Chapter Twenty-Seven

Allen

When we reach the hotel and take our place in line for valet parking, I insert my earpiece and check in with my team.

“Roll call. Everyone in place?” I murmur as Braeden, already completely in character as one of the attendants, strides toward the Caravan.

Five quiet rounds of affirmative plus a subtle nod from Braeden have me taking a deep breath and looking over at Brielle.

“Ready, darling?”

She shoots me a nervous look. “As I will ever be.”

I step out of the vehicle to greet Braeden like I would a stranger, then swiftly move around to assist Brielle from her seat.

I tuck her arm into mine and can feel her trembling slightly as we quickly walk into the lobby, then turn left down the long hallway toward the Atrium.

“Listen to me,” I murmur. “You don’t have to do this. If at any time you change your mind, tell me, and we can go. My team will catch him, Brielle.”

“No,” she says quietly after a long pause. “I’m who he is here for. If I disappear, he will get suspicious, maybe bolt. This needs to end tonight.”

We step through the first set of open double doors, and I witness Brielle’s transformation from nervous target to self-confident career woman happen in an instant, like she has flipped a switch. She takes me around the room, the epitome of self-assured grace, and introduces me to some of her colleagues.

At seven-thirty, a delicate chime sounds, and people begin to look for their place cards to take their seats around the thirty eight-person tables placed strategically around the space. I notice that the table we have been assigned to lines up precisely with the patio doors – and that Brielle’s assigned seat is directly in the line of sight out to the little island.

What are the odds of that? I think to myself sarcastically as I subtly switch place cards to put her in the seat to my right so that I am between her and the doors.

That accomplished, I pull out and hold her chair for her, then take my seat. Our attention shifts toward the west end of the rectangular room, where a small riser and microphone stand have been set up, and where a tall, slender man with salt-and-pepper hair addresses the crowd.

“Good evening everyone, nice to see you all here,” he begins. “Welcome to the annual banquet of the Realtors’ Association.”

Brielle

While I do not think it is obvious to any of our table’s occupants but me, I can tell by the way Allen’s body is angled that he is determined to remain a human shield for me.

I cut my eyes to his, but the tiny shake of his head tells me all I need to know – his senses are heightened based on the seating arrangement we stumbled into.

Of all the tables in the room, I try to tell him with my eyes.

I know. I’ve got this, is the reassuring sentiment I see when he holds my gaze, then squeezes my shoulder lightly.

With effort, I return my focus to the others at the table – Anne and her husband Benji, Lydia and her wife Sue, and another couple that I have never met.

“Hi, we’re Dan and Matha Elkins,” the woman says to me with a smile. “Originally from northern Utah. We relocated down here about a year ago.”

“Hello and welcome,” I find myself saying, and am glad that my tightly strung nerves are not overtaking my voice. “I hear Utah is beautiful.”

“It is,” Dan chimes in, “except for when blizzard season is underway. We like it much better down here.”

With each passing moment I relax a bit more, and when the first course arrives, a wonderful-smelling Italian wedding soup, I beam at Marlon, who sets the bowl down in front of me with a flourish.

At one point, I glance to my right and notice Anne is watching both Allen and me. She subtly raises an eyebrow at me.

“Would you excuse me, please, I’ll be right back,” she says, and the look on her face I interpret as an invitation to join her.

Allen stands when we do, as do the other men at the table, and I can feel his eyes on me as I follow Anne out of the Atrium and toward the ladies’ room.

***

The moment we step inside the bathroom, she turns to me, her brown eyes dark with worry.

“Something’s up, I can tell. Why did your date switch the place cards?”

I falter. “Because we think there’s going to be trouble tonight.”

She taps her index finger against her bottom lip as I tell her about the countdown in blood red on my home computer.

“With everything that you have been going through, I can imagine being seated in line with the door liked that freaked you out. I am so glad we are at the same table, Brielle. I have my gun with me tonight, and so does Benji. You have our full support should anything happen, okay?”

I sigh in relief. “Thanks, Anne. That means a lot.”

“You are most welcome. Now, tell me about the hottie you brought with you. You two look great together, young lady. How did you meet?”

***

When we return to the table Allen leans over and whispers, “Everything all right?”

“We have backup here, if we need it,” I murmur into his ear.

He glances at Benji and Anne, who both give him an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement.

Allen

The dinner plates are cleared away and the waiters, including a smiling, polite Marlon, begin to serve coffee and dessert.I have just added sugar to my cup when Sam’s voice comes through my earpiece in a faint but solemn whisper.

Target acquired. Wait one.

I glance at Marlon, standing across the table from me behind Anne, and his smile faltering for a split second lets me know he heard Sam’s message as well.

Not much longer now, I think, and lean back slightly, mindful to keep myself positioned between the woman I love and the assailant that at this very moment is probably sighting in to try and kill her.

A brief swell of a breeze comes my direction from my left as a few banquet guests wander out onto the patio for an after-dinner smoke and leave the door propped open. Time seems to stand still for a moment, and I hold my breath as I notice a flurry of motion to my right.

I glance over and am horrified to see Brielle leaning forward to talk to the Elkins couple, and a green dot, shimmering at first, then becoming steady as it marks her skin just above where the necklace rests at the base of her throat.

Marlon has seen it as well, because his dashing around the table to tackle Brielle to the floor and shield her with his body is what caught my attention.

I rise from my chair with a bellow, pivoting to face the direction of the threat and leaning forward into the laser sight’s beam as far as I can, and feel a red-hot burning trail in my flesh as the round meant for Brielle hits me full force - just past the edge of the bulletproof vest that I am wearing.

I got him, boss, I hear Sam say in my ear, and I nod weakly, the blood dripping down my arm turning the ivory tablecloth red as I try to push up, get to Brielle as screams of chaos echo throughout the room.

The hands that guide me down to the floor are firm but gentle.

“Hold still, Allen,” Anne says, patting my hand as Marlon removes my tuxedo jacket and shirt. I hear a ripping sound and see Benji tearing strips of tablecloth with his pocketknife to pack both sides of the wound to try and slow the bleeding. “Paramedics are on the way.”

I try to speak but cannot get words to form. As shock floods my system, my vision constricts, and when I look up again all I can see are the green eyes I adore, filled with tears.

“Don’t leave me,” Brielle pleads, but her words sound faint, distant, like I am underwater. I want to hold her, comfort her, but I am suddenly tired.

So tired.

Darkness takes me before I can tell her I love her.