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  “I don’t see how. We’ve monitored everyone who’s entered and exited. Reed’s stepfather is in jail. I don’t see a connection.”

  “You’re right. Of course you are.” Cassidy shook her head. “I don’t know why I can’t believe it’s over. Reed watched them cart the man off in a police cruiser.”

  The urge to share Max’s point of view—that they were all naive to think Tripp Lange wouldn’t find a way to work this entire situation to his advantage—was nearly out of her mouth when she pulled it back.

  Just because Max speculated didn’t mean he was right.

  And despite the fact that they’d collectively spent the last two weeks on high alert over the discovery in their shop didn’t mean it wasn’t time for things to go back to normal.

  The culprit was behind bars, and anyone who’d worked with him was dead.

  It was time to relax.

  * * *

  Alex Ebner, assistant to the man whispered about only as The Duke, settled himself in the front seat of the black limousine. “The women are all there, just as you suggested they would be.”

  “And the men?”

  “Stuck to them, as you also suspected.”

  “You speak of my stepson as well?”

  Alex thought about his casual stroll through the ballroom. “He hasn’t left the baker’s side.”

  “Excellent.”

  Alex waited, as he always did. He was deeply loyal, and he was more than willing to wait as The Duke determined whatever came next. He’d been raised in the old ways, and he took pride in that. Authority. Leadership. Power.

  They had value—they still had value—and he was content to follow his leader.

  Those traits he prized also came with a price. He understood that—had been raised to understand it—and it was his job to stay in the background and ensure the toll never became too taxing.

  In exchange, he was paid handsomely. He had time off. And, most important, his family was cared for in the lap of luxury back in the homeland.

  “What about the coordinator? The sleek one who gives orders?”

  “Hard at work. She just dealt with the little matter in the lobby.”

  “Is she followed?”

  “Baldwin’s grandson stays close to her, but she keeps shaking him off. It’s humorous to watch.”

  “Then she’s the one. Violet Richardson.”

  Alex nodded. “She’s got the least restrictions and moves about as she pleases.”

  He’d gotten close several times and had nearly snagged the woman, but each time she’d managed a swift turn to elude him. Her apartment had proven equally challenging, the elegant home in one of Dallas’s newest high-rise buildings sporting state-of-the-art security and surveillance.

  They’d moved fully underground at this point, and it was no use risking that. His boss had planned well, though. Alex considered the ease with which they were released from jail and the speed with which they’d gone to ground at The Duke’s hidden property.

  The Duke had another name—one well-known in Dallas circles. Tripp Lange was one of the city’s wealthiest men, his riches earned through a combination of hard work and maniacal focus that had moved him from poor immigrant to success.

  But that success had come with a price.

  They’d still not managed to uncover the location of Tripp’s wife, Diana, despite extensive digging. Her son had whisked her away as he closed in on Lange, and no amount of prodding and poking any of Lange’s contacts in the Dallas PD had managed to uncover her whereabouts.

  Tripp wanted the rubies and he wanted his wife back. Violet Richardson and her relationships with the rest of her little wedding troupe were the key to securing both.

  “You’ve checked the egress points. You know where you want to take her.”

  “It’s all prepared.”

  “Then move ahead.”

  * * *

  Max couldn’t shake the sense that something was out of his reach. He knew that sense—and trusted it to the very depths of his being—which was why he kept up a continuous walk of the perimeter of the ballroom.

  The wedding had technically entered its last hour, and he was counting down the minutes to getting them all out of there. He didn’t care if Violet fought him like a she-cat. He was dragging her out the moment they kicked the last guest toward the hotel elevators, or what would likely be a drunken, snaking taxi line. She could come back in the morning and manage any required follow-up.

  Things always looked better in daylight.

  Which was a fallacy, he well knew. He’d spent many an op during his time in the Army Corps of Engineers in broad daylight and an equal number in those silent hours after midnight. Both could do irreparable damage.

  He passed the open ballroom doors, his gaze alighting on the bar, still two and three deep with wedding guests. The image of the guy on the couch nagged at him, and Max headed for the harried row of bartenders still mixing drinks.

  A manager he’d noted earlier had added to his duties by bar-backing, and he’d just arrived with two fresh bottles of liquid courage. Max waited until the man logged the liquor before waving him over.

  “Hey man, I know you’re busy. I need to ask you something.”

  “You’re with the planners, right?” The guy offered a tired smile before he stuck out his hand. “Zach Turner. We do a heck of a lot of events with Elegance and Lace, and they run a smooth party.”

  “A rather wild one, if the fact your bartenders haven’t stopped serving is any indication.”

  Zach tossed a smile over his shoulder. “Wild, yes. Great tips, an even bigger yes.”

  “Did you notice the man out here earlier? Older than the frat boys in the wedding party but not an old relative, if you know what I mean?”

  “Elegant guy? Sort of blended in if you didn’t look too hard.” Zach snapped his fingers. “Saw him on the couch over there just before that brawl lit up.”

  “That’s the one.”

  Max waited another few beats, curious to see if the man made the same connections he had before he inadvertently led the witness.

  “Odd guy. He mingled for a bit, talking up the wedding party. I kept an eye on him for a while, not sure if he was hitting on the crowd or trying to pick a few pockets.”

  At what Max could only assume was a wash of shock and surprise on his face, Zach continued. “Oh yeah, it happens way more often than you think. People come to a nice event and no one thinks too much about their wallets and purses. But old Uncle Nicky or crazy Aunt Sally sure as hell do.”

  Max shook his head, the shock fading into that strange sort of acceptance that came with seeing far too much. “People are an endless surprise.”

  “Always. But I’ve been doing this for nearly thirty years. I can usually pick out Cousin Sticky Fingers at twenty paces. Guy gave me an odd vibe, but not a sticky one.”

  “What sort of vibe did he give you?”

  Zach’s dark gaze narrowed before awareness lit him up like a lightning strike. “You concerned the fight had some chemical enhancement?”

  “Yep. No doubt about it. The paramedics didn’t say much, but it was all over the guy’s blown pupils and dead faint to the floor.”

  “Well, hell.” Zach gestured toward the long hallway that extended off the ballroom lobby. “Let me hook you up with house security.”

  * * *

  Violet drifted through her various roles as the wedding wound down. She confirmed with Lilah the top layer of cake was already preserved for the couple’s first anniversary, while the rest of the cake was sliced and individually packaged and waiting for guests to take as they departed. She smiled as the DJ counted off the number of songs left until the big finale, a slow, torchy number that would send the happy couple off on their week-long honeymoon. An
d she got a full update from the caterer on where they stood on a count of the bar bill.

  And silently credited the family’s foresight to go with a flat price per head.

  While she appreciated the hearty flow of liquor would no doubt leave a horde of satisfied partygoers in its wake, she immediately shifted her direction to confirm the taxi line was in place and the staff had all eyes on anyone who shouldn’t have keys in hand.

  A good number of guests had also reserved rooms at the hotel, which went a long way toward assuaging her concern, but there was still margin for error. Many guests had driven, and they needed a sober driver to make it home.

  “This one was a humdinger, Miss Richardson,” the hotel’s doorman boomed at her when she passed, his smile as bright as when she’d walked in at noon.

  “That it was, Carl. You keeping an eye on the departures for me?”

  “Always. Boss added two extra pairs of eyes on valet, too.”

  “Good.”

  She kept on toward the exit, the taxi stand housing only two waiting guests who’d obviously decided to skip the rush.

  “It was a wonderful evening,” a tottering woman gushed. “I want my son and his fiancée to call you. Do you have a card?”

  With a rueful smile for the woman’s husband, Violet pulled a card out of her suit jacket pocket. More than half their business came from satisfied guests who wanted a similar event for themselves, and Violet couldn’t stop the spear of pride at a job well done, despite the craziness that had descended on their lives in the past few weeks. “We’d be delighted to discuss your son’s event.”

  The woman’s husband deposited her in a cab as she still hollered about booking an appointment, and Violet could give herself only a moment to watch the proceedings as she waved them off.

  Damn, she loved her job.

  It was crazy and nuts and often stressful, but she loved it. And she knew she’d found a purpose for her life.

  Giggles echoed off the concave ceiling of the porte cochere, and she stepped back to let a tumble of two bridesmaids and three groomsmen hit the taxi line.

  “Fun time, Violet.” One of the bridesmaids, named Macy, tossed a pointed look at a groomsman she’d had her eye on all day before pulling Violet in for a big hug. “Fun time.”

  “Where are you off to?”

  “Uptown for a nightcap.”

  Violet suspected she knew what would come after the nightcap and simply waved them on, pleased they were still smart enough to keep the night going in taxis. The lack of a car now meant they’d need another cab for their return trip, which meant she could relax another notch.

  “Have fun.”

  Macy giggled in her ear, her whisper louder than the woman likely planned. “I mean to.”

  They all piled into a minivan cab and off to whatever came next, and Violet gave herself another moment, surprised at the hard clench that tightened her rib cage. The same melancholy that had come over her inside the wedding while hugging the bride hit her once more, the jab swift.

  Where had those days gone? The carefree ones that didn’t have an overarching tinge of disappointment or the fear time was marching on without her?

  When had thirty begun to feel ancient?

  Shaking off the melancholy, she moved out of the way of another couple as they approached the valet station. One glance at the wife—keys in hand—and Violet knew the woman had played the evening’s designated driver, so she kept moving, determined to leave the policing to the hotel staff. They had as vested an interest as she did in ensuring people left their establishment safely, and she’d leave them to it.

  An empty lobby stared back at her, indicating no one else was yet ready to depart, and she glanced at her watch before mentally calculating the time left until she needed to find the bride and groom and help see them off.

  Figuring she had a good five minutes, she stopped and gave herself one of them.

  Why was she so out of sorts?

  On a hard exhale, she drifted toward the end of the sidewalk that fronted the hotel before it dropped off toward the driveway to the service entrance. She was close enough to help out in a crisis but far enough away to avoid recognition.

  The moment of anonymity was all she needed to get her equilibrium back. Why it had chosen to abandon her during one of the largest events Elegance and Lace had ever put on was a mystery, but she’d worry about that later. For now, she was going to clear her mind, then march back inside and give Kimberly and Jordan an amazing send-off.

  In just a minute.

  The hot August night wrapped around her in a tight stranglehold, and she was tempted to remove her suit jacket. The cool air from the lobby had diffused some of the heat at the taxi line, but this far away from the door it was absolutely stifling.

  A minute was only a minute, though, and she’d already used up half of hers. Stripping was a waste of the time she had left.

  “Ever responsible and practical,” she muttered to herself before compromising and unbuttoning the top button of her blouse.

  The hot air coated her skin and with it, an image of Max filled her thoughts. A place he’d occupied far too often these last weeks.

  Heck, the past year, if she was truly being honest.

  She’d noticed him at the first community business meeting he’d attended in the Design District after opening his architectural firm, Dragon Designs. Since getting to know Max and Tucker better, she’d learned that Tucker had abdicated any interest in playing their firm’s business lead and had been more than willing to hand the role over to Max.

  Which had put Max and Violet firmly in each other’s orbit.

  Even without the pressure of Cassidy and Lilah’s ongoing interest in seeing the two of them get together, Violet could admit that Max did manage to push all her buttons. He was strong and solid. And if she were honest with herself, she liked that he was a bit surly. The man wasn’t a pushover, and it was a trait she admired.

  Maybe if they hadn’t gotten involved in the mystery of the jewels under the floor, and maybe if her best friend wasn’t marrying his best friend, things could be different.

  A fling, maybe?

  Thirty, remember? That small voice that kept her constant company rose up. Call it what it is. An affair.

  Violet turned the thought over in her mind. Like sophisticated women had been doing since the dawn of time, she could manage her life and this crazy attraction through a discreet affair in which both knew the score. No pressure for a happy-ever-after or expectations neither had any interest in fulfilling.

  She’d scratch the itch and move on.

  It would be perfect if it weren’t for the fact that her two best friends were also her daily colleagues. To say each of them missed nothing about the other two was an understatement. Lilah and Cassidy saw everything.

  As she did with them.

  Which took her right back to square one. Nothing could come of this odd little spark for Max.

  The heavy tread of feet interrupted her musings and she shifted her attention, mentally sighing that her minute was gone. It was time to get back to the wedding.

  Her gaze caught on a man moving with swift determination up the sidewalk. An odd spark of recognition lit in her gut. Was he a wedding guest?

  Or had she seen him somewhere else?

  It was only as he closed in on her, his large hands wrapping around her shoulders, that she registered the depth of the threat.

  And as a sharp prick hit her neck, she watched the bright lights of Dallas blur before the black took her over.

  Chapter 3

  Max scanned the various screens inside the security center before settling in with the computer operator, Jake. The man had seemed to light up with the unexpected excitement as he asked, “Do you know the rough time and what part of the ho
tel?”

  “The lobby cameras pointed around the bar. Around ten o’clock.”

  The man made quick work of the request, his fingers flying over the keyboard at his station before he pointed toward an even larger screen in his sight line. “I’ll put the footage up here.”

  Max saw the lobby still filled with revelers getting drinks and zeroed in on the couch. “There. He was on that couch for some time.”

  Jake scrolled several frames forward, the clock ticking off the time in the lower right-hand corner, before Max stopped him. “That’s him.”

  The screen expanded as Jake enlarged the image. Max nodded as the strange man’s face came into view. “Now we need to see if he was mingling with the guests who were fighting.”

  Jake nodded, his focus absolute as he scrolled through earlier footage, the clack of the keys the only noise in the room. Max watched him work before his own focus shifted, his normal inability to sit still taking over.

  He paced the wall of screens, taking in various views. Two of the wedding guests were getting amorous in one of the hotel elevators, while another couple in a different elevator was clearly in the midst of a heated—and likely liquor-fueled—fight. Since both couples deserved their privacy, he continued to scan the wall, the image of the bride and groom and their assembled guests filling several more screens, displayed from different angles.

  Before the notion even fully registered, Max found himself searching for Violet.

  Where was she? He’d have assumed she’d be smack in the middle of whatever was happening with the bride and groom, but another glance through all the ballroom screens showed no sign of her. Cassidy and Lilah both stood on point, and he saw Tucker and Reed not far behind them, but Violet was nowhere.

  “Jake—” He broke off as he caught sight of the exterior cameras. Panic washed like icy needles over his skin.

  “What?”

  The man’s eyes widened as Max moved toward his chair, his large form hovering over the tech. “Pull it up. The driveway camera. Now.”