The party tonight is being held in what can only be described as a massive mansion. We get into the car and drive over there, and I can’t help eyeing the location as we pull up. It’s gotta be one of the most expensive places in the Detroit area, although it’s well outside the city, sitting proudly on a massive plot of land.
We have to drive through a set of wrought-iron gates that swing open as soon as we approach, and we curve up the driveway with the other cars to the front of the house. Ours is probably the least fancy of the bunch, which is saying something since we’re in a sleek black Lexus. But everyone else is flexing their wealth with what they drive, giving instructions to the valets not to scratch anything. As if they aren’t already well trained.
Everything is glittering and bright, and a valet in white gloves and a red coat with tails immediately comes over to take the car, leaving us to walk up the rest of the way to the house on foot.
There are house staff and event staff everywhere, guiding people up the drive to the open door, spilling light out into the darkness of the night. A pretty redheaded woman with a fake smile and a sparkly dress stands at the door with a tablet, checking names of the people who are lining up to get in.
I give her ours, and she scrolls for a bit before smiling up at me.
“There you are,” she says. “Come right in. Enjoy the night.”
She shoos us into the grand entrance so she can get to the people behind us. She probably has no idea who we are, and in the grand scheme of things, she probably doesn’t give a shit. We’re on the list, and that’s all that matters for her job tonight.
I wonder how ballsy you’d have to be to show up here with no invite and then get turned away. If someone did that, trying to get to Alec Beckham or any of the other high profile guests, they wouldn’t even get through the door before they got turned away. No amount of sweet talking would matter.
To get on that list, we called in a favor from a pretty well connected person in Detroit. It’s something we’ve been sitting on for a while, waiting until we really needed to use it.
To be honest, this wasn’t what we would have planned to use it for. We’d discussed situations that would call for it, that would be worth giving up something as good as that to have in our back pocket. But as far as I’m concerned, this is completely worth it. We’ll be taking out a major player in the city, and River’s vengeance is as good a reason as any. Better than most, even.
We walk through the entry way, and I look around, casing the place. I know my brothers are doing the same thing, and in a place like this, it’s not even suspicious. You don’t have grand mansions like this, unless you want to show off all your shit and your money, and that means you want people to look. And feel jealous that they don’t have what you have. It’s all a game to these kinds of people.
But we’re not checking out the art on the walls or the crystal chandeliers that hang from the vaulted ceilings. Instead, we look for security and check for exits, mentally running through the plans we have for the evening and figuring out the best way to make them work with the space we’re in.
There are security team members dotted through the place, of course. They blend in a little with the crowd of guests already here, but they’re easy to pick out since I know what I’m looking for. And this many rich people in one room need their armed guards to feel safe or whatever. The exits are just as easy to point out, although it’s hard to know where they lead to, since we don’t have a layout of this place.
River is at my side, and she leans in closer to me. “You need to relax your face,” she murmurs.
I frown and glance at her. “What?”
“You look like you’re about to knife someone,” she says. “You have resting murder face.”
I crack a small smile at that.
Her sass and quick mouth were things that bothered me about her in the first place, but they’ve become my favorite things about her over time. She’s been through more shit than anyone should ever have to handle, and yet she’s still got a fire inside her.
I never want to let it go out.
31
River
A lot of the guests are here already, and we make our way through the large house. Everything is dripping with too much money, sparkly and shiny and designed to make people look at it and want what the owners have.
But we’re all focused on our task here. Despite me giving Gage shit for looking like he might murder someone, I feel almost as tense as he looked.
Tonight will be the night. Everything has been building toward this moment.
My palms are tingly and my heart rate is a little faster than normal, proof that I’m just anxious to get through this without anything going wrong.
It’s a party, so we mingle among the other guests. A waiter passes by with a tray of champagne flutes, and we all take one, scoping out the crowd.
I take a sip of the champagne, letting the bubbles tickle my nose. Hopefully the alcohol will settle my nerves a bit, but it also gives me something to do with my hands.
There’s no sign of Julian yet, and I frown as I scan the crowd. There are so many people here in their finery, glittering and doing their fake laughs and all, but I don’t see the reason we came here.
He would be impossible to miss, since I feel like my body is honed in on him, just waiting.
“Maybe he’s not coming,” I murmur. “I don’t see him anywhere.”
“Neither do I,” Ash says. “But he’ll be here.”
“How do you know?”
He shrugs. “Like we said, it’s more important than ever for him to come to this, considering he needs these connections more than he did before. He’s going to be clinging to whatever he can, and this is a last chance for him to avoid losing everything.”
I let out a shaky breath, reminding myself again that they’re right. I know they’re right. He won’t let the chance slip through his fingers, so he’ll be here.
The crowd starts to part a bit, and I crane my neck to see what’s happening. A little ways off, there’s a tall, handsome man walking through, and everyone seems to be zoned in on him.
Alec Beckham, the host of the party, has made his appearance, then.
Ash snickers when he catches sight of him, lowering his voice so only the five of us can hear. “Do you know how far Julian would stick his nose up Alec’s ass if he had the chance?” he comments. “All that smug bullshit he talks, but if Alec told him to roll over like a good dog, he’d do it in a second. Lick his boots? No problem.”
Gage snorts, and even Priest cracks a smile at that.
“Why is this guy so important?” I ask them. I’ve heard of him, of course. Everyone in Detroit has heard of Alec Beckham. He’s one of the richest men in the state, if not the richest, so it’s impossible to do anything without at least hearing his name and his business ventures and shit.