Hunter owed Abbie an introduction for allowing him to use her as cover. That whole bit about knowing her had probably been a big fat lie just to keep her talking.

Her conscience argued that she’d had a moment of déjà vu, too, when she’d first seen Hunter outside.

Didn’t matter.

She wasn’t asking for much in return and Gwen would be out of reach quickly. “That’s who I want to meet.”

When she didn’t hear a reply, Abbie swung around.

Hunter was gone.

Chapter Seven

Hunter passed through a sea of faces more intent on being recognized by a Wentworth than noticing his retreat from Abbie. When he made it to the next salon, he whipped around the opposite side of a replica of an Elgin marble statue to observe the excited guests.

And one disappointed Abbie.

Dammit.

She would want to meet Gwen. An innocent enough request any other time, but not tonight.

At least his suspicion of Abbie had abated. If she had some ulterior motive for attending beyond stargazing and rubbing elbows with celebrities she’d have dressed to blend in with the other women and wouldn’t have played along so easily with him.

“Regretting your decision to come alone?” Rae had approached quiet as a thought.

“No.” Hunter kept watch so that no one-Abbie in particular-walked up on his conversation. But the entire room had migrated toward Gwenyth, who shimmered in gold and white like a billion-dollar magnet.

Rae offered him the humble smile of a staff member that he wouldn’t trust right now to turn his back on. “I’m okay with you coming solo, too.”

He sent her a look that said he knew better.

“I’m serious.” Rae’s smile took on life in a sly way. “If I’d been assigned to accompany you I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of watching her walk away from you earlier. Must be a new experience for you to get shot down by a mere mortal.”

“I needed a cover to observe someone. Don’t make it out to be more than it was.”

“That’s right.” Rae handed him a napkin and a flute of champagne. “She couldn’t possibly meet your high standards.”

He didn’t want to discuss anything specific to the mission so he ended the conversation by refusing to engage further. Rae knew nothing about him. Bloodline and family ranking were rock-bottom on his give-a-shit list.

Rae started to move away, paused, then swung around and asked, “Excuse me? What did you need?”

He caught the signal. Something she had to share with him was being transmitted between agents. “Couple napkins. Sloshed my drink.”

“Absolutely.” With perfunctory motions, Rae sat her tray on the nearest available surface and strode back to him with a handful of napkins she used to dab at his untouched tuxedo lapel. She spoke softly. “Your new friend just shoved up close to Gwen, made some comment, then stepped away. Gwen looked shocked, then recovered and excused herself. She walked away but told one of her security something he relayed to the woman you were standing with. Who is she?”

Damned if he knew. “Don’t know. That’s what I was trying to figure out.”

“Head of catering’s walking this way,” Rae whispered, then backed up and spoke louder. “Think that got it. Please, excuse me.” She took a couple strides, grabbed her tray, and hurried over to where a gray-haired man in a black suit spoke to several of the staff. Immediate head-bobbing indicated they understood his instructions before the servers dispersed.

Hunter turned back to search for Abbie in the crowd Gwen had abandoned.

Maybe he’d dismissed her too quickly.

His gaze climbed the grand staircase to the upper landing, where the three men Gwen had been meeting with earlier now stood talking. The Italian-looking woman with the wavy shoulder-length black hair wore a demure royal-blue dress with a jacket and stood a step behind the men again. She moved forward and spoke to the man Hunter thought might be Vestavia, who nodded before she descended the staircase on the far side and blended into the crowd.

Could those men be the three Fratelli Linette had indicated would attend?

What of the Italian woman’s identity? Linette?

Hunter couldn’t go up the stairs to investigate until he had the damned package. The signal would be given on the main floor. He had plenty to keep him busy down here until Linette made the drop and sent the signal.

Like finding out why Gwen had disappeared after talking to Abbie.

Abbie clearly hadn’t come to rub elbows with celebrities.

That niggling worry about tonight’s mission crawled up his neck again. He discarded his champagne flute and headed for the throng of people ebbing back into private fissures within the mansion now that Gwen had vanished.

He and Abbie were going to have another chat. One wrong answer and she’d finish the conversation in shackles. He’d taken three steps when someone on the Wentworth serving staff politely inquired, “Have you seen an emerald-and-diamond earring? A guest is missing one of hers.”

Talk about suck timing.

That was Linette’s signal to retrieve the USB memory stick.

Abbie’s heart raced ahead of her feet. She turned sideways, sliding like a flexible knife through the humans cluttering the Wentworth mansion.

Please don’t let her be rushing into a security ambush that would hand her over to law enforcement.

When she reached the far end of the ballroom only a few people littered the hallway. None noticed her. At the next corner, she slowed to move through a hall broken up by four white doors trimmed with intricate gold designs.

One door opened. Abbie’s blood pressure skyrocketed.

The young woman exiting the powder room wore a deep blue knee-length dress better suited to a boardroom than a party.

As they met, Abbie glanced over to take in the exotic female with lush black hair that fell to her shoulders and a petite face that resembled some Italian actress Abbie couldn’t identify. But the curiosity wasn’t returned.

Invisibility had its perks.

As Abbie reached the bathroom entrance, she paused just long enough to check behind her to ensure the Italian beauty had disappeared. She scampered ahead, following the directions Gwen’s security guard had issued in the harsh tone of an order.

Probably because Gwen hadn’t been happy when she’d spoken to him, which would be Abbie’s fault for shocking the color from Gwen’s face.

Two more turns and Abbie located the thick double doors crafted of varnished hickory she’d been told were not locked.

She placed her shaking fingers on a cool bronze handle and pressed her thumb on the lever, which moved smoothly.

Please don’t let an alarm go off.

A small snick sounded then, hallelujah, the door opened.

Gwen hadn’t tricked her. Yet.

A little too late to worry about being arrested for trespassing in a secured area of the mansion.

Still following instructions, Abbie crossed a paneled library that smelled of history and ink, then passed through a set of open glass doors into a sunroom twenty by forty feet. She kept walking across hand-painted tiles and through another set of open doors to a pool and patio area enclosed by a vine-covered stone wall that was chest high and appeared to be more an architectural decoration than a security measure. The fortress-looking wall a hundred feet away and partially hidden by trees should intimidate most of the population out of trespassing.

Armed security took care of the rest.

When Abbie stepped farther onto the patio, heat wafting from the walls warmed her, balancing the chilly evening temperature to a tolerable one. She watched for any sign of alarm or men with radios charging forward.