Chapter 7: The driver

The party preparations consumed the entire household for the final three weeks.

Caterers came and went. Florists transformed the ballroom into something out of a fairy tale. The security team ran drills constantly, preparing for every possible scenario except the one that was actually going to happen.

Daveson volunteered for every extra shift, every additional briefing. He made himself present, visible, reliable. When the head of security asked for someone to personally oversee the final walkthrough, Daveson was the obvious choice.

"You'll be positioned here," the head of security told him, pointing to a spot on the ballroom floor plan. "Primary responsibility is Mrs. Heyden, secondary is her son. In the event of any threat, you shield them first, engage the threat second. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Good. This party is the biggest event of the year for the Heydens. Nothing can go wrong."

Daveson nodded, hiding his anticipation. "Nothing will."

December 15th arrived cold and clear. The estate buzzed with activity from dawn, final preparations being completed, security running last-minute checks, caterers setting up their stations.

Daveson dressed in his formal security attire: black suit, white shirt, discreet earpiece, weapon concealed at his hip. He checked his watch obsessively. Vincent would arrive at exactly 10 PM. That gave Daveson eight hours to ensure everything was in position.

He did one final check of the east service entrance. The camera blind spot was still there, just as he'd mentioned to Lissa. She'd had it "scheduled for repair" but conveniently, the repair hadn't happened yet. Daveson had made sure of that, quietly interfering with the work order.

His escape route for Vincent was clear.

At 7 PM, the first guests began arriving. Society's elite, dressed in glittering finery, air-kissing and making small talk while servers circulated with champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

Daveson took his position near Lissa, who held court at the center of the ballroom like a queen. Leonard stood beside her, looking magnificent in a tailored tuxedo, his yellow hair styled perfectly, his expression politely distant as he greeted guests.

Cold. Remote. Untouchable.

Good. Daveson didn't need him to be anything else.

At 9:30 PM, Lissa made her entrance down the grand staircase. The crowd applauded. A string quartet played. Everything was perfect, elegant, exactly the kind of event that would make headlines tomorrow.

Daveson's heart rate accelerated as 10 PM approached. His hand went to his earpiece, listening to the security chatter. Everything normal. Everything calm.

9:55 PM. Lissa was giving a speech, thanking everyone for coming, laughing at her own jokes.

9:58 PM. Leonard stood slightly behind his mother, his expression bored but proper.

10:00 PM.

The doors to the ballroom burst open.

Vincent Corso strode in, weapon raised, his face twisted in rage that would have looked genuine to anyone who didn't know better. "Lissa Heyden!" he shouted. "This is for everyone you've destroyed!"

Chaos erupted. Guests screamed. Security moved, but Vincent was faster, pushing through the crowd with professional efficiency, the gun tracking Lissa's movement.

Daveson didn't hesitate. He launched himself forward, crossing the distance in seconds, his body a calculated missile. He hit Vincent from the side just as the gun fired, the shot going wild, shattering a chandelier.

They went down hard. Vincent fought back convincingly, throwing elbows and trying to bring the weapon around. Daveson grabbed his wrist, twisted, felt the satisfying crack of bone that was completely genuine because Vincent had insisted on making it look real.

"You son of a bitch," Vincent snarled, playing his part perfectly.

Daveson wrenched the gun away, threw it across the floor, and pinned Vincent with a knee to his spine. "Don't move!"

But Vincent was already moving, using a practiced escape technique that looked desperate to observers. He rolled, kicked out, caught Daveson in the ribs hard enough to make him grunt, and then he was running.

Other security personnel gave chase, but Vincent had the advantage of momentum and preparation. Within seconds, he'd vanished through the service areas, exactly as planned.

Daveson struggled to his feet, breathing hard, adrenaline making his hands shake. Around him, the ballroom was in chaos. Guests huddled together. Security swept the perimeter. And at the center of it all, Lissa Heyden stared at him with wide eyes.

Then Leonard was there, grabbing Daveson's arm with bruising force. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." Daveson's voice came out rough. "Are you? Is your mother?"

Leonard's violet eyes bored into him for a moment, searching. Then he turned to where Lissa stood, surrounded by security. "Mother?"

"I'm unharmed. Thanks to..." Lissa looked at Daveson, and for the first time since he'd met her, she looked genuinely shaken. "Thanks to you."

Daveson straightened, despite the pain in his ribs where Vincent had kicked him. "Just doing my job, ma'am."

"No." Lissa crossed to him, her hands gripping his shoulders. "You saved my life. You didn't hesitate. You put yourself in the line of fire."

"Anyone on my team would have done the same."

"But you did it." Lissa's voice was firm now, the shock receding, replaced by something harder. Something grateful. "I won't forget this, Roarke. Neither will my son."

Leonard was staring at Daveson with an intensity that was different from his usual coldness. Not warm, exactly, but... considering. Evaluating him in a new light.

Perfect.

The police arrived. Statements were taken. The party ended early, guests ushered out while investigators combed the scene. Daveson gave his account multiple times, keeping it simple, factual, professional.

By 2 AM, he was finally allowed to leave. As he headed toward the staff quarters, exhausted and sore, a hand caught his arm.

Leonard.

"A moment," Leonard said, his voice as cold and controlled as ever.

Daveson followed him to a private study. Leonard closed the door, then turned to face him. "That was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid."

"Both, probably."

"You could have been killed."

"That's the job."

Leonard moved closer, and Daveson realized he was searching for something. Cracks in the facade, perhaps. Signs of fear or bravado. "Most people don't react that fast. Most people freeze when someone pulls a gun."

"I'm not most people."

"No." Leonard's eyes narrowed. "You're not. Which raises questions. Where did you train? Who taught you to move like that?"

"Marco's program. Military combatives. Street experience." All true, technically.

"And you chose to work private security because..."

"Because it pays better than most alternatives and I'm good at it."

Leonard studied him for another long moment. Then, surprisingly, he nodded. "You saved my mother's life tonight. Whatever your reasons for being here, whatever your background, that counts for something."

It wasn't warmth. It wasn't friendship. But it was acknowledgment. Respect, even.

It was exactly what Daveson needed.

"Get some rest," Leonard said, moving toward the door. "Tomorrow, we discuss your new position. I want you on my personal detail. Full-time. If someone is coming after my family, I want the man who moves like you watching my back."

"I'd be honored."

Leonard paused at the door, glancing back. "One more thing. That man tonight. You recognized his technique. Professional training. Military or special forces background. Which means this wasn't random. Someone sent him."

Daveson kept his expression carefully neutral. "Yes, sir. That's my assessment as well."

"Then we have a problem. Because if someone wants my mother dead badly enough to hire a professional, they'll try again." Leonard's voice was ice. "And next time, we need to be ready. Next time, I want to know who's coming before they get through the door. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir. I can."

"Good." Leonard opened the door. "Because I'm trusting you now, Roarke. Don't make me regret it."

He left.

Daveson stood alone in the study, his heart pounding. It worked. Every piece had fallen into place exactly as he'd planned.

He'd earned their trust. He'd become indispensable. He'd positioned himself at the very heart of the Heyden family.

Now came the hard part.

Now came the destruction.