Betrayal Codes

Chapter 21: Libby

There is no doubt in my mind that this is the criminal who fucked our lives. This man, with the balding head, old-man glasses, and a classic tux with a very visible wrinkle on the undershirt. This man is Peter.

"Oh, shit," Shay murmurs, the curse surprising all of us who look at her with raised eyebrows.

"U-uh, Lib?" Cole stutters. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." My hand automatically finds the gun tucked into my dress and I hold it over the fabric, like a reassurance. It irks me that I find security in a weapon, but if this man approaches me, the only way I'm saving myself is by violence.

Before we left, Cleo unlatched a hidden compartment in her suitcase and pulled out two pistols. "Oh my god, Cleo, you've been carrying guns? How did you get past security?" Taylor's mouth hung open. We had trained with guns and used them plenty of times before, so she wasn't shocked at the sight of the weapons, more at the thought of Cleo carrying them without our knowledge this whole time.

"Special compartment. Has some weird technology that makes the X-rays think it doesn't exist."

"Wow. That's dangerous."

"In the wrong hands, yes," Cleo agrees. "Okay, but we've really got to go, so who's the most responsible and can be in charge of these bad boys?"

Shay immediately recoils. "Not me."

"I'd love to," Tay claps her hands and buries them in her lap as if stopping herself from reaching towards one. "But I'd probably shoot Aiden the first chance I could."

Everyone's eyes turn to me. "Can you take one?" Cleo asks.

"Sure, why not," I accepted one from her outstretched hand, slipping it under my dress carefully.

Now, I run my hand over the smooth, cold metal of the pistol hidden under the silky fabric of my dress, fingers molding into its curves. "It's just for emergencies," Cleo made sure I knew as I tucked it under my dress earlier. Would defending myself by killing Peter if he got too close for comfort be considered an emergency?

"Lib," Cole's hand searches for mine, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. I yank my hand away from my dress as if it were on fire as his hand finds mine, squeezing once in quick comfort.

"Um, yeah?" I hope he can't hear the wobbliness in my voice or the surprise in my eyes. If he had found the gun...

"What should we do? About Peter?" he whispers.

"I..." I start, but my brain short-circuits. Peter — the kidnapper and murderer — is here and I'm questioning killing him. I am mentally unstable.

"Cleo," Shay fills in. "We need to find Cleo. And Taylor."

Yes, I think. Cleo will know what to do.

"Okay, let's go," Cole takes my hand and gently guides me after Shay and Tucker, the four of us weaving our way through the crowd in search of Taylor or Cleo. My eyes won't unglue from Peter. This criminal is just talking to the guests — these unsuspecting guests — at his gala. How can someone not know how evil he is? How do they believe this "Parker Crane" is just another innocent billionaire? How do they not see past his cover? How— "Oof!" I bump into what feels like a wall, but is actually a man. I very solid man.

"Woah, there, baby," he grasps my arms, steadying me. Baby?

My eyes widened. "Um, sorry?" I unintentionally make my apology a question as I try to unsuspectingly glance around for Cole, who I guess I lost while watching Peter. Where is he?

The guy smirks. "No need to be sorry. Some girls just can't help falling for me." That was a shitty pickup line. A laugh escapes my lips and the guy mistakes it for a laugh of interest. "Hey, can I, uh, get drinks with you sometime?"