Red After Dark (Blackwood Security #13) - Elise Noble Page 0,50

scowled when he recognised me.

I held my smile, sweetened it to saccharine as I carried on walking. Ridley and Kyla deserved each other.

Locked safely in a bathroom stall, I tossed the remains of the wine down the toilet, then set the glass on the closed lid. Forensics had never really been my thing, but I’d spent enough time in the lab to know how to collect a set of fingerprints. Sure, I could have sealed the glass in an evidence bag and left it to the techs, but if this set of prints was smeared too… We’d be back to square one. At least if I did the work now, I could have another crack at Ridley right away if it didn’t pan out.

Carefully, carefully, I sprinkled graphite powder onto the glass, then gently brushed away the excess. Jackpot. Four fingers and a thumb near the bottom where he’d held the glass to drink, plus the same on the sides, and they looked pretty clear to me. Phew. I’d got both hands. Once I’d transferred the detail onto sticky tape and stuck the prints onto a piece of white card, I photographed them and sent the pictures to the Cincinnati lab. Black had put them on standby. We’d have an answer as to whether they matched the prints on the laptop bag by the time the charity auction started.

My job done, I wiped up the mess, stashed the evidence in my handbag, and strolled back to my husband. How long until we could leave? I’d rather walk a tightrope over a lava field than listen to another round of speeches, and my fingers were itching to get Black out of that uniform.

“Home time?” I whispered.

“Prints okay?”

“Yup.”

He stood, a man of few words, towering above me despite my four-inch pumps. And we almost got away with it. A few nods, a couple of goodbyes, and we were almost at the exit when a bottle blonde in her late fifties stopped us, clipboard in hand.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

There were some moments when being a billionaire had definite drawbacks, and trying to sneak out of a function right before a charity auction began was most certainly one of them. Black never broadcast his wealth, but they knew he had money.

“We’re just about to start our fundraiser,” she continued. “Everyone was so excited when they saw your name on the guest list because we all know how much you love to support injured veterans.”

“How about I just write you a cheque?” he offered.

“Where’s the fun in that?” She looped her arms through ours, oblivious to the fact that I wanted to sew her lips shut. “You can come sit at our table. Linus, could you get extra chairs?”

“Someone kill me now,” Black mouthed, but she didn’t notice.

“Next time, you can bring Dan as your date,” I muttered back.

Although I did change my mind half an hour later. Right after lot seventeen went up for auction, a signed football jersey from a player I’d never heard of. But it seemed Ridley had because he was locked into a bidding war with an admiral, and the price was up to sixteen hundred dollars and he was winning. Black waited until the last possible second, right before the hammer came down, before he raised his hand.

“Ten thousand dollars.” He turned to stare right at Eric Ridley. “Your move, asshole,” he murmured so only I could hear.

Oh, the way Ridley’s cocky smile faded was worth the wasted hour. The vague confusion, the realisation, and finally the scowl that spread across his not-quite-so-smug face. Delightful.

The blonde woman started the applause, and soon everyone was clapping, even the admiral who’d been outbid. Everyone except Ridley, anyway.

“What are you gonna do with a football shirt?” I asked Black.

“Gift it to Admiral Nelson.” Yes, that really was his name. “Now we can go.”

Once again, we almost made it to the door, but this time, it was Ridley who blocked our way. Open the dictionary at the definition of “sore loser” and you’d find his ugly mug glowering back at you.

“I suppose you think that was funny,” he snapped.

Black feigned puzzlement. “Are you referring to the ten thousand bucks I just donated to charity?”

“You know I’ve always been a fan of the Miami Dolphins.”

“Actually, I had no idea.”

“Just because Blackwood keeps losing out to EBR Group on contracts, there’s no need to be petty.”

“We’re not interested in entering a race to the bottom. That benefits nobody.”

“Bullshit. Blackwood’s a bloated behemoth, that’s why