surprised that Cain would go back there, since we think it’s a Medusa stronghold. All right, I’ll take care of it.”
“See that you do,” Miles replied.
The phone went silent as Miles hung up. Nash immediately dialed another number. “Get the jet ready,” he told the woman who answered. “Tell the director I have to go to Nevada tonight.”
THIRTY-FIVE
“I’M sorry about this,” Jason told Iniya as he secured the realtor and her husband to the headboard of their bed. He made sure the duct tape was secure, and he checked the gags on their mouths. “It should only be a few hours. When I’m done, I’ll call the police and let them know you’re here. They’ll release you.”
The Indian woman’s green eyes were wild with fear.
“Your husband will be fine,” Jason added. “He should wake up in a few minutes.”
The realtor’s husband had fought back despite a gun aimed at his chest, and Bourne had been forced to incapacitate him with a blow to the head that left the man bloody. He was still unconscious on the bed next to his wife.
“I’m sorry,” Jason said again.
He went back downstairs, where Abbey waited for him, looking perfect in her purple cocktail dress. She held the hand-lettered invitations to the Gabriel Fox party in her hand. Their keys to the Prescix kingdom, which Iniya had given them at gunpoint. When Abbey looked at him now, there was something different in her eyes, as if she needed distance from Jason to keep herself safe. She came up to him with a serious expression and said, “There’s blood on your face.”
Abbey wet her finger and wiped it off.
“The limo’s outside,” she told him.
“We should go.”
They didn’t talk as the car drove them to Sensara. A long line of cars waited at the guard gate, stretching for almost a quarter mile. This time, the guards simply confirmed that the occupants of the vehicles had their invitations and waved them into the neighborhood. There were no searches, no metal detectors. That was what he’d expected, so he’d taken the risk of keeping his gun in the holster on his back, rather than leaving it behind. The limo dropped Jason and Abbey at the gates outside Gabriel Fox’s giant property, where servers welcomed them with champagne. Abbey held Jason’s hand as they wandered onto the estate grounds past an elaborate cactus garden. Her grip was limp.
Dozens of people in upscale finery surrounded them as they neared the house. The lights were low, creating romantic shadows. Night had fallen, and a vast map of lights came on throughout the Las Vegas valley far below them. The air had turned cooler, and a stiff breeze swirled across the mountaintop. When they got to the estate, they found their way to one of the balconies behind the swimming pools, and Jason did a survey of the guests around them. He saw faces he knew from the business world, from government, from the media, and a few celebrities, too. Some of them might have recognized Bourne if they’d looked closely, but the dim light provided cover, and when anyone looked at the two of them, they saw Abbey, not him. She was a beautiful vision in her dress, and she knew how to play the part.
Even so, he hated the coolness he felt from her. That told him something that he didn’t want to face. His feelings for her were real.
“It looks like our hosts have arrived,” Abbey murmured.
Jason followed her gaze.
Gabriel Fox and his bride joined the party in spectacular fashion. A gleaming cylindrical steel tower rose slowly from the middle of the swimming pool fountains, rotating slowly as it ascended, until it stopped high above the crowd of guests, thirty feet in the air. White spotlights shined on two people standing on the small platform at the top, behind a gold railing.
One was Gabriel Fox. The squat, pudgy CEO of Prescix wore a black-and-white leopard print tuxedo with black silk lapels, with a matching leopard print pillbox hat on top of his head. Fox carried a flaming metal torch that looked as if it had come from the Olympics, and he raised it high as the tower slowly made another circle over the crowd. The heat of the fire made his round face glow. He grinned below his thick brown mustache.
Bourne was more focused on the woman with him. His bride.
She was incredibly tall and sleek, so thin as to look gaunt. Her coal-black hair was pulled behind her and