned around the grounds.
The house itself was brightly lit, with guests lingering outside as well as around the grounds. The band positioned in the gardens behind the house could be heard from the front; the subtle jazz-influenced tunes were at once soothing and darkly sensual as they filtered through the night.
Many of the guests stood on the wide front landing where the double doors were thrown open; subtle shaded lighting cast a golden glow on the front lawn, giving the milling guests an ethereal look.
Ball gowns mingled with sheaths and ultrashort designer dresses. The men wore tuxedos, and many were
in uniform, though Kell and Ian had opted to wear dress suits instead. It was easier to hide the hardware, Kell had told her.
Beneath her bronze silk dress and stiff petticoat, Emily wore her thigh holster and weapon, though she had opted to leave the dagger in her drawer because the petticoats kept snagging on the wood handle.
Nerves fluttered in her stomach as the limo came to a smooth stop and she inhaled roughly to draw in courage.
Macey had received another message from Judas late the night before, informing him that all parties would definitely be in place and the attempt to kidnap her was proceeding as planned.
“Stay close, love,” Kell muttered as the Secret Service chauffeur came around the limo to open her door. “We have you covered.”
Emily nodded jerkily.
“Remember to stay close to me. I want you covered at all times. If you have to go to the ladies’ room, Kira will go with you. Ian and I will stay close to the doors in that event. Reno and the others are close by and will stay in close proximity to us.”
Emily gripped her small purse as she stared back at him, drawing strength from him. “We’re just going to enjoy the party.” He kept his voice calm, the steady timbre easing her nerves. “Ready?”
She nodded quickly.
Below her dress, low on her back, was a small circular piece of skin-toned tape that he called a skin tag. Just in case they were separated, he told her. He had taken every precaution to protect her, yet an awareness of the danger enfolding her did nothing to comfort her.
Emily inhaled deeply as the limo door opened. Kell stepped out first, then extended his hand inside to her.
Emily moved from the limo, keeping her head up as heads turned and she recognized more of the faces than not. She knew these people. She had gone over the guest list with Kell and Ian, and realized that most of the names listed, she had known most of her life. She couldn’t believe that one of them could be a killer or a spy, or God forbid, an international terrorist. No, the elusive Mr. White and his terrorist counterpart Sorrell had to be crashing the party. Which would be too easy to do with this crowd.
Gripping Kell’s arm, she followed him up the wide steps to the landing and entered the spacious marble foyer. Chandeliers glowed with brilliant light overhead, crystal prisms storing and reflecting the glow back tenfold, increasing her feeling of vulnerability. Anyone, everyone could see her.
“Miss Emily Stanton and Mr. Kellian Krieger,” the doorman announced loudly as they entered and Kell handed him their invitation.
Great. No way to sneak in here.
“Emily. Kell.” Their host and hostess, Markwell and Catherine Andover, were in their forties. Markwell was nearly six feet, with calm brown eyes and thinning brown hair. His wife, Catherine, stood a few inches shorter in her heels and had short red hair and cool light blue eyes. Emily had never cared much for Catherine, but the Andovers had contributed heavily to her father’s election fund and they were influential within the political and financial circles her father frequented.
“Markwell.” Emily accepted his kiss on her cheek as she held back an instinctive dislike of him. He was a shark, and took every opportunity to touch where he shouldn’t.
This time, though, he kept his hands at her shoulders before moving back and shaking Kell’s hand.
“Catherine.” No problems here. The other woman air-kissed her cheek with enough distance to assure Emily that the other woman thought as much of her as she thought of Catherine.
“It’s so nice to see you, Emily,” Catherine drawled. “You missed our last few parties. We worried the kidnapping had adversely affected you.”
And how the hell was it supposed to affect her?
Emily smiled coolly. “I’ve just been busy, Catherine,” she assured her.
“Ah yes, school is out and you dabble in writing, don’t you, dear?”
Emily kept her smile pasted on her face. “Or something,” she agreed.