syringe he’d placed there earlier in the evening. It was loaded with a hefty dose of Thorazine. The syringe was his only weapon at this point.
The security detail at the entrance to the ballroom had been waiting for him, to ensure that he wouldn’t make a scene in the middle of the hall. They had failed to pat him down and the metal detector hadn’t picked up the presence of the syringe. Now he had to figure out a way to use it effectively.
“See that he stays here,” Flynn instructed, reaching into the pocket of his uniform and pulling out a gun. “Wait until the uproar inside the ballroom erupts and then take care of him. I’ve planted enough evidence in the room to implicate him in the assassination plot.” He glanced at Ryan, his expression slightly distracted as if his thoughts were already on the developing carnage about to occur two floors above. “Goodbye, Doctor. I could lie and say it had been a pleasure knowing you, but I won’t insult your intelligence. You’ve inconvenienced me more than you’ll ever know over these past few days. It will be good to see the last of you.”
He stepped into the hall and nodded at the other man to accompany him. He closed the door with an ominous finality. Ryan turned to face the man advancing across the floor toward him. He slipped his hand into his pocket, preparing to take down whatever stood in his way of getting to Tess in time.
Chapter Fifteen
Ryan slipped out of the room and locked the door behind him. He hung a Do Not Disturb sign on the knob and then gave the hall a quick check. Empty. He ran for the elevator.
Behind him, the guard slumbered peacefully. Ryan figured he’d sleep until the morning. One less to worry about. He had no idea how many others waited for him two floors up.
He pressed the up button and the elevator doors slid open a few seconds later. The interior was crammed with a group of women. From the sound of the laughter and chatter, it was obvious that they were revved up for an evening of fun. The smell of perfume and alcohol drifted out into the hallway.
“Come on in and join the fun!” a sultry voice called from the back of the crush.
For a second, Ryan considered waiting for the next car. He didn’t want to involve the women in whatever awaited him upstairs, but a woman in a slinky beaded dress and an abundance of flaming red hair grabbed his arm and yanked him into the elevator. He bumped up against her low-cut, well-endowed chest and murmured a polite apology.
She laughed and slid one rounded hip against his upper thigh. “Don’t worry. We don’t bite.” She laughed, something low and wicked. “Not so it hurts anyway.”
The group of all women laughed and the voice in the back added, “We’re on a fast car to the top. Hang on.”
“Guess everyone’s in full party mode, huh?” Ryan said, forcing a false sense of amusement into his own voice.
“You’ve got it, honey,” another woman said, breathing out enough fumes to make Ryan sure he could blow a Blood Alcohol Level above the legal limit all on his own.
“Out with the old and in with the new, is my motto,” the redhead said. “That goes for my politicians, as well as my men.”
The women all laughed again.
“You look as though you’re in for a fun evening,” Ryan said. “Mind if I tag along?”
“We’d be delighted, handsome,” the redhead said, pressing in closer and giving the blond woman on his other side a sharp look of disapproval. The blonde ignored her friend’s attempt to lay claim and leaned in closer.
Ryan slipped a hand around both their waists and grinned. He’d found his cover. His way in. As the elevator door slid open, he patted his jacket and affected a look of distress.
“What wrong?” the redhead asked, a red-lacquered, one-inch nail coming up to gently lift his chin.
“I seem to have lost my invitation.”
Her well-manicured hand slipped quickly into the front of his suit jacket to check the inside pocket. Her touch lingered, sliding out to caress his ribs and down along the inside edge of his cummerbund. “Nope, definitely there,” she purred in his ear. “The kind of invitation I prefer anyway.”
Ryan turned a little to the left, disengaging himself from her roving hand before it got any lower. He covered his rejection with a gentle smile.
Disappointment flashed in her green eyes-eyes that seemed somewhat dull and lifeless compared to another pair of green eyes Ryan had grown to love, a pair of eyes he was desperate to see again.
“Guess I’m out of luck as far as getting into the celebration,” he said with a sigh.
The blonde, smiling with secret amusement at her friend’s obvious strikeout, patted his other arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you through.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the rear of the car. “Right, ladies?”
A chorus of feminine voices shouted their agreement. They had a mission and they weren’t about to fail.
The redhead shrugged, but before she could say anything, the elevator door opened and the women surged forward, pulling him with them on a crested wave of perfume and hair spray. As they started down the hall, they surrounded him, calling to each other as they headed for the security checkpoint.
In the middle of the group, Ryan studied the doorway leading to the terrace. He noted that the men manning the station were no longer Secret Service men, and the marine guard detail was also gone.
In their place stood two rent-a-cop guards, looking slightly harassed and overwhelmed. Apparently Flynn wasn’t taking any chances. He’d effectively eliminated a possible roadblock to the planned assassination. Ryan couldn’t help but wonder what excuse he’d used to get the other men to vacate their post.
The women pushed forward, surrounding the guards with their chatter and gaiety. Several of the women flirted outrageously, reaching out to drape their arms around the men and distracting them with flattery, flashes of long, bare limbs beneath elegant gowns and whispered invitations to sneak away and join them for a drink.
The two men didn’t know what hit them. They craned their necks trying to take everything in, their expressions softening.
Two of the women stepped through the barrier, and as one of them passed Ryan, she slipped him her invitation, covering it with a quick peck on the flustered guard’s cheek.
Ryan stepped up behind her and breezily waved the invitation at the guard who was watching the woman saunter away. She paused at the doorway to the terrace to flash the guard a final grin and a wave. The distracted fellow ran the metal detector over Ryan, not even bothering to check the invitation. He waved him through with barely another glance.
Ryan moved through the standing, cheering crowd. The noise was deafening, pressing down on him and making it seem impossible that he’d ever find Tess among them.
He strained to see over the heads of the people in front and alongside him. No one he recognized. Just a sea of excited faces, the glitter and gleam of the women’s jewelry almost blinding in its brilliance.
Overhead, the lights had been dimmed, a single spotlight focused on the center of the dais. Jacob Starling had moved up to the podium, his ruggedly handsome face beaming out at the crowd. A large American flag, the stripes and stars waving in a breeze, had been projected onto a huge video screen behind him.
A woman Ryan recognized as the vice president’s wife moved up to stand a step behind her husband. Her carefully coifed hair and elegant gown spoke of wealth and years of breeding. She stared in the direction of her husband, her expression an example of wifely adoration. A smile touched her lips.
Starling glanced over his shoulder at her, as if he had noticed for the first time that she’d moved up to join him at the podium. He shot her a look of appreciation. And as the TV camera projecting their image onto dual screens on either side of the dais moved in for the close-up, not a single person in the audience missed him mouthing the words,
The crowd went wild.
Mrs. Starling mouthed the words back to him and the crowd cheered even louder. This was American royalty at its best.
When Starling turned back to the audience, his confidence and ease with being on the stage in front of such a huge crowd was evident. These were his people. His most ardent supporters. He was in his element.
He leaned forward, his lips almost touching the microphone, and his deep voice boomed out over the terrace. “I
