Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 72308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Grave checked the screen of his phone. “It’s Camille.”
I looked out the window of the car, staring at the building we were about to infiltrate.
“Why the fuck is she calling me right now?” With gritted teeth, he took the call. “I’m kinda in the middle of something right now—”
“I know.” Her voice could be heard in the quiet car. “Cauldron said you guys were going to get some guy tonight.”
Grave waited for her to say something more, but nothing was forthcoming. “So you decided to call me in the middle of it?”
“I just wanted to know your plan.”
“Why?” he barked. “What does it matter to you?”
“Because I don’t want you guys to get killed, maybe?” she snapped. “Can I help?”
“No,” Grave said in a bored voice. “You can’t help, Camille.”
“I’ve learned a couple things with Bartholomew, so maybe I can lend you a hand.”
Grave’s eyebrows furrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“It’s a long story—”
“Camille, I’ve got to go.”
“Wait.” Now her voice softened. “Is Cauldron with you?”
“He’s right next to me.”
Silence.
My eyes stayed on the building, but I could imagine her right next to me, that fear in her bright eyes, a subtle film of moisture that reflected the lights from the dashboard.
“Why?” Grave asked.
“I-I just want you guys to be safe. Be careful.”
“You want to tell him that yourself?” Grave looked at me, the phone held to his ear.
Silence.
She spoke again. “No. Just…please be careful. Let me know when it’s done.” She hung up.
Grave sighed and slipped the phone into his pocket. “Sounds like your plan hasn’t worked too well…”
“Not really. She doesn’t talk to me. And when she does talk to me, she tells me how much she hates me.”
“Fuck, that’s rough.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel.”
“I still think there’s a chance.”
“Yeah?” Grave asked. “Are you just too stubborn to admit defeat?”
I looked out the windshield. “Maybe…”
We snuck in through a window in the back of the building. One of our men on the inside made sure to leave it open the night before. Roan was there to attend some kind of charity event, even though it was no secret that he was very uncharitable.
Low-tier drug dealers were stereotypes, with the baggy clothes and the grizzled looks. You could spot one a mile away, but they were only capable of selling an ounce or a tenth. But big-time drug dealers like Roan, they blended into society’s aristocrats, hid in plain sight, rubbed elbows with government to get what they wanted.
“You have it?” Grave landed on his feet beside me, in a three-piece gray suit.
I checked my pocket. “Yep.”
“Murder by poison. Pretty boring.”
“Roan has a lot of allies. It’s smart to be anonymous.”
“I guess. Still, pussy shit.”
We headed down the hallway and into the party. There were at least five hundred people there, all holding their cocktails and talking near standing tables. The crystal chandeliers were made of gold, and an orchestra played Bach.
“Why do they always play classical music?” Grave asked. “It’s so fucking cliché.”
“You’d prefer Beyoncé?”
“Talk shit about my queen, and I’ll shove that poison down your throat.”
I rolled my eyes. “Let’s focus.”
“You know it’s hard to focus when I’ve got Beyoncé on my mind…”
It was easy to blend into the crowd because there were so many people there. No one glanced at us.
“You see him?” I asked.
“No. It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack.”
“Maybe he’s not here yet,” I said. “We’ll have to wait.”
Forty-five minutes later, Roan finally stepped into the building, a blond woman on his arm.
“Talk about being fashionably late…” Grave said.
“You’ll cause the distraction. I’ll walk by and drop it into his drink. Ready for this?”
Grave surveyed the scene, and his eyes narrowed on a target. “Uh, we’ve got a problem.”
“What?” I followed his eyes until I spotted her.
In a pale-blue dress with a high cut up her thigh, she looked like a princess with the sparkles in the material. Her blond hair had small curls in the strands, and her eyes had blue shadow to match. Her gaze locked on to mine, and as casually as possible, she moved across the room, drawing waves of attention with her.
I nodded to Grave, and we ducked back into the hallway. Otherwise, everyone at the gala would know we were there.
“What’s she doing here?” Grave asked.
“Why are you asking me?”
A moment later, Camille rounded the corner, looking like a goddamn supermodel.
I stared at her for a solid twenty seconds, unable to get my head out of the gutter and back in the game.
When Grave realized I was compromised, he took over. “What are you doing?”
“I called Bartholomew.” She was careful not to look at me, back to her typical coldness. “He told me about the plan.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Grave snapped. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve helped him with this sort of thing before, and I thought I could help you. I’m nobody, so a fake name can get me far. He, or anyone else, sees either of you, game over.” She finally looked at me, but the stare was brief before it shifted away again.