I looked up into those glittering eyes. Jaz stepped closer. His hand slid to the back of my head as he bent down, our masks rustling as they brushed, our lips-

A jolt and Jaz stumbled as Guy slapped his back.

“Save it,” Guy said.

Jaz’s head whipped around, eyes narrowing, lip curling as if ready to spit something at the interruption. Then he went still, his eyes half closing, the look fading.

“Yes, boss.” He lowered his lips to my ear. “What a spoilsport, huh? Expects us to work.” His finger slid up my jawline and tickled my earlobe. “Later?”

I twisted to look up at him and our gazes locked.

“Please,” I said.

A sharp intake of breath and a final glimmer of frustrated lust. Then he dodged a second smack. We started forward, following Guy.

We found our target by the punch fountain. Cleo’s father stood there, alone, fists clenched, glaring around the room, as if that could fix matters, too enraged to even think of protecting his daughter.

Jaz’s hand slid from my waist and he was gone, circling wide around the man.

Guy stopped in front of the girl’s father. Not so much as a glance around to make sure Jaz was in position, trusting he’d be there when needed.

“You!” The father waved a hand, as if clearing the fog. “You won’t-”

“Get away with this?” Guy sighed. “So unoriginal. And, sadly, so wrong.”

“The police are probably on the way right now.”

Guy cocked his head. “I don’t hear any sirens.” His voice lowered conspiratorially. “Do you know why? Because we’re using the best soundproofing money can’t buy.”

A thought flew from the father, as fast and sharp as a knife blade, and I only had time to start a warning, but Guy was ready and grabbed the man’s hand as he went to throw a punch.

The man stiffened as the barrel of a gun dug into his lower back. He glanced over his shoulder at Jaz.

“So you know what that is?” Guy said. “We normally avoid guns. Too easy to misuse. But this one came courtesy of your guests. You really should have tighter security. These days, you can’t be too careful.”

“What do you want?” the man asked through gritted teeth.

“We already have what we want.” Guy lifted the bowl he’d been casually toting in one hand. “Before we go, though, I wanted to congratulate you on raising such a philanthropic daughter.”

The man’s face screwed up. “What?”

“Philanthropic. It means-”

“I know what it means.”

“Do you? That’s not what I hear. Your family isn’t known for sharing with the less fortunate, but that’s about to change.”

“What the hell are you-?”

“Tomorrow, in the Miami Herald, you’ll find a small piece announcing your daughter’s decision to donate half her sweet-sixteen party money to women’s education in third-world countries.”

“You’re crazy. My daughter isn’t going to-”

“Oh, but she is.” He hefted the bowl. “You have my word that the charity will receive half the money in this bowl come morning…unless it’s reported stolen.”

“What?”

“If you report the robbery, I can’t donate the money, can I? But that article will still run, saying your daughter intended to make the donation. That won’t look good to the police-you saying someone ‘stole’ the money that your daughter promised to charity. They’re going to think you took it, especially if they get an anonymous tip claiming you weren’t happy with your daughter’s plan.”

“You-you can’t-” he sputtered. “Everyone saw you take that bowl. I have over a hundred witnesses-”

“-to performance art gone horribly awry. You will apologize profusely to your guests and swear to put this troupe of actors out of business. Then you’ll give your daughter her half of the money-from your wallet-and have a heart-to-heart with her on the obligations the wealthy have to support the less fortunate, which is why you contributed half the gift money in her name.”

“That’s crazy. I won’t-”

Guy leaned forward as Jaz dug the gun in. “Oh, I think you will. You’ve seen what we can do, and that’s only a taste. Trust me, you don’t want the full lesson.”

He cast two fog spells in quick succession, then strode toward the Jag, Jaz and me following. Another jump onto the hood, a quick walk over the roof and we were outside.

Guy called Bianca and told her to meet us back at the Rider. Then Jaz held the knapsack while Guy dumped in the envelopes.

“Party time, boss?” Jaz asked. He plucked out a handful of envelopes. Guy smacked his hand, and Jaz dropped all but one and stuffed it into his pocket.

Guy only laughed. “Yeah, it’s party time.”

HOPE: TEQUILA SHOTS

We dumped the getaway car, switched to a crew vehicle and met the others in the lot behind the Rider.

Jaz grabbed my hand, dragging me along as he jogged up behind Sonny. He draped his arm around his friend’s shoulders.

“Party time, bro.”

Tony looked over. “Seriously?”

Jaz hooked a thumb at Guy, still behind us. “Boss says so.”

Bianca dropped back to walk with Guy. Jaz laced his fingers with mine and swung our arms. I laughed, almost expecting him to start skipping.

“Know what that means, Faith? Party time?”

“I have no idea.”

“It means the Rider is ours. Open bar. No rules. No obligations.”

Tony strode up on my other side. “No making nice to the tourists.”

“No making eyes at forty-year-old humans,” Max said.

Jaz grinned. “Nothing to do but party until the sun comes up.”

“Then collect our share, go home and party some more.”

Max and Tony threw open the doors and we walked in, the guys still laughing, so boisterous you’d think they’d already had a few hours at the open bar.

“Hey, boss?” Jaz called back. “You joining us?”

“Unlike some of us, I have responsibilities, Jasper. Money to count. A donation to make…”

“You’re really cutting the take in half?”

Guy smiled. “More or less.”

“I’ll help you,” Bianca said.

Tony dropped back beside her. “Do you have to, Bee? I was hoping you’d come play.”

“Guy needs help-”

“No, I don’t. You go, Bee. Boss’s orders. Have fun. Get sloshed. Enjoy yourself.”

After one lingering look at Guy, Bianca let Tony lead her into the club.

THERE WERE A handful of high tables next to the dance floor. The best seats in the house and always full. But when we strolled in, bouncers were already clearing two.

A server approached. “Mr. Benoit just called-”

“And said give us whatever we want,” Jaz cut in. To me, “You drink tequila?”

I didn’t, not straight, but I said yes. Hope Adams might not down tequila shots, but I was sure Faith Edmonds would.

Jaz ordered a bottle and Max asked for Scotch.

“Where’s Sonny?” Jaz asked.

“Took off,” Tony said. “Bathroom, maybe.”

We settled in, Jaz, Tony and me at one table, Bianca, Max and Rodriguez at the other.

The server returned.

Jaz stared at the bottle of cheap tequila. “Holy shit, you trying to poison us? The good stuff. The best stuff.”

Her gaze darted around the table. “Mr. Benoit didn’t say-”

“Then call him. Or, better yet…”

He was lifting his cell phone when Sonny appeared, a bottle of Patron Silver tequila in one hand and Glenlivet single-malt Scotch in the other.

“I didn’t trust them to fill the order right,” he said.

“Bro, you are a lifesaver. Grab a seat-” Jaz looked at the three chairs, already taken.

He pushed his chair back and tugged my arm, patting his lap. I obliged as Sonny passed the Scotch to Max, then opened the tequila.

“Guy is going to kick your asses,” Tony said, waving at the bottle.

We glanced at Bianca, waiting for her to tell us to stop.

“Jaz can handle it,” she said, mouth tight as she passed Max her glass.