Page 141 of Ricochet

“Children wash up on shores and babies float onto beaches because their families are fleeing war-torn countries. Cities are being decimated by bombings. Every day this happens, and unless a famous reporter catches a heartbreaking picture that goes viral, it’s not discusses. There are relief campsthat don’t have enough food and water to feed the people they’re trying to save. There are political leaders have given their military forces permission to rape their own people in order to establish compliance. I am bringing these women to a civilized country with first-world amenities.” Gloria’s lips flattened together. “You may not agree with how I make money, but they are safer than they were.”

Tears streamed down Adelia’s face. “You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can. People treat their property better than governments help their people. I would rather sell a thousand woman as a sex slave, knowing they will be kept fed and alive, than know they will watch their babies suffocate during chemical warfare, their children die from preventable diseases, their mothers bleed out from gang rapes asthey starve to death praying for relief.” She jabbed her finger. “I am the relief.”

This woman, the humanitarian of the decade, believed herself to be an untouchable Robin Hood. “Maybe what you say is true. I was trafficked to a better life, and I’m standing with Gloria Astor, the humanitarian of the decade.”

“A title I have rightly earned,” Gloria said, all but signing her name onto Adelia’srecording. “Now, please excuse me. I’d like to get back to my dinner.”

The salad plates were being cleared, and Gloria turned back toward the raised head table, summiting the three steps. Adelia couldn’t tear her eyes away from the monster. She didn’t know what to do with what she’d heard, but her heart ached on another level now.

Gloria lifted her arm slightly, and a large man rose from around table directly in front of Gloria’s seat.

“Oh, shit.” That looked an awful lot like a private bodyguard.

He moved quickly across the front of the room, though not fast enough to alarm anyone. Adelia spun for the door Gloria had first mentioned. It opened easily into a dimly lit hallway, and she looked both ways.

Shit, again. This was a fake hall, made by dividers, between ballrooms.She bolted left, falling back on another life lesson from Tex: when in doubt, go left because everyone goes right.

Another hallway made of fake walls… Where the hell was the exit to the bathrooms? The labyrinth of walls finally spit her out to a private sitting area with sofas and a row of doors. One was marked restrooms and another for the staircase.

She took the stairs and flew down them,taking as many at a time as she could. Three floors down and she stopped on the landing, listening.

Nothing.

She spun around and checked for security cameras. She saw none. Carefully, Adelia pulled the voice recorder from between her breasts and held it to her lips. “If I can’t share this with you, Colin, I love you. Thanks for teaching me to go after what I want—after I figure out what it reallyis.”

She pressed her hand to her forehead.

“And, Javier, I never thought I’d have my brother back. The best advice you ever gave me was run, and I hope you know how much you’ve always meant to me. Love you.”

She clicked off the recorder and opened the glass casing for a fire hose, praying it wouldn’t set off an alarm. None sounded. She slipped her evidence against Gloria Astor inconspicuouslybehind the thick rope, shut the door, and wiped away where she could have left a fingerprint.

Slowly, she continued down the steps as she unbuttoned the oversized server’s top and pants, undressing as she went and folding her clothes into her arms. At the lobby level, with her hair and makeup disguise still in place, Adelia nervously opened the door to the fancy hotel and slipped through, certainDelta would be on the other side, but no one was there.

The scene was like a normal hotel. There was a mix of people who stayed on site and onlookers milling for the for the event. It was a combination of reporters and celebrity hounds.

More than once, Mayhem had been present at a hoity-toity wedding simply because they were at the right place at the right time. She, Seven, and Victoria hadwatched beautiful dresses and fancy extravaganzas from afar. Tonight wasn’t any different. All she needed to remember was what she learned earlier this evening and that she hadn’t done anything wrong, or at least not enough to have security called to the lobby to find her. Right? Either way, she had to do two more things.

Faking confidence, she walked to the concierge desk. A well-dressed manhad enough manners not to eyeball her well-worn clothes and odd hair-and-makeup combo as he greeted her with a professional smile.

“Good evening, ma’am. How may I help you?”

“I need to leave a note for my—” What should she call Colin—friend, boyfriend, person she recorded a dying message to in case they were her last words? That seemed a little dramatic. “Boyfriend.” Safest option of her possibilities.“His company has a table at the event tonight, but his cell phone died.”

She wanted to tack on an excuse for why she looked like she had been on the lam for days, maybe something about her car breaking down. Adelia decided that owning horses would be relatable to the rich and famous, and she could say she had been working with a pony. But that sounded ridiculous in her head and decided thatless talking was better in this situation.

As she fumbled to bite her own tongue and keep from making absurd stories to explain her appearance, the man said, “Certainly.”

She blinked, dumbfounded. That was easy. He handed her thick cardstock paper and an envelope that was just as nice, along with a heavy metal pen.

“Would you like to have a seat?” He extended his hand to a small side tableand the couch near his desk with the coverage of a plant and desk lamp.

She hadn’t expected the conversation to be easy, and his manners were throwing her for a loop. “Thanks. This is one of those notes where I feel like every word might be my last.”

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