Fighting (22 page)

Ethan
turned to me and said, "I'll get us a drink."

He
left me standing alone and I surveyed the room.  There were already quite a few
people scattered along the length of the bar, so he was going to have to wait a
few minutes to be served.  A man at least twenty years older than Brooks
approached me in the meantime and gave me a little bow, which made me want to
laugh.

"A
lady should never be left alone in a ballroom without a dance partner," he
said.

I
glanced at Ethan, who was still waiting at the bar, and said politely, "My
dance partner has left to get me a drink."

"Ah
yes, the bar."  He snickered and stage whispered, "It's open, you
know.  The bar!  Free drinks."

How
many flutes did this guy have to shotgun to get this hammered?

I
humored him with polite laughter and said, "How nice."

The
moment the man laid a hand on my shoulder, Ethan was there.  He lifted the
guy's hand off of me pointedly and then looked at me.  "Babe."

I
turned to him and said, "Let's dance."

"I
don't --" he started to say.

"I
don't, either," I said.

I
lifted his hand with mine and placed my other hand on his shoulder.  He glared
at me mutinously briefly before he put his hand on my waist and danced me away
from the drunkard.  As soon as we were out of sight, Ethan stood stock still
and stared at me expectantly.

"You
dance like you fight," I said, stepping away from him.

He
released me and narrowed his eyes.  "Are you trying to tell me that I
twirl too much when I fight?"

"Yes,
Ethan," I laughed.  "You need to cut down on the twirly bits.  Too
flashy."

"My
name is James, and you know what I'm waiting for," he hinted.

"I'm
not apologizing, Jimmy.  At least I let you lead."

We
floated around the room, appearing to mingle but not actually talking with
anyone other than our crew through our ear buds.  I noticed how polished
everything was, and pictured Spencer on the cleanup crew.  He and August came a
few days in advance to canvas the house and take measures against the alarm and
camera systems.  There were no cameras, surprisingly, and the alarm wasn't
state of the art.

"I
left our drinks at the bar to get rid of your first suitor of the evening. 
I'll go pick them up," Ethan said some time later.

My
eyes swept the room.  "Where are you, Brooks?" I asked.

"Outside
patio, keeping an eye on Vasquez."

I
observed the people around me, taking in the room, and noticed a man leaning
against a statue in the corner.  He was handsome, with a slick hair style circa
the nineteen fifties, and a certain sophisticated air about him.  He was
dressed in a smart tux with a drink in his hand and his eyes on me.  He had a
classic, old fashioned look to him and it worked for him in a big way.  He
finished off his drink and placed it on a passing waiter's tray as he left his
corner and walked toward me.

Definitely
not quivering with fear.

"I
noticed your date barely danced with you," he said.  "Beautiful woman
like yourself should choose her dates more wisely."

"Hey,"
Ethan protested in my ear.  He was still at the bar and I glanced in his
direction.

I
laughed softly.  "He's more the type to watch than participate."

"That's
just not true," Ethan muttered.

"Some
men like to watch," the man said with a pulse of lust in his voice.  He
skimmed his eyes over the length of my dress and back up.  "Some like to
touch."

Smooth
criminal. 

He
offered his hand courteously.  "Would you like to dance?"

"I'm
not the type of woman to show up with one man and dance with another," I
said lightly.

He
looked pointedly at his hand and said, "Nigel.  Maybe you should
upgrade."

This
guy was handsome, but he wasn't an upgrade from Ethan.  No way in hell.

I
gave him a sly smile that matched his persona and placed my hand in his, which
he took as an invitation to take a step closer. 

"Lucy,"
I said. 

"Lex,"
Ethan cautioned through my ear bud.

I
withdrew my hand from his and looked Nigel square in the eye.

"You're
assuming that I don't like it when he watches," I said suggestively,
maintaining my smile and light, cordial tone of voice.  "He practically
sets me on fire just watching me from across the room.  When he does touch me
in private, he tends to get a . . .
strong
reaction out of me, every
single time.  I'm sure you're nice, but I don't want nice.  I want
him
. 
If I upgraded, I'd lose even more sleep." 

He
was frozen to the spot, as if he hadn't anticipated being flat-out rejected or
me being so straightforward about it.  I looked at Ethan, who had a palm to the
bar and was watching our exchange with intense concentration, backing up my
story even if he wasn't meaning to.  My pulse accelerated and I couldn't move
if I wanted to.

With
my eyes on Ethan's, I amended, "On second thought, there is no
upgrade." 

The
instant I said the word
upgrade
, Ethan pushed off the bar and sauntered
toward me.  He got in close and didn't hesitate to slide a confident hand
around my bare shoulder blades and down to rest at the small of my back,
eliciting a wave of heat to flash through my body.  I didn't lie about me
reacting strongly to him.  Actually, I didn't lie about
any
of it.  I
just embellished on the intimacy part. 

My
reaction was even more intense than usual after I gave that nifty little speech
about him touching me, and then actually having him touch me.  It felt like a
promise, but I knew it was just for our cover, so I mentally shook my head to
clear it.  His eyes never left mine throughout this entire exchange, and they
were still hard on mine when Nigel piped up.

"If
you'll excuse me," Nigel said, his stiff posture betraying how
uncomfortable he was.

"Whoa,"
Brooks said through my ear bud.  "That was kind of sexy and you're . . .
like my . . . "

"Niece,"
I suggested, breaking my heated stare with Ethan and resisting the urge to fan
myself like I was a lady at a real ball in the eighteen hundreds.

"Twice
removed.  That was weird to overhear," he said, sounding a bit spooked.

"I
was in the moment," I said.

"Ready?"
Ethan asked, not commenting on Nigel at all.

Following
his lead, I glanced around the room and watched Nigel approach three women
huddled near the dance floor.  Dude had already found new prey.  Damn player.

"Very,"
I said.

Walking
like we had permission to leave, he led me to a door that opened up to a
hallway and out of the party atmosphere.  We walked down the empty hallway and
entered a walk in closet.  I turned around and pressed my hands to my chest as
he unzipped my dress.  It fell open in the back and when he didn't move, I
twisted my neck to look at him.

"Turn
around," I whispered.

He
turned and I let the dress fall to the ground.  I was already wearing black
skintight leggings that stopped a few inches above my ankles and my black
strapless bra.  I checked my knife sheath that was strapped to my thigh and
then turned to grab my black clutch that he was holding out to me behind his
back.  Inside, I had tucked a black long sleeved shirt and a pair of black
ballet slippers.  I put both on and he turned back around to hand me a pair of
black gloves from his jacket pocket.  I picked up my dress off the floor and
laid it across his forearms. 

He
stashed my dress on an empty shelf and stacked his suit jacket on top of it.  He
donned his own set of gloves and knelt down to remove the screws from the
ventilation shaft grid.  We crawled through it until we came to the end of a
hallway.  It opened up right at a caged elevator that looked like it was made
in the early nineteen hundreds.  It was black and beautiful and completely
deserted.  We rode up to the third floor and stepped off, walking straight to
Vasquez's personal library. 

I
put a knee to the floor and popped the lock on the door.  It swung open and I
stood up as we both looked inside.  There it was, on a pedestal in his private
library, a statue of a dancing man.

Now
for the hard part.

"We're
in," I whispered.

"Vasquez
had an alarm installed years ago and since he's never had any problems with it,
he hasn't had it updated yet, so there are no fancy lasers, heat or motion
sensors.  He has pets that wander through the house, so he didn't want motion
or infrared sensors because of too much furniture and too many false alarms. 
He had pressure floor sensors installed in the two rooms he wanted most secure;
his library and his bedroom.  This place is ancient, and the system isn't on a
network I could hack with a computer, so I couldn't turn them off.  You're
going to have to get to the statue without touching the floor."

"Right,"
I whispered.  "So basically, the floor is lava."

"Basically,
only this lava has an off switch," Ollie said.

"Is
it just me, or does that dancing man look a lot like you?" I asked Ethan.

"I
will push you into the room and disappear," he threatened mildly.

I
whisper-laughed and scanned the room.  My eyes skated over the bookshelves
lining the walls and the conveniently low cross beams scattered below the
vaulted ceiling.  There were also a few couches and a desk in the center of the
room.  I didn't want to touch the couches, because all of their weight was
pinpointed on four tiny legs that would easily detect an increase in pressure. 
The weight of the bookshelves and desks, however, were spread across flat
surfaces and not sitting on pressure plates. 

Ethan
gently pulled the door closed and we backed away.  I walked down the hall and
skimmed my hands along the wall, pushing slightly, until it gave a little.  I
stopped and pushed harder and it popped open, revealing a hidden passageway. 
It zigzagged throughout the entire house with select entrances and exits. 
Ethan followed me inside and produced a small LED flashlight.  He lit the path
and I mentally measured the distance and then stopped when I found the next
door.  Ethan pushed against the wall, and it creaked open, swinging a bookshelf
out into the room.  It was the same room, different entrance.  I slid my knife
out of my thigh sheath and handed it off to Ethan.

"Give
me the replica," I said.

He
produced a small bag and slid the straps up my arms.  He turned me around to
face him and snapped the two front buckles across my torso, quickly pulling
them tight so forcefully that he pulled me into his body. 

My
hands flew to his chest and I said, "Easy, Boss.  I still need to
breathe."

"You
guys
are
working, right?" Spencer asked suspiciously.

"Shut
up, Spence," I said.

Ethan
didn't say anything and I turned to face the room.

"Your
hair," he reminded me.

"Oh,
right."  I feathered my fingers through my hair and threw it into a knot
on the top of my head. 

I
took a deep breath and felt Ethan's hands fit comfortably around my waist.  His
fingers pulsed around me and then I heard and felt him whisper into my ear,
"Ready?"

"Ready,"
I whispered back.

I
touched my hands to the top of the bookshelf and Ethan lifted me up.  Once my
hands got a grip on the top, I pushed myself up the rest of the way, so that my
pelvis was pressed against the top edge of the bookshelf not unlike a gymnast
would press against the uneven bars.  Ethan released me and took a step back as
I lifted a foot to push myself the rest of the way up.  I stood up on the
bookshelf and looked around the room again.  So far, so good.

The
statue was directly across the room, and the bookshelves weren't wall to wall,
so I had to get creative.  I whispered across two bookshelves, and stepped
lightly to the third in the corner of the room.  I went one more bookshelf over
when I came to a long break in the shelves with a box mounted to the wall
between them. 

"Found
the electrical box," I said.

I
got down on my knees and leaned my torso forward to reach the box.  There was a
ceiling beam hanging right by me, so I palmed the side of it to balance myself
and leaned down to open the box.  I leaned closer to get a good look at the
wires and my foot twitched just enough to nudge a book behind me.

"Book!"
Ethan whisper-yelled at me.

I
quickly pushed off of the beam and twirled around to catch the teetering book
right as it was about to tumble to the floor.  I caught it and gently set it on
the shelf, then turned back around and repositioned.

"Tell
me which wires to twist together," I said.

"The
blue and the green.  The alarm box is sending out a specific amount of
electricity around the room.  If one of the pressure plates are tripped, wires
disconnect and it shuts off the flow of electricity, tripping the alarm,"
Ollie said.