“Well, Marcus wasn’t kidding about security,” he said, sliding the words quietly under his breath as he poured a glass of scotch from the self-serve bar that he had no intention of drinking. “I have eyes on two video cameras here in the foyer, two more in each living room, which means there are probably twice as many I don’t see yet.”
Mirror cams and similar garden variety “hidden” surveillance devices were easy enough to spot with a quick glance if you knew what you were looking for. The higher tech stuff…well, that was a whole different ball game. But Kellan had tagged along on enough here-and-there jobs with Devon lately to be able to pick up on the surveillance devices most people couldn’t.
Spinning another slow gaze over the lush settees, the crystal tumblers glinting from the corners of the low, sleek tables, and the men dressed in suits that probably cost more than he earned fighting a month’s worth of fires, Kellan continued in hushed tones. “Between the music and the size of these rooms, general audio’s got to be a no-go, unless this DuPree guy has got access to some high-level tech I haven’t heard of yet.”
“Mmm. Whoever he is, he definitely likes to watch. You see anybody you like as being him?” Moreno leaned in on the guise of nuzzling Kellan’s neck, and he reminded himself—and his dick—that in order to pull this off, they not only had to look like a couple, but they had to be convincing. Especially if someone had the ability to put a visual on them from one of at least six angles.
“Nope. Everyone I’ve got eyes on looks like a guest or a woman.” He channeled his want into a dark smile that would look like a proposition to anyone monitoring the feed from the camera on his left, dropping his mouth just low enough toward Isabella to draw cover on the off chance one of the security staff could read lips. “So how do you want to play this?”
“As quickly as possible without rushing.” Moreno’s glance lingered on the ten scantily clad women in the room, two of whom were on their knees and another two who appeared so strung out, they were barely standing upright on their five-inch heels. Jesus.
Isabella’s breath grew shaky against his skin, but both her expression and her tone betrayed nothing as she continued. “We have to choose the right girl. If we pick someone too skittish, or worse yet, too far gone, she might tell DuPree someone’s sniffing around. That’ll make him more cautious and a lot harder to catch, not to mention burning the only chance we have to get the proof of what’s going on here.”
“Copy that.” Kellan fought the anger starting to churn in his belly, focusing instead on the feel of Isabella’s arm folded closely in the crook of his elbow. “How about the one in the blue dress over there by the piano?”
Moreno led him a handful of steps farther into the main room, perching on the armrest of a richly upholstered wingback chair that gave her a better vantage point to study the blond. “Looks like she’s already got company,” Isabella said, her expression tightening as a dark-haired man with a nasty scar on his forehead walked over to the woman and passed over a syringe before placing a sharp slap on her ass.
Kellan’s fingers curled into fists. Damn it, they couldn’t help these women fast enough. “The redhead at four o’clock looks pretty unsteady on her feet, but we might be able to try our luck with her.”
All at once, Moreno’s body went bowstring tight, her spine unfolding against the gold brocade of the armchair. “That girl,” she whispered, her eyes unmoving. “In the white dress, with the feathers tattooed on her shoulder. She’s the one.”
He waited six painfully long heartbeats before letting his gaze follow hers. The dark-haired woman—Christ, even in her low-cut dress and heavy makeup, she didn’t look more than seventeen—stood by herself by a tall potted palm, clearly trying to use the leafy fronds as cover. Turned in profile, Kellan could see the edges of an intricate tattoo scrolling over the back of her thin, bare shoulder, cascading out of view beneath the strap of her dress. Her lower lip seemed to have found a permanent home between her teeth, giving away her hesitation despite the openness of nearly everyone else in the room.
Of all the women at the party, she looked the most out of place, both scared and comparatively sober. Still, if she was too scared, she’d never talk to them. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Absolutely. That’s her. That’s our girl.”
Isabella looked up at him, her pretty brown eyes brimming with so much certainty that Kellan trusted his gut by trusting hers.
“Okay,” he said. “Do what you need to. I’ll follow your lead.”
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