“It’s an event that attracts a lot of key players.”
I still don’t see how this gets us to Elijah. “What are you suggesting we do? Poison their champagne?”
A grin ghosts across Adam’s face. “We use the powers of pointed conversation to pull the strings of the web.”
“And once we find him?”
He sobers. “Then we’ll know if Elijah can be saved or if it’s too late.”
A lump in my throat gives a painful twist and I swallow against it. “It’s not too late. Let’s go to the fundraiser.”
“What fundraiser?” London cuts in. She’s back from her bedroom, her hair in a bun that still manages to look elegant even with wet hair. “You can’t go to a fundraiser looking like you’ve been hiding in your apartment for weeks. Plus, why?” She takes us both in, suspicion in her eyes. “Why would you leave now?”
“To save a man who doesn’t want to be saved,” Adam says. “I owe him one for not shooting me through the heart.”
“To confront the people who have taken him hostage,” I point out. “It’s illegal, what they’re doing, and probably torture—”
“You can’t,” London says simply. “You know you can’t.”
“There are no other options.” Adam is being so calm and soothing that I could die. “It’s risky. It’s dangerous. I can’t lie to you about that. You should walk away.”
“So you’re telling me there are dangerous people at this fundraiser.” London purses her lips, eyes flashing. “You’re telling me that my sister will be around them, poking at them.”
“Oh, yes. Many. Several who might not be pleased to see me.”
“You’re not doing it, then. You’re not taking my sister into another dangerous place.”
“Yes, he is,” I say, at the same time Adam says “Yes, I am.”
“You—” London’s chin quivers. “You’ve been hiding here. You’ve been hiding here because they could kill you. I won’t let you drag my sister back into harm’s way.”
“He’s not dragging me. And if you’re going to stand here and fight with me, then I’ll just leave. I’ll go by myself. Looking like this, if I have to.” Every heartbeat is another second that Elijah could be hurt, or dying. “I have to do this, London.”
Adam and London exchange a look. I hate them for this look. I hate that they’re in a position to exchange a look at all and I’m here without Elijah and without my heart.
“I’ll need clothes, too,” Adam says. “We’ll meet back here in two hours.”
“Don’t do this,” London says, her voice low and strained.
Adam pauses.
London swallows hard. “I’m asking you not to.”
I can’t take a breath while I wait for Adam’s verdict.
Adam drops his chin to his chest. “And any other time, I’d listen to you. Order me around in bed, please. Tell me what to do with my fucking life. I’m game. But not this. If there’s a chance to expose the colonel for what he was, I’m going to take it, even if it means losing you.”
Adam gives London a last, lingering look, and then he’s gone.
London drops her head into her hands.
“I’m sorry.” It’s not enough, but it’s all I have left to give her. I pull my purse close. “I have to go.”
“Oh, shut up, Holly.” She lifts her head and her cheeks are flushed, eyes red. Crying over Adam? If this were a normal day, I’d make her sit on the couch with a bottle of wine and tell me what the hell is going on. But she’s already in motion, grabbing her purse and searching for her coat. “I know a salon that can help you. They’re good in an emergency.”
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t ask me that again. Just follow me.”
I have my doubts about the emergency hair salon, but it turns out my sister is right. They are good in an emergency. An hour after we walk in, my hair has been cut and styled and they’ve put on enough makeup to hide my pale skin and the smudges under my eyes. With an hour to go before the fundraiser, London walks quickly back down the block. I keep up without asking questions as she makes one turn, then another, then tells me to wait outside the door of a boutique. She comes out a minute later with a garment bag slung over her shoulder.
We do not discuss Adam.
The apartment is still empty when we come back. Thirty minutes to go. She hustles me into the bedroom and starts pulling out all the necessary pieces to strap me into a cocktail gown.
I should have given her more credit. I wasn’t aware until I sat down at the salon what a mess I’ve become, but in twenty minutes flat London has me taped into a gown and slipping on heels. She rifles through her closet, picking out a purse that goes.
“You look good,” she says.
“I look like shit.”
“You feel like shit.” London is very sage. “But you’re beautiful.”
I give her a hug. A big one. She’s partially responsible for the worst of everything that’s happened, but she’s also the reason I met Elijah again. “I love you, London. You know that, right? You’re my best sister.”
It’s something I said to her when we were little. She gives me a wry smile, because she’s my only sister. Even if I had a hundred, London would be my best sister. I would fly to the ends of the earth to protect her, and I’m so grateful she’s fought the addiction this hard.
We step out of the bedroom and find Adam waiting in the living room. He looks like a different man than the scruffy, shirtless hottie who was here earlier. Now he’s in a suit, looking like he belongs at a masquerade ball in a castle in Italy.
I’m the one who’s had a hasty emergency makeover, but Adam only has eyes for London.
“When do you think you’ll be back?” She reaches over and smooths a panel of my dress.
“Not too late,” says Adam. There’s apology in his voice.
It’s such a mundane, normal thing to ask and a mundane, normal answer that tears sting the corners of my eyes. I’m not going to let them fall. Not with all this makeup on. But jealousy is a pair of rough hands cracking ribs. “Okay,” I say, taking the clutch purse from London. “Let’s go find Elijah North.”
* * *
The fundraiser is held at a fancy hotel because of course it is. This is probably our only lucky break. Adam escorts me in through the front doors. We pretend to head for the check-in desk at the lobby, then change course, meandering toward the enormous ballroom along the back of the hotel. Soft music makes a backdrop for the swells of powerful people talking.
We get rid of our coats at the coat check, and then it’s time to go in.
The party could be the same one London and I went to in that Italian castle several lifetimes ago. It’s the same scene, different setting. Men in dark suits. Women in jewel-toned dresses. Bubbling drinks and subtle decorations and the thick scent of money.
My stomach drops. There are too many people in here, and if Adam is right, then any one of them could be the one who’s keeping Elijah from me. Any one of them could be the person who was controlling the colonel. The U.S. government is a hydra. Cut off one head, and another one grows in its place.