On the radio, Caleb was sarcastically asking if someone was done screwing around. That someone had to be Sawyer, which meant he was still around to rag on. But she refused to breathe easier until she heard Jake announcing they’d all made it to the top. Finally prying her claws out of the wooden railing, she turned to see if anyone had noticed. No one was looking at her curiously. Except Misty, of course. Harley nodded, silently letting her teammate know she was okay. Good thing, too, because the door of the tram slid back with a pneumatic hiss.
Showtime.
“This way, please,” a man in an expensive suit said in a slightly accented voice from where he stood outside the door.
Harley almost froze as she recognized Long Hair, the guy who could appear and disappear at will. The one who’d stabbed her. She tried not to flinch when the man’s dark gaze swept the tram, but if he recognized her and Misty, he gave no sign of it.
“If you’ll form a line right out here, we can do a security check and scan your invitations, then get you on your way,” he said.
The first person who stepped out of the tram, a distinguished-looking man in his midsixties with perfectly styled hair and neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, frowned like he’d sucked a lemon. “We already presented our invitation down below.”
“And now you’re showing them to me,” Long Hair said coldly. “Or you can turn and get back on the tram. Your choice.”
The older man reached into an inside jacket pocket for his invitation and held it out with a disdainful expression. “Do you know who I am?”
Long Hair didn’t say anything as he scanned the matrix bar code on the back of the card with an iPad. Harley couldn’t see what it displayed, but Long Hair scrolled down and back up, studying whatever it was as a burly guard ran a handheld metal detector over the older man.
“I do now, Mr. Caron.” Long Hair gave him a cool smile. “As well as everything else I’d ever want to know about you. Have a nice evening.”
Caron looked like he was tempted to say something, but then appeared to think better of it and stepped past Long Hair. Harley applauded his common sense.
She tried to stay relaxed as she and Misty moved forward through the line. Jestina’s makeup was top notch. There was nothing to worry about. That didn’t keep her heart from thudding extra fast when she finally stood in front of Long Hair. The scar on her chest from where the bastard had stabbed her started to tingle.
When Long Hair scanned her invitation, she peeked over the edge of the iPad to see what was on the screen. Crap—not only did it show Abella’s photo, but where she was from, what schools she’d attended, even her blood type. It was the picture that worried Harley the most. At the bottom of the mountain, they’d simply crossed her assumed name off a list, but this was an entirely different situation. What if her makeup wasn’t good enough and this a-hole realized she wasn’t who she was supposed to be? They’d kill her and Misty for sure.
Long Hair looked up from his iPad to study her closely while the guard ran the metal detector over her entire body. Harley tried to project an air of calm, entitled confidence as Long Hair scrolled through the info on the screen. Thank goodness she and her teammates hadn’t attempted to bring weapons up here. That would have gotten them in trouble regardless of how good their makeup was.
“Ms. Herrera,” he said slowly, drawing out each syllable much more than necessary before glancing at Misty. “And your plus one.”
His gaze snapped back to Harley, his expression verging on suspicious. The scar on her chest burned even more, and she tensed, knowing things were about to go to hell in a handbag in another minute. She tensed, ready to take the guy down before he could say a word—or disappear.
“Have a nice evening,” he said suddenly, offering her the card, then holding on to it longer than necessary before letting go, his eyes still locked with hers.
She resisted the urge to shudder.
Creepy much?
“Seamus,” a woman’s voice said from Harley’s right. “Stop torturing the potential buyers. Boc wants them inside so we can start the auction as soon as possible.”
Harley turned to see a pretty woman in her late twenties or early thirties, with long, silky, dark hair, walking toward them with a smile, a man at her side who looked so much like her that he had to be her brother.
“Oh, come on, Brielle,” Seamus said with a laugh, motioning Harley and Misty through. “Can’t a man have any fun?”
“When it holds up the boss’s profits, then no. Nothing gets in the way of business. You should know that better than anyone.”
Several other men arrived with iPads in hand, presumably to help Seamus check in the other guests. Harley quickly hurried past, Misty at her side. As they did, Harley glanced over her shoulder at the tall, slender woman. So, that was the woman who knew how to find supernaturals. Harley sniffed the air, trying to see if Brielle smelled supernatural. If she was, she didn’t have a distinct scent Harley could pick up. Maybe Brielle was human. Either that or Harley’s nose had decided to stop working again. It seemed the only thing she could consistently smell was Sawyer. Which, while very pleasant, wasn’t so helpful right now.
Harley and Misty followed a red carpet toward the main building, bright lights illuminating the stacked-stone construction, terracotta roof tiles, and stone archways over the windows and door. But as breathtaking as the Holy Trinity Monastery was, it was the well-armed men positioned around the
