Deadly Little Secrets Page 0,90

reply to his saucy jab, there was a ring of brassy music and a rumble of kettledrums. The sound reverberated in the foyer and in the room they were in.

“Time for the entertainment,” he said, bending low so he could be heard over the cacophony.

The crowd pressed forward, packing into the huge grand entrance. Above them on the mezzanine where she and Gates had watched the crowd, a small orchestra had been set up and several performers stood, waiting for the gathering to settle.

Drake Yountz and an attractive silver-haired woman stepped to the railing, each with a microphone in hand. They thanked everyone and indicated that the auction room’s doors would now be shut for tallying, and the program would begin.

“Winners of auction items will be able to either take them home this evening or have them delivered for an extra charge,” the woman said with a smile, outlining the procedures, the payment process, and all the niceties of silent auction bidding.

Yountz took up the program. “And now, as my lovely co-host indicated, five of San Francisco’s finest artists are here to perform a selection from the Opera’s magnificent upcoming production of Wagner’s Ring Cycle.”

He did the usual “please help me welcome” type of introductions, then handed over the microphone. Ana’s aversion to the man grew with every sighting, and she made a mental note to do a run on him when she got back to the office.

They endured the four operatic selections, and then the announcement of the auction’s highest bidders began. Gates slipped away to get something for them to eat, while she, Dav, and Sophia chatted. Since the earlier scare, Sophia was sticking close to her cousin. Her circle of admirers ebbed and flowed, but most stopped just long enough to say hello and comment on how much they admired her work.

Ana wondered how Dav was going to explain the young woman’s presence to Carrie. Then she wondered why she was wondering.

Relationships aren’t your thing, Burton, Ana reminded herself. Data is. Don’t get involved. Don’t begin to care. The familiar litany she’d been reciting since Rome felt like dusty nonsense in her mind. Life was all about relationships.

“Here,” Gates said, offering her a loaded plate and another glass of wine. “There’s more on the way.” As he spoke, several other team members stopped by, casually handing Dav and Sophia plates as well, before disappearing into the mob of patrons.

“Ah, Sophia, my dear, you’ve taken the field,” Dav said by way of congratulations. Ana couldn’t see what it was, but Sophia’s bidder number appeared on the tote board over the head of the lead auctioneer, along with an enormous photo of the frilly dressing table.

Gates looked at Ana, as if to say, “See, someone liked it.” It was all she could do not to burst out laughing. Relationships add spice to life, that other, traitorous part of her mind whispered.

It was well after two when they called for the limousines and migrated toward the doors. Each of her three companions had captured some prize or another in the auction, although Gates wouldn’t tell her what his was.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said, giving her a mysterious look. “You’ll like it, though.” His laughter was an intimate caress on her spirit, a buoying lift to remind her that maybe it was possible to open up again.

That warm sense faded as they waited in line for the limos in the cool dark of the early morning. Something about the scenario made Ana unaccountably nervous, and she began to scan the minimal crowd, note the security locations.

Ana and Gates were off to one side, with part of the security detail, but there was an awful lot of open space around them and overhead as well, despite the number of police and private security. Their number was called, and they and their security detail moved forward, the team waiting until Dav, Sophia, and Ana were in the limo before they took their final notes from Gates and dispersed to the cars in front and in back.

Ana was adjusting the folds of the dress on the seat, leaving room for Gates when she heard it.

The soft, wet twack might have gone unnoticed, but she recognized it. It was the sound of a bullet hitting flesh.

She looked at Gates, in time to see him gasping and gripping the glass of the window.

“GATES!” she screamed, leaping toward him from her sitting position. Just as it had in Rome, everything slowed to an