Driving Force. Elle JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
in their finest. Men in black tuxedoes and women wearing sparkling dresses in silver, gold, blue, red and more.
The crush of people made Gus nervous. How were they supposed to keep Charlie safe when any one of the guests could easily get close enough to jab a knife into the widow?
Gus found himself stepping in front of Charlie every time someone approached.
“Gus,” Charlie said. “It’s okay. These people are harmless. They were all screened by the event coordinator. Now, scoot back and let me mingle with the people who paid a lot of money to support the charity. It’s the least I can do to ensure this organization gets the funding needed to help the children.” Charlie marched forward to a group of men and women, smiling and greeting every one of them by name.
Declan touched Gus’s arm. “She should be okay,” he said, though his attention continued to be directed at Charlie and the people surrounding her.
The widow laughed at what someone in the group said. Another man with a black tuxedo and a crooked bow tie approached Charlie.
The hairs on the back of Gus’s neck spiked. He started forward, expecting Declan’s arm to shoot out.
His leader didn’t slow him down a bit. Instead, he stepped out with Gus and swung wide around the man heading for Charlie.
Gus headed straight for the man and clamped a hand on his shoulder.
Declan stepped in front of him at the same time.
The man frowned. “Excuse me—is there something you want?”
“We’re here with Mrs. Halverson,” Declan said.
“Exactly who I wanted to speak with.” The man looked past Declan. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just have a word with her.”
Gus didn’t loosen his hold on the man’s shoulder. “You won’t mind if we check you for weapons, will you?”
The gentleman’s eyes rounded. “What?”
Gus ran his hands down the man’s sides, patting his tuxedo jacket for bulges.
“I beg your pardon.” The guy backed out of Gus’s reach. “I do mind being treated like a criminal.”
“Gus, Declan, what are you doing?” Charlie’s voice sounded behind Declan.
“The man was converging on you at a high rate of speed,” Gus explained. “We’re making sure he isn’t carrying a weapon.”
“Good Lord.” Charlie stepped between Gus and the man. “This is Joseph Morley, the event reporter. He always features me in his account of this gala.” She turned to Joseph. “Please excuse my overzealous bodyguards. They don’t know everyone.”
Morley straightened his jacket and gave Charlie a tight smile. “At least they have your best interests at heart.”
“Yes, they do. I can’t fault them for that.” She gave Declan and Gus each a narrow-eyed glare. “But they can stand back and let me have a little space while we’re here.”
Heat rushed into Gus’s cheeks. How was he supposed to know who was friend and who was foe?
Declan and Gus took the clue and stepped back, allowing Charlie a chance to visit with Morley.
“I don’t like how close everyone is to Charlie,” Gus admitted.
“I know what you mean.” Declan pressed his lips in a tight line. “But we can’t smother her. She’s already angry with us for assaulting the reporter.”
“I didn’t assault him,” Gus said. “I only patted him down.”
Declan’s lips twitched. “Find anything?”
“No,” Gus admitted.
“Then we should just stand back and let Charlie do her thing. As long as we keep an eye on her, she should be all right.”
Gus nodded. “Sounds like a plan that will work for her.”
For the next hour, they followed Charlie around the ballroom as she spoke with everyone, laughed, joked and talked about the need for funds to help keep children from being sold and trafficked in the US as well as abroad.
“Gentlemen, I shall be retiring to the ladies’ room for a few minutes.” She held up her hand. “I will not need your services in that area. Feel free to get a beverage and some of the appetizers. I don’t plan on being here more than another hour.”
Gus clamped down on his tongue to keep from saying thank God. He’d read that the gala started around 6:00 p.m. and didn’t end until well into the wee hours of the morning.
At least Charlie didn’t feel the need to dance into the night. She’d made that clear up front. They’d stay for a couple hours and then head home.
One hour down, one to go.
The patent-leather shoes he’d rented with the tuxedo were chafing at his ankles. He’d love it if he could kick off the shoes and walk barefoot through the crowd.
Gus and Declan followed Charlie through the throng of beautifully dressed people toward the hallway where the facilities were located. They gave her just enough room that she wouldn’t feel crowded but stayed sufficiently close to get to her should someone try to jump her.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gus noticed a woman dressed in a long figure-hugging black gown standing near a giant potted tree. She had hair as black and silky as her dress and deep, dark eyes almost as black as her outfit. Striking was the word Gus would use to describe her. But what drew his attention to her was that her gaze never left Charlie. It followed her all the way into the ladies’ room.
“Wanna go for that drink or appetizers while I stay and guard the door?” Declan asked.
“No,” Gus said, his attention on the woman in black.
Declan must have heard something in Gus’s voice. He frowned, glancing around. “Something bothering you?”
“My gut is sending up warning flags,” Gus murmured.
Declan stiffened. “About?”
With barely a lift of his chin, Gus motioned toward the woman in black. “Her.”
“Wow. She screams black widow in that killer dress,” Declan said. “You are talking about the black-haired beauty near the potted tree, right?”
“I am.”
The woman looked left, then right. She spotted Declan and Gus and the slightest frown appeared and then disappeared on her brow.
“Did you see that?” Gus asked. “She frowned when she noticed us watching her.”
“I thought I imagined it, but yes. I saw it.” Declan turned his attention to Gus and smiled. “I’ll pretend we’re having a manly discussion about sports or something while you continue to watch.” His grin broadened, and he spoke a little louder. “How about those Patriots?”
“You know I’m an Alabama fan,” Gus said, also in a conversational volume. In a whisper, he added, “She’s moving.”
“Which way?” Declan asked. “Alabama is college football. The Patriots are a real team.”
“Toward us,” Gus muttered without moving his lips. Then he snorted. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“Yeah. You watch your team. I’ll watch mine.”
The woman in black sailed past them, her head held high, her silky black hair flowing around her shoulders, her chin tilted upward, displaying a long, regal neck.
Damn she was beautiful. But something about her didn’t fit in with the other women in the room. She was thin, but athletic, and she walked with confidence and purpose.
Perhaps it was the purpose