The Professional

“It’s all prepared.”

“Then move ahead.”

* * *

Max couldn’t shake the sense that something was out of his reach. He knew that sense—and trusted it to the very depths of his being—which was why he kept up a continuous walk of the perimeter of the ballroom.

The wedding had technically entered its last hour, and he was counting down the minutes to getting them all out of there. He didn’t care if Violet fought him like a she-cat. He was dragging her out the moment they kicked the last guest toward the hotel elevators, or what would likely be a drunken, snaking taxi line. She could come back in the morning and manage any required follow-up.

Things always looked better in daylight.

Which was a fallacy, he well knew. He’d spent many an op during his time in the Army Corps of Engineers in broad daylight and an equal number in those silent hours after midnight. Both could do irreparable damage.

He passed the open ballroom doors, his gaze alighting on the bar, still two and three deep with wedding guests. The image of the guy on the couch nagged at him, and Max headed for the harried row of bartenders still mixing drinks.

A manager he’d noted earlier had added to his duties by bar-backing, and he’d just arrived with two fresh bottles of liquid courage. Max waited until the man logged the liquor before waving him over.

“Hey man, I know you’re busy. I need to ask you something.”

“You’re with the planners, right?” The guy offered a tired smile before he stuck out his hand. “Zach Turner. We do a heck of a lot of events with Elegance and Lace, and they run a smooth party.”

“A rather wild one, if the fact your bartenders haven’t stopped serving is any indication.”

Zach tossed a smile over his shoulder. “Wild, yes. Great tips, an even bigger yes.”

“Did you notice the man out here earlier? Older than the frat boys in the wedding party but not an old relative, if you know what I mean?”

“Elegant guy? Sort of blended in if you didn’t look too hard.” Zach snapped his fingers. “Saw him on the couch over there just before that brawl lit up.”

“That’s the one.”

Max waited another few beats, curious to see if the man made the same connections he had before he inadvertently led the witness.

“Odd guy. He mingled for a bit, talking up the wedding party. I kept an eye on him for a while, not sure if he was hitting on the crowd or trying to pick a few pockets.”

At what Max could only assume was a wash of shock and surprise on his face, Zach continued. “Oh yeah, it happens way more often than you think. People come to a nice event and no one thinks too much about their wallets and purses. But old Uncle Nicky or crazy Aunt Sally sure as hell do.”

Max shook his head, the shock fading into that strange sort of acceptance that came with seeing far too much. “People are an endless surprise.”

“Always. But I’ve been doing this for nearly thirty years. I can usually pick out Cousin Sticky Fingers at twenty paces. Guy gave me an odd vibe, but not a sticky one.”

“What sort of vibe did he give you?”

Zach’s dark gaze narrowed before awareness lit him up like a lightning strike. “You concerned the fight had some chemical enhancement?”

“Yep. No doubt about it. The paramedics didn’t say much, but it was all over the guy’s blown pupils and dead faint to the floor.”

“Well, hell.” Zach gestured toward the long hallway that extended off the ballroom lobby. “Let me hook you up with house security.”

* * *

Violet drifted through her various roles as the wedding wound down. She confirmed with Lilah the top layer of cake was already preserved for the couple’s first anniversary, while the rest of the cake was sliced and individually packaged and waiting for guests to take as they departed. She smiled as the DJ counted off the number of songs left until the big finale, a slow, torchy number that would send the happy couple off on their week-long honeymoon. And she got a full update from the caterer on where they stood on a count of the bar bill.

And silently credited the family’s foresight to go with a flat price per head.

While she appreciated the hearty flow of liquor would no doubt leave a horde of satisfied partygoers in its wake, she immediately shifted her direction to confirm the taxi line was in place and the staff had all eyes on anyone who shouldn’t have keys in hand.

A good number of guests had also reserved rooms at the hotel, which went a long way toward assuaging her concern, but there was still margin for error. Many guests had driven, and they needed a sober driver to make it home.

“This one was a humdinger, Miss Richardson,” the hotel’s doorman boomed at her when she passed, his smile as bright as when she’d walked in at noon.

“That it was, Carl. You keeping an eye on the departures for me?”

“Always. Boss added two extra pairs of eyes on valet, too.”

“Good.”

She kept on toward the exit, the taxi stand housing only two waiting guests who’d obviously decided to skip the rush.

“It was a wonderful evening,” a tottering woman gushed. “I want my son and his fiancée to call you. Do you have a card?”

With a rueful smile for the woman’s husband, Violet pulled a card out of her suit jacket pocket. More than half their business came from satisfied guests who wanted a similar event for themselves, and Violet couldn’t stop the spear of pride at a job well done, despite the craziness that had descended on their lives in the past few weeks. “We’d be delighted to discuss your son’s event.”

The woman’s husband deposited her in a cab as she still hollered about booking an appointment, and Violet could give herself only a moment to watch the proceedings as she waved them off.

Damn, she loved her job.

It was crazy and nuts and often stressful, but she loved it. And she knew she’d found a purpose for her life.

Giggles echoed off the concave ceiling of the porte cochere, and she stepped back to let a tumble of two bridesmaids and three groomsmen hit the taxi line.

“Fun time, Violet.” One of the bridesmaids, named Macy, tossed a pointed look at a groomsman she’d had her eye on all day before pulling Violet in for a big hug. “Fun time.”

“Where are you off to?”

“Uptown for a nightcap.”

Violet suspected she knew what would come after the nightcap and simply waved them on, pleased they were still smart enough to keep the night going in taxis. The lack of a car now meant they’d need another cab for their return trip, which meant she could relax another notch.

“Have fun.”

Macy giggled in her ear, her whisper louder than the woman likely planned. “I mean to.”

They all piled into a minivan cab and off to whatever came next, and Violet gave herself another moment, surprised at the hard clench that tightened her rib cage. The same melancholy that had come over her inside the wedding while hugging the bride hit her once more, the jab swift.

Where had those days gone? The carefree ones that didn’t have an overarching tinge of disappointment or the fear time was marching on without her?

When had thirty begun to feel ancient?