CHAPTER 27
Aaron turned his head.
John stepped unhurriedly onto the balcony — his hair impeccably styled, an expensive suit perfectly fitted, a faint smirk playing on his face. He stopped by the railing as though the entire evening had been arranged solely for his benefit.
“I hope your boss finally stops kissing our asses,” he remarked lazily.
“Is that why you came up here?”
“Why not?” King adjusted the lapel of his jacket. “When you have money, other people take care of your problems. I can afford to relax.”
“Then I won't keep you from it.”
Aaron turned back toward the hall, but John's voice came again from behind him.
“You know... I've been trying to figure out what's different about you tonight.”
He leaned against the railing and clasped his hands together.
“You usually at least pretend you don't care about anything. But tonight...” John tilted his head slightly, studying his face. “Tonight you're in an exceptionally bad mood.”
Aaron inhaled slowly through his nose.
“Finished?”
King merely smiled.
“Almost.”
He picked up an empty champagne glass from the nearby table and idly turned it in his hand.
“Enjoying the charity gala that much?” he asked with a quiet chuckle.
Aaron's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly against the fabric of his pocket.
“No, I'm genuinely curious.” John shrugged lazily. “Normally you look at events like this as though you'd rather be anywhere else. But tonight you even decided to relax.”
He stepped closer until there was almost no space between them.
“So much so that you emptied your champagne in one swallow.”
The bitterness of the champagne still lingered on Aaron's tongue.
“Although there is one strange thing...” John continued slyly, resting a hand on Aaron's shoulder. “For someone who's trying to relax, you keep looking in the same direction. If I didn't know you so well, I'd think you'd finally noticed our beautiful redhead.”
Something beneath Aaron's ribs tightened with growing irritation.
“But no...” John slowly shook his head. “Every time, you're looking past her.”
Aaron's jaw locked so tightly he had to force himself to unclench it.
King leaned close enough that his lips were almost brushing Aaron's ear and whispered with open contempt,
“And what exactly did you see...”
For one brief moment, Aaron thought he already knew where this was going.
“...in that pathetic...”
The breath never reached his lungs.
“...Parker?”
Aaron's hand seized John's collar before he had finished speaking.
He yanked him forward so violently that one of the buttons tore free from John's shirt.
“One more time,” Aaron said quietly, looking straight into his eyes. “Call him that one more time...”
There was almost no distance left between their faces.
“...and I'll break more than just your nose.”
For several seconds, John simply stared at him.
Then, slowly, far too smugly, he smiled. As though this had been exactly what he'd wanted.
“So that's it...”
His smile widened.
“So I wasn't imagining things after all.”
He tilted his head slightly, making no attempt to free himself.
“Detective... are you threatening me?”
“King.” A quiet, colorless voice interrupted them. “Your father is waiting. It's time to go on stage.”
John didn't take his eyes off Aaron immediately.
“Already?”
Only then did Aaron glance toward the balcony entrance.
Lucas Griffin stood in the doorway wearing a waiter's uniform, a tray balanced in his hands. The glasses resting on it trembled ever so slightly.
He looked as inconspicuous as ever.
John clicked his tongue irritably before finally turning toward Lucas.
“I asked for five minutes.”
Griffin lowered his eyes without a word.
“As always...” John muttered bitterly, pulling his collar free from Aaron's grip. “The second I disappear, everyone starts looking for me. Fine. Let's go.”
***
The music fell silent, and a murmur swept through the hall. Guests began drifting toward the stage, gradually filling the open space. Someone bumped Rick's shoulder. Someone else squeezed past with a quiet apology. Step by step, it became more crowded around him.
The display counted down the final minutes as two men with equally proud bearing climbed confidently onto the stage — Michael and Jonathan King. The spotlights immediately pulled them out of the crowd, as though everything else in the hall had ceased to exist.
“And here come the peacocks themselves,” Emma muttered, puffing out her lips before nudging Parker in the side with her elbow.
“Yeah...” he answered distractedly.
“Good evening, distinguished guests!” The amplified voice rang through the hall, and the crowd erupted into applause. The mayor wore an expensive smile, as though tonight were his own private celebration. “I know what you're all waiting for, but first I'd like to hand the floor over to my son, Jonathan...”
Rick looked up toward the balcony.
Empty.
He rose onto his toes, trying to see over the heads in front of him.
The balcony.
The staircase.
The passageway along the wall.
People continued pressing toward the stage, and with every passing second, the view grew worse.
“...over the past few years, our foundation...”
John's voice gradually dissolved into the general hum.
Someone stopped almost shoulder to shoulder with him. A stranger's elbow brushed against his forearm, forcing him back half a step. There were already more people behind him. A moment later, he was gently pushed forward again. Rick turned his head one way, then the other, searching for even the smallest gap between shoulders and backs. Nothing.
The air was growing heavy. The perfume, the wine, the warmth of the crowded hall suddenly felt far too close. Rick rubbed the knuckles of one hand with the thumb of the other. The collar of his shirt pressed uncomfortably against his neck. He tried to take a deeper breath, but his chest refused to fully expand.
“...thanks to every one of you...”
Another wave of applause rolled through the hall. The crowd swayed forward, carrying him with it. Someone's shoulder pressed into his back. Someone else's elbow struck his side. There was almost no room left around him.
Rick rose onto his toes again.
Nothing.
His eyes swept quickly over the faces around him.
One.
Another.
Ten more.
Strangers' smiles.
Unfamiliar conversations.
Camera flashes.
They were all beginning to blur together.
Almost unconsciously, his fingers reached for his collar. Suddenly, the top button felt far too tight.
He tried once more to find even the smallest opening between the people.
Then he saw him.
First — Those gray-blue eyes.
Then the tall figure moving confidently through the crowd straight toward him.
At last, air filled his lungs.
Rick let out a slow breath, only then realizing he'd been taking short, shallow breaths the entire time.
Aaron moved quickly, paying no attention to the annoyed looks around him. He had to physically part people's shoulders with his hands. Someone clicked their tongue in irritation. Someone turned to glare after him. He didn't even look.
John's drawn-out speech echoed from the stage. Every word grated against Aaron's ears, but he barely listened. His entire focus rested on a single point ahead.
Suddenly, the crowd burst into applause.
Everyone lurched forward at once. There was even less room. Someone's back blocked his path completely. Another person slammed into his shoulder. Aaron tried to slip around them, but there was no space left. He pushed forward again, only to be forced back immediately.
“Detective...” A quiet voice sounded behind him. “Where are you hurrying off to?”
Aaron recognized the voice before he even turned.
Something inside him dropped.
He looked over his shoulder and met Riley's eyes.
The man stood very close, wearing the same unreadable expression, as though he'd ended up here by pure coincidence.
Aaron's gaze immediately slid past him, moving over the faces around them, instinctively searching the crowd for a second figure.
Austin was nowhere to be seen.
A tightness settled painfully across his chest. His hand instinctively reached for his belt.
His fingers found nothing. Only then did he remember. His gun was still in the car.
Damn.
The crowd continued swaying slowly. Shoulders pressed against his back and arms, leaving almost no room to move. The air between the people seemed to grow thicker.
Aaron straightened his chest, trying to take a deeper breath.
The inhale came up short.
“You're not enjoying the speech?” Riley asked.
His voice sounded just as indifferent as it had back at the hotel.
Lake let the silence linger, never taking his eyes off him.
“Do we know each other?”
“No.”
Riley gave the slightest shake of his head.
“I'm only here to deliver a message.”
The pieces fell into place immediately, leaving a dull ache beneath Aaron's ribs.
If Riley was here...Austin was somewhere else.
Onstage, John was already pacing confidently before the microphone, smiling at the guests.
“And now...” His voice rolled through the hall. “I'm ready to announce the amount we've raised. But first, I'd like to say that whatever the final sum may be... my father has generously agreed to double it!”
The hall erupted into applause once more.
“Look at him, groveling up there...” Emma muttered with a grimace.
“Yeah.” Rick snorted, folding his arms across his chest.
“Years go by, and it's always the same—'Dad this,' 'Dad that...'”
Rick chuckled quietly.
“I can't listen to that disgusting voice for another minute!” Emma spun sharply toward the exit and threw over her shoulder, “I think I'm going to be sick!”
“Wait! Where are you going by yourself?” Rick called after her.
But Emma had already slipped away, her emerald dress flashing once before disappearing through the doors.
“For fuck's sake... Wait for me!”
He started after her, but glanced back over his shoulder.
His eyes immediately caught on Aaron.
There was some man standing in front of him, though he was almost completely hidden by the broad back of one of the guests. Rick could only see Aaron — His tense shoulders. His straight back. His unwavering stare.
“A message?” Lake said calmly. “I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else.”
“I don't think so.”
Riley's expression didn't change in the slightest.
“I just wanted to remind you that sometimes it's better not to stick your nose where it doesn't belong. Some things are safer left alone.”
Aaron remained silent, feeling his fingers curl into a fist on their own.
So they had been watching.
Not coincidence.
Not suspicion.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
Riley continued looking at him with the same detached indifference, as though they were discussing something perfectly ordinary.
“You do.”
He tilted his head to one side, and his neck cracked audibly.
The sound echoed in Aaron's ears.
“You just prefer pretending you don't. But you know curiosity can become very expensive.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Especially when other people might end up paying the price for it.”
Lake didn't move.
“Your redheaded friend...”
His breathing remained steady, though the pressure around his chest tightened little by little.
“The young trainee.”
Riley watched him carefully.
No reaction.
Then he leaned just a little closer.
“Or...”
Aaron's heart slammed heavily against his ribs.
“...your photographer?”
Aaron's head turned by itself.
His gaze tore frantically across the crowd.
People applauded, talked, laughed, raised their glasses.
Shoulders.
Faces.
Evening gowns.
Flashes of smiling mouths.
Everything blurred into one dense current.
Rick was gone.
Only a second ago he'd been standing beside Emma. Now that space was empty.
The air caught sharply beneath Aaron's ribs.
“What is it, Detective?” Riley asked quietly. “Lose someone?”
But Lake no longer heard him.
***
Outside, it was damp and bitterly cold. A fine drizzle hung in the air, settling on their hair and collars. After the stifling heat of the hall, the cold felt especially sharp.
He and Emma rounded the back of city hall. The muffled voices of the guests and occasional bursts of laughter still carried from inside, but the street itself seemed almost deserted. In the distance, beneath the yellow glow of a streetlamp, someone hurried toward a car. Farther away, two people smoked beneath an awning, paying no attention to anyone around them.
Rick looked around.
Parked cars lined the road, along with several taxis with fogged-up windows and a battered delivery van bearing the peeling logo "Dumpfield Trees".
His gaze lingered on it for only a second.
He had no idea why.
Aaron flashed through his mind again.
That unfamiliar man.
The tense shoulders.
The rigid back.
Something didn’t add up.
Rick couldn’t shake the feeling that he had missed something important.
Emma doubled over, and he instinctively held her hair back.
“I always knew John was unbearable... but I didn’t think he could literally make someone sick...”
He fell silent.
The wind stirred the wet branches.
Rick looked down the street once more.
Too quiet.
“Sorry...” Emma groaned, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “I had a little too much...”
“It’s fine. It happens,” Rick breathed, trying to smile. “Let’s go back inside, okay?”
“God... I feel awful. I’m going to die...” She grimaced and held out her hand. “Be a friend and give me a cigarette.”
“You still haven’t quit?”
“And you have? As long as I’ve known you, you’ve been choking on that crap.”
Rick gave a quiet laugh.
“Fair enough.”
He took out the pack, pulled out a cigarette, and handed it to her.
“Here.”
“Thanks...”
Emma brought it to her lips.
“Do you actually want to quit?”
Rick pulled out a second cigarette and rolled it between his fingers.
“I’ve tried a few times.”
Emma exhaled a stream of smoke and smiled faintly for the first time since they’d come outside.
“I’m guessing it didn’t work?”
Rick only shrugged as he slipped the pack back into his pocket.
“As you can see.”
A shadow moved behind him.
Parker barely had time to turn.
A heavy body slammed into him with enough force to lift his feet off the ground.
“Emma! Run!”
They hit the ground almost at the same time. Rick instinctively grabbed at the stranger’s sleeve, desperate to hold on to something.
The face was right in front of his.
The scar.
Austin.
The blow landed beneath his ribs.
The air vanished.
Rick’s mouth fell open as he tried to breathe, but his lungs refused to work. All that came out was a dull, broken rasp.
The next punch struck his face.
A deafening ringing filled his ears.
He didn’t even understand when he was slammed against the brick wall. His cheek scraped across the rough surface, his skin burned, and something warm ran down his chin.
No...
So fast...
His thoughts tangled together. Nothing but brief, broken flashes. He hadn’t even had time to feel afraid—his body already no longer belonged to him.
A hand closed around his throat.
Fingers dug in beneath his jaw.
Rick jerked, but the grip only tightened.
Austin lifted him off the ground with ease.
The toes of Rick’s boots scraped helplessly against the wet wall, his heels striking the brick.
Only then did Rick see his eyes.
Not rage.
Not anger.
Something close to sick pleasure.
As though he were genuinely enjoying every second of this.
Everything around them disappeared.
There was only the rasping sound in his throat, the deafening pounding of his own heart, and the searing pain in his chest.
There was no air.
He tried desperately to breathe, but it was as though his lungs no longer existed.
Panic swallowed him instantly.
“Is this really it?..”
“Like this?..”
“Just like this?..”
Dark spots began to drift across his vision.
“Aaron...”
The thought flashed so clearly that it almost hurt even more.
“I didn’t even get the chance...”
