Page 87 of The Games We Play

I glance up at him quizzically, and he gives me a reassuring smile. He moves his hand to the small of my back and leads me along the string of couples as we make our way through the quiet house to a back set of stairs.

“Where are we going?” I whisper as our footsteps echo around the stairwell walls. X squeezes my hand as if to tell me to be patient. The damp air settles on my skin, and a shiver comes over my body the deeper we get underground. We memorized the floor plans of the house above us. There was nothing in them about a basement.

The stairs level out into a hallway lit by sconces, and I question the decorating decisions of this place. It looks like a hallway leading to a medieval torture chamber.

What’s worse is it feels like we’re being funneled into a trap.

Eventually, we step into a large open room with a vaulted ceiling and a live orchestra playing on a spinning stage in the center. Support columns are evenly spaced around the edge of the floor, where people dance and mingle.

“Madam.” A waiter with a champagne tray offers me a drink. I grab a flute and have it to my lips before X plucks it from my hand and sets it aside.

“Not while we’re hunting. We can’t afford to have our senses dulled.” He lifts my hand and kisses the back of my fingers before leading me into the sea of people.

The hairs on my neck rise with being exposed like this around so many strangers. I don’t have a mask to hide behind. Anonymity isn’t on my side. As I walk by each person, it feels like they’re reaching out and raking their fingers down my skin. I shrink in closer to X, and my breathing picks up.

“If this is too much—”

“No,” I cut X off before he offers me a way out. “I just—it’s different from the party or going to Brady’s. I’m…me.”

“And you’re the most beautiful and dangerous woman here,” X purrs into my ear. Heat radiates down my spine, and I take his hand. Then we dance. We rock in rhythm with the music, which almost feels…normal. If it weren’t for the gun between my thighs and the knife at my ankle, I wouldn’t know any different.

“Is it always this…quiet?”

“It’s like the calm before the storm.”

With each twirl, X spins me around; I look for a man with a scar down the side of his face. Someone in here is a target that’s being hunted. There’s another gun for hire, and I’m anxious to figure out who it is.

Could it be the man sipping champagne alone, leaning against the column? He has sandy brown short hair and a fancy silver watch on his right wrist. He’s relaxed, with one hand in his pocket. Or could it be the man surrounded by other guests with wandering eyes that shift to his companion’s woman’s ass and chest from time to time? I can’t blame him. The dress does wonders for the dark, complected goddess with braids down her back.

“There he is,” X whispers, and I lean back to follow his gaze past me and to the doors. The man that walks through is bulky but not the overweight type. I’d bet he’s pure muscle under his suit. He turns to smile at someone, and I have to squint to make out the slight distortion through his eyebrow and down his cheek. He brings his champagne up to his lips, and his rings glint in the light. One on his pinky.

I’m embarrassed to admit I wouldn’t have noticed the scar until I got closer. I was expecting something more mangled, like a dark pink line you couldn’t miss. The door from the stairs closes, and one of the staff puts a large wooden beam across it as if you’d see it in a castle.

“Keep tabs on him, but don’t get caught staring. Someone else is hunting here, and we need to find them before they disappear.”

“The door,” I whisper.

“I know.”

I look up at X and try to get a read on what he is thinking. His gaze scans around the room, but he seems relaxed.

I hold my breath with every man who reaches inside his suit or pocket, expecting to see a glint of a weapon or something. X spins me out, and I lose sight of the target. He loses his grip on my hand, and I barely catch myself mid-spin. When I have my feet back under me and steady, I spot X staring into the crowd, his gaze shifting around as he walks over to me and stands protectively at my side.

“What happened?” I ask as I search for Frances.

“Someone bumped into me, but I didn’t see who.”

I raise a brow at X. “Okay?”

He shakes his head and leads us to the edge of the crowd. He pushes me back to the wall and places his hands on either side of my body, caging mein. Leaning in close like he’s kissing my neck, he whispers. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

I slide my hand across his nape and grip the waist of his pants with the other. “You’re probably overthinking because I’m here. You’re worried about me. I’m okay. We’re okay. We’re a team. You’remy husband. And we have a job to do.”

X blows out a breath, and it skates across my skin. “We’re going to have to split up,” he says gravely.

“Like a divorce?” I tease.

He leans back and tips my chin up. “We need to find an exit route. We’re blind down here, and no matter how much I try to do it alone, there isn’t time. Frances could be taken out any second, and we’d miss our mark. The staff has to be getting the hors d’oeuvres and drinks from somewhere. I’ll track Frances. When you find a way out, come back to me.”

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