"Because you listened to all of that."

"Wait a sec-" Jason started to interrupt.

Washington ignored him. "You listened to all of that, and you're not doing anything about it yet."

Jason's jaw dropped open.

Washington paused, and when he spoke, it was in the rich voice of a lecturer. "Edward, I realize you don't know Jason Palmer, and that must make it hard to believe what he's said. But you know me." Washington put a warm hand on Jason's shoulder. "And I'm telling you that his word is all you need."

The party still swirled around them, but for Jason, the world had come down to this single minute. His chest swelled, and his vision went swimmy around the edges. He could feel the rush of blood in his veins, the stickiness of his palms.

Then the alderman nodded. He spoke slowly, saying, "All right, Washington. All right." He turned to Jason. "I'll need all the details you can give me."

Jason wanted to throw his head back and whoop. They'd done it. Maybe their luck was finally changing. He gave Cruz a giddy smile.

Only she wasn't looking at him. Instead, she stared the opposite direction, her mouth open. "What?" He followed her gaze to the entrance of the room.

And realized their luck wasn't changing at all.

CHAPTER 41

The first reaction was fear, an animal panic that made the air hum and buzz, that slowed time, the world gone languid as his instincts screamed for flight.

The second was the copper taste of murder in his mouth. A primal rage, a desire to beat and smash and kill.

Fingers clenched white, stomach loose and warm, Jason stood rooted, staring at the man in the doorway.

An evil spirit in a cheap suit, only this time Anthony DiRisio wore a tuxedo over heavy slabs of muscle. Five o'clock shadow and thin black hair, a nose too large and bent slightly sideways. He stood at the entrance, his eyes scanning the crowd, moving slow and precise. A predator's gaze, working right to left.

"Mr. Palmer?" Owens asked, one eyebrow high.

Jason shook his head, yanked himself out of his stupor. Turned so his back faced the door. "DiRisio." He grimaced. "He must have been watching my apartment after all, and followed us here." Something nagged at him, a detail he couldn't put his finger on. It felt important, but refused to clarify. Maybe something he'd seen on the drive over?

"The arms dealer? Here?"

"Yes. Mr. Alderman, we have to get my nephew and get out of here."

"Your nephew?"

"My brother's son. He's here." Jason clenched his lips, risked a quick glance over his shoulder. DiRisio had vanished in the crowd. "Sir, we have to go. Can we continue some place more private?"

"All right." Owens looked at his second, who frowned. "Daryl's right. I should probably say a few good-byes. It will look strange if I don't. Twenty minutes?"

Jason nodded. "Fine. Where can we regroup?"

"My car is in the service garage. A black Towncar. But how will you get past your man?"

"We'll figure something out."

The alderman smiled. "I'm glad a soldier is on the job." He turned to Thomas. "Let's make the rounds quickly, shall we?"

Jason watched them go. He'd done it. Joy bubbled up within his chest, and he turned back to his friends. Cruz grinned a hundred-watts worth. Washington put a hand on his shoulder. "Good work, son. I'm proud of you." He looked Jason square in the eye. "Your brother would be, too."

Something swelled in Jason's chest, something fluttery and luminous, and he felt the muscles of his cheeks pull into a too-wide smile. He held out a hand, and Washington took it, then pulled him into a hug. The familiar tang of Old Spice filled his nostrils, a safe, comforting smell. He wanted to linger, to laugh and toast their success.

But DiRisio was out there.

Jason stepped back, grimaced. "I'm sorry, but we should-"

"I know, son. Go."

Jason squeezed his shoulder, touched Cruz's arm, the skin soft and warm, and then he stepped into the thick of the crowd. Where would Billy be? The air had the recycled smell of a too-full party, cut by the chaotic tinkling of women's laughter. There weren't any other children around. It was too crowded for DiRisio to try anything, or at least he hoped so. Still, he wouldn't feel better until he found his nephew. He started for the buffet, where Ronald had last seen Billy.

But there was no sign of the boy. He felt his heart quicken. He couldn't risk calling out. DiRisio could be stalking this same ground. But where would the boy be?

Then he had a thought, and dropped to a squat. A small pair of shoes were barely visible beneath the table. Jason parted the tablecloth. Billy looked up, his smile blooming like a flower. He wore a tuxedo and a clip-on bow tie. Now in robot form, the Transformer wreaked havoc on a landscape of baguette slices and gouda cubes.

Jason's heart climbed his chest, buoyed by a wave of pure warmth. If this was what responsibility meant, he could get used to it. "Hey, kiddo."

"Uncle Jason!" The boy leaned forward and threw his arms around Jason's neck. "I missed you."

"Me too." He tousled Billy's hair. Part of him wanted to crawl under the table with him, but there wasn't time. Soon, though. They were almost finished. "We gotta go, buddy. You ready?"

Billy nodded, released his arms, and climbed out, carrying the toy by one robotic arm. Jason stood, trying to at once scan the room and remain inconspicuous. At least DiRisio didn't know Billy was here. He kept to the fringe of the crowd, moving against the windowed walls.

Ronald stood in the corner, Cruz beside him, her features drawn with worry. She brightened when she saw him. Jason spotted Washington, nodded toward the others, and he joined them.

"Now what?" Cruz had moved so her back was to the room. "Out the front door?"

Where would DiRisio be? Jason put himself in the other man's position. "No. He doesn't know we spotted him, and the crowd is tough to move through. His best bet would be to watch that door."

"So what then?"

A harried server pushed past him, balancing a tray of desserts. He saw Cruz looking at it, met her eyes, both of them smiling. "Let's go."

The servant's entrance was marked by a set of swinging kitchen doors. Beyond lay a bright white hallway, the lush atmosphere of the ballroom replaced by rubber-mat floors and fluorescent lights. A row of six-foot service carts held the remnants of dinner, half-eaten steaks in pools of béarnaise, abandoned vegetables. Two Hispanic guys in spattered aprons and hairnets leaned against the wall, laughing at something. They froze as the doors opened. One of them said something in Spanish, then, "Bathroom other way."

Cruz pulled her badge from her purse. "Policía." The men looked at one another nervously, and she let them. "¿Dónde está el elevador?" The larger of the two waved down the hall. She nodded curtly.

The service elevators were built for functionality, with worn linoleum floors and scuffed walls. The five of them stepped aboard, gestured away a pretty maid who started to follow, pressed the door close button.

Jason leaned against the back wall. Let himself breathe. They'd done it. Somehow, against all odds, they'd done it. He felt a smile creeping onto his face, and a weird sense of lightness in his limbs. He looked up to find Cruz smiling, too. That good smile, the one he liked.

"Come here," he said, not caring that the others could see.

One side of her lips curled higher than the other. "You."

They met halfway.

"Why aren't you coming home now?" Billy looked up at him with guileless eyes.

"I will soon, buddy. We're almost done."

"Did you get the, the uh-"