Leese nearly lurched out of his chair. “What?”
With a casual shrug, Sahara said, “He is—or rather was—a preferred client. It’s well-known that Body Armor provided security during speaking engagements and special appearances. He’s endorsed the agency with other important clients.” She glanced at Cat. “Of course, that was before I knew of his proclivity for rape, violence and murder. Now that I do know, I need to destroy him.”
Churning with fury that hadn’t really died from the day before, Leese demanded, “By using Cat as bait?”
“How else? And while nothing is without risk, I do have several ways to ensure her safety.”
Done with the discussion, Leese said a flat, “No.”
“It’s not up to you,” Sahara told him, and her gaze again shifted to Cat. Gently, she said, “Don’t you want to end this? Once and for all?”
Cat drew a slow, shaky breath, and nodded. “Yes. Very much.”
“I can help you with that.”
“I said no,” Leese repeated, the fury escalating with each second.
Pretending he wasn’t out of control, Sahara said, “That dress we got for Catalina? I have one that matches. If we both wear our hair up, and her heels are high enough, we could be mistaken for each other.”
“You look nothing alike,” Leese argued.
“Believe me, two society women attending the same party would never be caught in the same dress. The dress alone will be enough to cause confusion. But from a distance, in dim light, we’ll be able to pull it off.”
Slowly, Justice sat up straighter. “So you’re the actual bait?”
She flapped a hand. “We need the villains to see Catalina joining the party. Once she’s inside though, we’ll tuck her away safely and I’ll wait—all isolated and alone at a chosen location in the agency—for someone to make a grab for me.”
“Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” Justice growled.
“It’s insane,” Leese agreed.
She continued without worry. “And once they do, you two can grab them. At the same time, we’ll keep tabs on Platt without him knowing. He’ll likely be trying to leave once he thinks Catalina is secured, and we can follow him and—”
Leese threw up his hands. “That’s the most idiotic, reckless plan I’ve ever heard.”
Sahara slowly stood to face him. “Do you forget that you work for me?”
“You want my resignation?” he challenged. “Fine. Consider it given. But Cat’s not getting anywhere near—”
“I’m going.”
All eyes switched to stare at Cat. She sat with her shoulders back, her chin lifted, and in her gaze Leese saw a sort of fatalistic acceptance.
“No,” Leese growled, “you are not.”
“It’s not your decision to make.”
Without denying or affirming that, he said again, “You’re not going.”
Cat, too, pushed back her chair and stood to face off with him.
Great, just what this situation didn’t need: her stubbornness.
Justice looked around at each of them, sighed and came to his feet. “If anyone cares, I’m voting with Leese on this.”
Sahara slanted him a look. “Learn when to be silent.”
“Sure. But not this morning.”
Knowing Cat wouldn’t care what Justice thought about it, Leese said, “Be reasonable, Cat.”
“I was going to say the same to you.” Full of defiance, she stared up at him. “If this thing is going to work between us, you have to respect me.”
This thing? What the hell did that mean? “Of course I do.”
“Then you should know that I can make up my own mind about things. You have to understand that I can—”
Leese leaned into her space. “You have to understand that I don’t want to lose you.”
She breathed faster, then whispered, “You won’t.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t know it.” He flagged a hand in Sahara’s direction. “Not with her sketchy-as-hell plan that’s riddled with holes.”
Using that as her opening, Sahara said, “And that brings us back to this little powwow around the table. Let’s work through the details, take care of those holes and make the plan as solid as we can.” She touched Leese’s arm. “There’s no better idea and you know it. Not if Catalina is ever going to be free to get on with her life.”
A life with him hopefully in it.
Cat hugged him tight. “It’ll work,” she insisted.
But in her voice he heard the same desperation he felt. She only believed it’d work because it had to.
He couldn’t accept any other outcome.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CAT STOOD IN the spacious conference room of Body Armor and tried to relax. Not easy. More than fifty well-known guests were in attendance, filling the room and spilling out to the main hall and an entry room.
Sahara flitted about, visiting each couple, each area, playing the perfect hostess. Justice, ever vigilant, stayed within reach of her.
But Cat, following the plan, didn’t budge from the conference room.
Neither did Leese—for good reason.
Across the room from her, Senator Platt held court.
Watching him speak with self-assumed importance, hearing him laugh without a care, seeing the way he casually touched others...her skin crawled. The man was a monster, and knowing he pretended otherwise only made hatred burn within her.
Those around him probably saw him as an earnest, caring, gentle soul. They didn’t know the depths of his depravity or how vicious he’d be when his phony disguise was threatened.
Two staid guards flanked him. Being still, deliberately imposing, wearing severe expressions, they had nothing in common with the Body Armor team, who looked friendly and companionable. Powerful, yes. Capable, yes.
But somehow, far more real.
To help build up the ruse, Leese kept his distance from her, but never, not at any moment, was he unaware of her. She knew it, felt it.
Someone bumped her, and Cat, who’d been concentrating on the senator, nearly yelped.
An elderly woman patted her arm, said, “Excuse me,” and moved on past.
A strained breath strangled out of Cat. Good Lord, she was jumpy...and ill at ease. The largest part of her discomfort was due to the senator. But the rest had to do with her general unease at large formal functions.
Despite the beautiful outfit Sahara had provided and the finishing touches given to her hair, nails and makeup, she still felt like a fraud.
Yes, she was as polished as any other woman there, but none of it fit her, not the real her.
Ideally she’d have done her own hair and makeup, but in order to better match Sahara, she’d given in to the professional stylist.
Currently, Sahara wore a red gown.
None of this would have worked if they’d entered the party in the same blue dress. But any minute now Sahara would excuse herself, change into the dress, shoes and jewelry that matched Cat’s, and then they’d wait for a murderer to strike.