Page 44 of Velvet Vaughn

Chapter Eight

The valet brought the Range Rover around at 11:47, which Anja knew because she’d checked her watch twice in the last ten minutes and pretended she hadn’t.

The gala had run long. Longer than she’d budgeted for. Dinner had stretched into dessert, dessert into the foundation’s presentation, and the presentation into a round of applause before the gradual reshuffling of a room full of people who had drinks to finish. Devonte had presented his foundation’s check with Andrea at his side and a smile so practiced and complete that nobody in the ballroom would’ve suspected he’d spent the day managing a threat to his family.

Anja had looked at him and seen exactly that.

Leo tipped the valet and held the passenger door as she climbed inside. The April air off the street had that spring-night quality, cool and damp and faintly green, and it cleared her head somewhat. Leo slid into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirror out of habit, and pulled into the light Saturday traffic without speaking.

She appreciated that about him. He didn’t fill the silence because he was uncomfortable. He left it where it was and let her work in it.

“What did Devonte say?”

Leo told her about the package delivered to Devonte’s mom’s house in Baton Rouge with no return address and the photograph of his sister at college with a red circle drawn around her head.

Anja had noticed how well Leo handled the conversation as it was happening, and it was better than most trained agents could have managed. He’d kept his face neutral, his tone casual, and his hands loose on the table. He’d given Devonte the only thing that actually mattered in that moment, which was the assurance that someone knew and was going to do something about it.

Trust me was the right call. Tonight wasn’t the place for the full picture.

Tomorrow would require a different conversation.

“You were good in there,” she told him.

Leo glanced over briefly. “With Devonte?”

“With all of it.” She turned to face him. “You held your cover through five hours at a table with people you’ve known for years. That’s not easy.”

“It was a little easier after the third time Brad Hatton told the same story about a contract negotiation in Tampa.” He checked his mirror and changed lanes. “I’ve heard it a dozen times. I know how it ends. The suspense is gone.”

She chuckled. “I wasn’t paying attention. How does it end?”

“He wins. He always wins. The other party inexplicably forgets every piece of clout they came in with, and Brad emerges victorious before taking everyone to dinner where he orders the most expensive thing on the menu.” He paused. “In fairness, he does pick up the check pretty often.”

“So he’s not without virtue.”

“He has only that one redeeming quality, and he deploys it strategically.”

Anja laughed as she filed that away, along with everything else she’d noted about Brad Hatton throughout the evening. His nervous energy during cocktails had leveled off by the time dinner was served, which meant whatever he’d been watching for either hadn’t materialized or had resolved itself in a way she couldn’t see from her seat. Or he had been drunk and didn’t care. She’d put money on the latter.

She wanted Tyler to run Brad Hatton’s financials, but not tonight. There was a more immediate problem.

“Devonte’s sister,” she began. “Is she close with the family?”

“Deja.” Leo nodded. “Twenty-two, pre-med at Tulane. She and Devonte talk at least twice a week, and she talks daily with her mom.” He braked at a light. “But she loves being on her own. She’s not going to want to leave her dorm.”

“She doesn’t have to want to, but she still has to do it.”

“I know.” He sighed. “How do we make that happen without telling her everything?”

“We tell her enough. A credible threat against a public figure’s family member doesn’t need a full explanation to justify a temporary relocation. We move her with the family, we give her a reason that holds up under a twenty-two-year-old’s scrutiny, and we keep tabs on her.”

The Central West End neighborhood came into view ahead of them, the late-night bars still lit. A few people on the sidewalks were making their way home. “And Devonte’s mother? She’s not going to want to leave at all. She grew up in that house.”

Anja had run through the options three times since dinner. “She’s seen the photo of her daughter, so she knows there’s a threat out there. We tell her we’re moving her entire family into a safe house until the person can be caught.”

“Can you do that?”

“I can make a call tonight.”