The Taken

accusations.”

Grif tilted his head. “There’s a time and place for those?”

Chambers grew so still the whole room seemed to hold its breath. Then he leaned close. “Some nosy little girl gets taken out by bad guys in a bad place she had no business being, well… I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“She was investigating a prostitution ring,” Kit said, just as pointedly, if louder. “A source told her that you, and many of the men here tonight, were involved.”

“Then maybe she should have been a bit more selective about her sources.” He straightened his tux impatiently. “I’ve been the target of rumor, innuendo, and extortion for too long to get worked up by some young reporter’s overactive imagination. But when I’ve invited you into my own home, for a holiday charity event, then I expect you to bring your manners along with you.”

He gestured to someone behind them. Kit had an image of being escorted out into the dark by Schmidt, and her heart jumped.

“Kicking us out?” said Grif, reading at least part of her thoughts.

“On the contrary,” Chambers said, as a hostess arrived with a tray full of drinks. He removed two fresh flutes and offered them to Kit and Grif. “Make yourselves at home. Enjoy the festivities while you can.”

He turned, but paused in his retreat to stare her down. Kit’s mouth dried, her pulse quickened, and she had to concentrate just to hold on to her champagne flute. Had she ever been looked at in such a way before? Like he was seeing her and not. Like she was an object that had been propped in the wrong place.

“If you ever have so-called evidence linking me to a horrific crime again, I suggest running it by the police before you go running your mouth. Or you might find yourself on the losing end of a very large lawsuit. And I don’t believe your little family newspaper needs that, do you?” Then he straightened, blinked like he was coming out of a trance, jerked at his jacket lapels, and walked away as if they didn’t exist.

“Was that a veiled threat?” Kit asked Grif, ignoring a pointed glare from Paul as he headed directly toward Chambers.

“I didn’t see any veil.”

Neither had Kit. Sipping from her flute, trying not to shake, she looked around again for Schmidt, but saw only other guests, most now eyeing them warily.

“Notice he didn’t ask exactly what kind of list he was on,” Grif said. “Grocery list. Mailing list. Prize chump of the year list.”

“I did notice. But we still have no evidence linking him to the Wayfarer.” And now she was also on the bad side of the most powerful man in the city.

Grif tsk-ed insincerely, jerking his head at Paul, who’d finally caught up to Chambers, though he looked like he wished he hadn’t. “And with his reputation at stake, too.”

“It’s not funny, Grif.” Kit whirled to the windows and placed her flute on the sill so she could cover her face with her hands. Outside the wind ripped around trees that had no business being in the desert, the sound as foreign to Kit as an ocean rushing the shore. For a moment, she imagined herself far away.

Then Grif’s arm slid over her shoulders, and he pulled her close. “Hey, now. It’s all right. I don’t think you were going to make his Christmas card list this year anyway.”

Kit knew he was right, but was suddenly overwhelmed with the enormity of what she was doing. She really could lose it all-her reputation, the paper… her life. Who the hell was she? And what was she trying to prove? “This whole thing is a catastrophe.”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?” A disbelieving snort escaped her. “Shouldn’t an angel be better at cheering me up?”

Grif removed his arm, making her wish she hadn’t swiped at him, but then he lowered his elbows to the sill and joined her in looking out at the dark. “I can tell you one thing.”

“What?” Kit asked, not sure she wanted to know.

“Top-secret angel stuff. Gotta promise not to put it in print.”

“Shaw.”

He smiled slightly as he lifted his gaze to the stars. “You can’t quit, Kitty-cat. You call this a catastrophe, but take it from me, the line between a catastrophe and a miracle is a fine one.”

Kit shook her head. “You say the damnedest things, Mr. Shaw.”

“Thank you, Miss Craig.” Straightening, he offered his arm. “Now, come on… there’s got to be someone else in here we can piss off.”

“Yes.” Kit sighed. “We seem to be very good at that.”

Chapter Sixteen

Grif and Kit remained at the ball despite a sudden and clear non-grata status, a state made more apparent when the waitresses ceased offering them drinks. But Kit redeemed herself by participating in the auction, doing brief battle with another woman before winning a spa package for two to some chichi Strip resort, earning an acknowledging nod from Chambers.

There was something about the man, Grif thought, studying Chambers’s demeanor as he moved, too smooth, through the room. Ignore the monkey suit, the moneyed air, the constant ass-kissing that Chambers had to practically swivel to avoid. Forget that they’d just met. Grif knew this guy. He reminded him of a fighter who’d once sucker-punched Grif in the ring. Neither the largest nor the strongest, the man had a meanness to his eye that Grif had been on the lookout for ever since. Chambers had it, too.

Grif was so focused on him that Kit’s low whisper didn’t register at first, though her body heat did. “I think we’re going to have to split up.”

“Not a chance.”

“Look around, Grif. There’s something else going on here. For example, have you noticed a distinct whiteness to this crowd?”

“Mormon,” Grif pointed out.

“This isn’t a Mormon function,” she returned. “And even the servers are all white.”

Not to mention female. At some point the male waiters had all been dismissed, and only the hostesses remained behind.

“And did you notice that the men are disappearing in clumps? Most aren’t heading back to the tram, either.”

He had noticed. There’d been a slow, intermittent exodus to a doorway tucked beneath the split-V staircase, clearly guarded by a man with an earpiece and battle guns for forearms.

Kit bit her wide bottom lip and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Something else is going on, and I think it’s behind that door. But I don’t think I can get there.”

“Well, I’m not leaving you.” Grif had seen the look Chambers had given her. It had him looking for plasma. And for Schmidt.

“Look, I’m too well-known for anything to happen to me here. Besides, we haven’t even seen Schmidt. So what do you say I stay here and you go storm the castle.”

He eyed her coolly. “You’ll stay here?”

“We need to know what’s going on behind those doors, and I can’t do it.”

Grif wasn’t even sure he could. But five minutes later, when Chambers completed his final round with the remaining guests, the man’s implacable smile slipped as he nodded at the door’s guard, and Grif had to watch, frustrated, while he disappeared inside.

“Stay in plain sight,” Grif ordered Kit. “I mean it.”

Kit saluted as he headed across the ballroom. “You’re the alpha angel.”

Smart-ass. That’s why he was already scowling when he approached the guard.

“Your ticket, sir?” the man said, before Grif had even come to a stop.

“I gave it to the girl out front,” Grif said, taking a step forward.

As expected, the guard intercepted. “I mean the other ticket, sir.”