A whole evening of circling, circling, circling this ostentatious gala in the hopes of picking up a trail, only to come up empty-handed. It was no secret that Liam Donovan was not a particularly patient man. He had his moments, but they were limited to about half-hour stretches. And his half-hour stretch for tonight was long gone, downed with a couple tumblers of whisky whilst bantering with that vodka-defending moron. A little buzz had helped take the edge off, but the buzz was now also gone, leaving the warlord restless and agitated. He wanted to start dragging security personnel, bellhops, waiters, fucking Howard Golightly himself off to a quiet corner and start jamming blades into them until they screamed the diamondâs location.
But that was against the rules. Fucking rules he and the Irish hadnât even made. So why the hell did he have to follow them?
Liamâs skin was crawling with the desire to do something, anything other than keep chattering to random celebrities and pissants. He needed air, he needed to pace, he needed to find someone to punch until they told him what he wanted to know. One of his crew approached him, and Liam nearly told him to go suck his own dick. But the man had info, a tiny glimmer of hope that maybe they could salvage this fuckup of a night. A woman, seen chatting up a guard. Guard left, she followed. His man had tried to pursue, but she was slippery and he didnât know this place well. Then, two minutes later, an Irish insider working in maintenance saw the same womanâblonde in a black dressâtailing security to the hotelâs basement. A stroke of luck only the Irish could ever have, and Liam wasnât about to waste it. He didnât care if there was a chance the blonde and the guard were just meeting up for a quickie away from prying eyes. Liam lived by his instincts and his luck, and both were now screaming at him to take action.
Alex had given him specific orders the moment theyâd arrived at The Garden: find the diamonds, secure them, and eliminate any competition. This was the best chance heâd had all night to do just that. So he followed the trail, slowly winding his way into the hotelâs depths all while looking for any signs of subterfuge or foul play. And soon enough, he found precisely what he was looking for. A slim viper of a woman, rising up from her position crouched over the body of a guard. She raised a gun and unloaded a slug into the corpse, triggering screams from behind a nearby door. An isolated room under heavy guard in the basement of a five-star hotel, wherein a spoiled brat was going to be gifted one of the most coveted diamonds in the world? Mystery solvedâhe knew exactly where the Pink Star was.
He needed to act fast. Whoever the woman ahead of him was, she was dangerous and after the same priceless target as him. She wasnât Irish, so she was an enemy, and if it werenât for the shouts of nearby guards, he would consider her threat number one. As it was, she might prove useful until he had the diamond in hand.
Liam took the hallway in long strides, adrenaline flooding his veins ahead of what he was certain was going to be the violence heâd craved all evening. The Sig tucked into the back of his waistband slipped into his hand with practiced ease just as the woman looked up and fixed him with an impish grin. Under any other circumstances, Liam would have taken it as an invitation for a very different kind of playdate. The smile he threw back at her equal parts jovial and feral as he loaded a clip into his gun. âAw, youâre breaking my heart, babe. Iâm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.â The Russians, huh? Typical. The shouting behind the door rose. He could hear call signs and orders being barked into radios, demands for identification. âI wouldnât worry about me keeping up, sweetheart,â Liam said with a bark of laughter, pistol now pointed at the door. âBut you should think about leaving your shoes here, cause Iâm not carrying you if you break a heel.â
Celine was split between two thoughts as she considered the man before her. She wondered which mafia he represented, for he was surely someone of talent to have tailed her for this long. The second was focused on whether blood would permanently stain her sheer black grown; a favourite within her wardrobe. Obviously, it was the latter that brought her the most concern, but the sooner she got this lumbering giant out of the way, the better. But it seemed like he did have at least two brain cells to rub together, for he smiled back at her and she understood. This was someone with an itch for bloodshed, who wanted this kill as badly as she did. Not perhaps for the sake of retrieving the diamond, but because the act of fighting itself was so goddamned satisfying.Â
Well, the evening wasnât such a waste after all.
âMy, arenât we feeling lucky tonight?â She purred, quirking one fine eyebrow as the urgent shouting behind the door increased. The guards were getting frantic, panicked by the lack of a response. Good. The more they worked themselves up into a lather, the more enjoyable their little game would be. âYou think you have what it takes to satisfy me, love? Somehow, I doubt that, but by all means, prove me wrong.â The stranger talked big, but Celine had been in the game long enough that it was easier to keep her expectations of him rather low. On the bright side, given how large of a brute he was, he would make for an excellent bullet shield.
As the door knob started to turn her eyes flickered back to the door, scoffing the mention of her shoes even as she could hear guns being loaded in the vault room. âWhat? Youâve never killed in Alexander McQueen before? Darling, you need to up your game.â Celine tossed back her blonde hair, giving the stranger a fraction of warning before she opened the door and a hail of bullets rang out. The assassin backed off during the initial assault before darting into the room, confirming the count of six as they levelled their guns in her direction. But by the time they caught sight of her, in their heavy armor and artillery, she had already buried a bullet into the neck of the nearest guard.Â
Celine moved like a wraith, a serpent dressed in black that ducked behind tables, taking aim where they couldnât see her and peppering them with solid lead. Even if it didnât fully penetrate, for they did have some level of preparation ahead of time, it still knocked them off-guard. Which, if her companion was slightly above dim-witted, should have been a suitable enough distraction on its own. The thrill of flirting this close to death thrummed in her, bringing out the delightfully vicious creature that rested under her skin. Nearing yet another guard, she placed the barrel of her gun against the base of their neck and pulled the trigger, cackling as she avoided gunfire with their bloodied corpse before darting away yet again. âIâve got two over you already, dear! I thought you were supposed to be good at this?â