8. Grayson

8

GRAYSON

S tepping onto thin ice. Forgetting to put the safety on a gun. There have been a lot of times in my life when I realized that I made a mistake a second too late.

Add to that grocery list this particular occasion, where I managed to not only insult Charlotte but her entire career. She hasn’t said a word since we arrived at the Villa. I struggle to find the right words to fix things while I take in Wyatt’s home.

The eccentric former actor has chosen a desolate place for his digs. The villa sits on a rocky cliffside, overlooking a foreboding drop to the ocean below. At this height, it would be like hitting concrete, so if you were unlucky enough not to be knocked unconscious, you would still drown. The lone road leading to his home winds back and forth over itself in a series of hairpin turns.

Yet, it’s obvious that his friends have no compunctions about making the journey. There must be two hundred cars parked on a flat expanse a stone’s throw from the front gate. BMWs, Rolls, and Lambos are in evidence, so there’s a ton of money floating around these parts.

And that means a ton of suspects who might be the financial backers Malloy’s conspiracy minded contact mentioned. Literally anyone here might be working for the Order. Or, possibly, none of them.

Gravel pops under the tires as I pull into an unoccupied spot. Charlotte continues to give me the cold shoulder.

“I’m sorry if I upset you.”

She pauses, and turns a baleful eye on me.

“If?”

I sigh and then nod.

“I’m sorry that I upset you. I get a little intense sometimes, especially when I’m worried.”

“You get a lot intense a lot of the time,” Charlotte replies. “But usually, you don’t turn that intensity on me in a negative way.”

Her pretty face morphs into a deep frown.

“I know it seems silly that I post what I have for breakfast, but it’s my job. It’s enabled me to not only support myself, but to help my parents out, too. They never went to college, they’ve worked low-paying jobs their entire lives.”

The wind picks up off the ocean, bringing the scent of salt and stirring her midnight black hair. She is lovely in the moonlight. Her dress still nearly stops my heart when I slow down and take a look at her.

“If all it takes for my parents to be able to live comfortably is for me to hawk a teriyaki-flavored toothpaste to millions of people, then that’s what I’m going to do. I don’t need your approval, Grayson, but I don’t need your disdain, either.”

I nod. “All right, fair enough. I’m sorry about how that came across. I just want to make sure we’re taking the threat from the Order seriously.”

She blinks her deep brown eyes, and then a smile stretches over her face.

“Thank you. That sounded very sincere. And believe me, I do take the threat seriously, which is why you’re here.”

I gesture toward her to concede the point.

“I do try to be sincere, when I’m not tricking the bad guys.”

Charlotte arches her brows high on her forehead.

“And do you only trick the bad guys?”

“I try to be real whenever possible, but I’m only human.”

I pause for a moment, recalling something she said earlier.

“Teriyaki flavored toothpaste?”

She laughs, dispelling a fraction of the tension.

“It actually tastes better than it sounds, and my teeth have never been whiter thanks to the miswak component.”

“I’ll have to look into it, then.” I nod toward the villa. “Shall we see what Wyatt’s place is like on the inside? From out here it seems like a hell of a party.”

I’m not exaggerating. The thudding bass of music competes with shouting, laughter, and frequent splashes from what I assume to be a swimming pool. Colored searchlights flash and swirl just on the other side of a ten foot high privacy wall.

I offer her my arm. After a moment, she takes it. Her fingertips slide over my sleeve. My pulse quickens, and my senses reel in her intoxicating presence. I can see why so many people want to follow her on the internet. There’s just something special about Charlotte.

As we draw near the marble steps leading up to the entrance, I increase my level of vigilance. I’m taking the woman I’m supposed to protect with my life into a potential den of danger. I could be putting her right in the hands of the Order, if I’m not careful.

Two big bruisers flank the double doors, thrown open to allow the vanilla smoke and chaotic ambiance of the party to spill out into the night. I take in subtle clues from their appearance to assess their threat level.

They’re big, and I’m sure there's strength to back up their bulk. However, the skin on the backs of their hands is smooth, rather than scarred with frequent brawling. Their noses don’t have the telltale bend of a deviated septum, and the way they stand suggests their muscles are more for show than anything else.

If I have to, I can take them out swiftly, but I don't expect to. The Aegis Order would employ people who can blend in seamlessly with normal society. These behemoths stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.

Charlotte beams a smile at the bouncers. In spite of their seeming grimness, they both smile back. She really does have that effect on people.

“Hi,” she says in a lilting, bubbly tone that’s sweet enough to rot my teeth. “I’ve got my invitation right heeereee….”

She shows them her phone. One of the bouncers scans it, checks the results, and nods.

“You can go right in, Ms. Paltrow.”

“Thank you so much!”

She presses a hundred dollar bill into his palm, then turns and offers another to his fellow.

“You guys work so hard, you’re awesome!”

“Thanks, Ma’am,” the two behemoths say in unison. As we enter the manor house, Charlotte notices me giving her a stare.

“What?” she asks.

“I know you meant well, and are just trying to blend in. But now those two bouncers will undoubtedly remember us if someone asks. Otherwise, they might have forgotten us altogether.”

Charlotte’s gaze narrows.

“I got us in, didn’t I? Look, if there’s one rule in Hollywood, it’s take care of the staff. They’re the ones who can help…or hinder you the most.”

I start to argue, but she puts a finger against my lips. The suddenness of the gesture, the warmth of her flesh against mine, steals my breath away.

“Shhh. When we’re in your world, I’ll accept you’re the expert, but right now we’re in mine.”

She takes my hand and leads me into the wonderland of Wyatt’s crazy party. I’ve been to bashes thrown by Sheiks in Abu Dhabi that lasted for days, and yet I’ve never seen anything quite like this.

The entrance leads directly into a ballroom, with twin sweeping grand staircases flanking either side of the chamber. Bodies swirl and gyrate on the dance floor as industrial music pulses through the air. I can feel the percussion in my stomach as Charlotte leads me onward.

Beyond the ballroom, we go through a set of glass doors and find ourselves in a courtyard dominated by an olympic style swimming pool. At first, I think that the pool is covered with dead leaves. But then I realize the water is stark white, too.

“What in the Hell is going on?”

“Hmm? Oh, I saw this online before.” Charlotte squats carefully down, smoothing the hem of her skirt. She thrusts her hand into the churning morass and scoops some up for my inspection.

“Is that…corn flakes?”

“Yeah. Sometimes Wyatt fills up his pool with weird stuff. Once, he filled it with Coke.”

I do a double take. “For real? That must have cost millions.”

She frowns, and then burbles with laughter as light dawns in her eyes.

“Oh my god, I mean Coca Cola, not cocaine! Wyatt is nuts, but he’s not nuts enough to do that AND post it on the internet for everyone to see.”

She throws the corn flakes back into the pool and dries her hand on a nearby towel.

“I can’t imagine soft drinks are good for the skin.”

“No, they aren’t,” she says with a chuckle. “One of Wyatt’s guests sued, because he got a bad rash after swimming in the soda.”

I crane my neck and look around the party. I see performance artists wearing only deer antlers and gold body paint, a circle of suited businessmen who look weirdly out of place, and more wildly-clad party-goers than I can categorize, but I don’t see Wyatt himself.

I don’t like this situation at all. Any one of these people could come up on us and stick a knife in Charlotte’s chest before I could react. I have to fall back on my instincts, and hope they’re better than the day my sister died.

“You don’t see Wyatt anywhere, do you?” I ask over the chaotic din.

“No, but from what I understand he roams around a lot at these parties. If we keep moving, we’ll probably run into him, eventually. Do you really think he could be involved with the Order?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to think at this point.”

I sigh and shake my head.

“I don’t see anybody with a laptop or other hacking gear, either. Not that they’d be doing it out in the open, but…with this crowd, who knows?”

“I think we might have a problem figuring out who hacked our feed. Look.”

I follow her pointing, lacquered red nail to a ten foot wide chalkboard. In addition to some intricate chalk medium art, some of it pornographic, there’s the stem and arches Wi-Fi symbol and the word freebird69 next to it.

“He broadcasts his wifi password to every person who walks in the door.”

There is a touch of annoyance in my tone. I shouldn’t have expected it to be easy. Nothing ever is.

Except for one thing. Being around Charlotte might be the easiest thing I’ve ever done…and also the hardest. I’m supposed to be guarding her, not lusting after her. Yes, she’s gorgeous, and has a core of solid steel beneath all the soft curves, but that doesn’t mean she’s right for me.

And how can I possibly be right for her? I’ve been places and done things. I tried to keep innocents from getting hurt along the way. I largely succeeded.

Until my sister.

“What’s wrong?”

Charlotte’s voice snaps me out of the dark spiral before I get too far down.

“Nothing. Let’s look for Wyatt.”

We roam around the party for a bit longer. The Villa looked huge from the outside. It’s somehow even bigger once you’re inside of it. There must be close to five hundred people here, more than some of the giant dance clubs in LA can hold.

I’m starting to think we’ll never find Wyatt. We pass through a propped open door and find ourselves in a hallway slightly more quiet than the rest of the house. Only a few guests deign to hang out in the hall. We walk down its length, passing a row of floor-length, arched windows that display the sea on one side and the bedlam of Wyatt’s party on the other.

The hall turns abruptly right near the manor’s northern end. We turn the corner and find ourselves in a grand game room, dominated by no less than a dozen full sized billiards tables.

Charlotte gets on her tiptoes and leans her softness against me. Sweat breaks out on my brow as her soft breath tickles my ear with a whisper.

“The man in the red jacket is Wyatt.”

My gaze seeks him out. Wyatt stands about six and a half feet tall, rail-thin, with a puff of unruly white hair crowning his head. His jacket looks like something Hugh Hefner would have worn in the 70s, and clashes completely with the blue jeans and retro T-shirt covering the rest of his body.

His glazed-over eyes seem unfocused even as he talks to one of his guests. Wyatt leans on his pool cue, bending the tapered end into a slight curve.

“Well, let’s go say hello.”

We approach Wyatt. I keep watch on the partygoers, to see if anyone pays too much attention to us. That might be a sign that some of these drunken revelers aren’t so inebriated, and possibly belong to the cult.

Yet, no one seems to bat an eye as we stride right up to the man himself. He turns toward us, blinking rapidly.

“Hello there,” he says, his eyes running up and down Charlotte’s form. He’s certainly into girls, something I wouldn't have expected by his exaggerated and somewhat exuberant mannerisms. “Are you enjoying the party, my dear?”

His voice wavers, and he can barely hold himself upright.

“Oh, it’s just the best! There are so many fabulous people here.”

His smile widens, and he gestures with his drink, sloshing some onto his shirt.

“I try to find the most interesting people. If they happen to be famous, great, but there are so many people here that aren’t famous, yet are still interesting. You feel me? When you can find a harmonic convergence with another individual, does it matter if they sleep on silk sheets or a bus stop floor?”

Charlotte smiles prettily, but I can see it in her eyes that she’s utterly confused. I kind of am, too. Obviously, Wyatt isn’t all there.

Unless, of course, it’s all an act…

I step up to Wyatt and thrust my hand out.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve been following you for ages.”

“It’s my pleasure too, young man,” Wyatt says, giving me the most limp wristed handshake I’ve ever experienced.

“Finding a person of your caliber is a tall Order.”

I carefully study his reaction. Or should I say, the lack thereof. He just continues smiling and giving me that weak hand shake. Either he’s got nerves of steel, or he’s just a drugged out fading movie auteur with too much time on his hands.

I keep going, trying to get more out of him, but Wyatt is easily distracted. He straight up wanders off, going to stare through one of the windows at a man eating fire by the pool.

We hang out in the game room for a while but Wyatt never does anything that makes me connect him with the Aegis Order.

There’s a damn good chance that someone affiliated with the Order is at this party. Right here, right now. But Wyatt isn’t going to give me anything tonight, and more aggressive interrogative measures will only get us noticed, and likely spook our quarry into a disappearing act before we even get close.

There are other ways to find the Order. Harlowe might find something, Malloy is keeping his ear to the ground. I still haven’t exhausted all of my resources from my days in intelligence.

I am not giving up yet, but I am giving up on this party. Frustrated, I take Charlotte's hand.

“You want to get out of here?”

She nods, giving Wyatt one last look.

“I wish we could have found something useful. I guess this has all been a huge waste of our time.”

I shrug. “I don’t know about that, Sunshine. I got to see you in that dress, so that’s a win.”

Charlotte stops, and her hand slips out of mine. Her brown eyes stare widely into my own.

Did I just go too far?