Twelve
Dice
"Oh man … This is like the fucking who's-who of the shifter wackos elite," the familiar voice of Prowler rang in Dice's ears, setting him further on edge than he already was. "I think I can count two billionaires per square foot here. Werewolves mostly, but you could open up any damn shifter tabloid and name half of these people from the first ten pages."
There was a certain level of awe in Prowler's voice, mixed with dark amusement. Dice couldn't exactly say he was surprised. Standing in the middle of a party that seemed to be exclusively compiled of billionaire shifter moguls, terrorist cell activists in fine clothing and socialites was enough to get any even partially sane shifter scratching their head and wondering where they'd taken the wrong turn.
"Keep the chatter to a minimum," Dice said, his tone carrying a stern warning. "We're here to observe and not draw attention."
"You're no fun," Price said with a dip of his head, bemusement sparking in his eyes.
Dice, Rio, Ryker and Price were milling about the loft, with Price and Ryker the ones in the designer suits, carrying on what would appear to the outside viewer as a pleasant conversation. Rio and Dice were both dressed in simple black suits, with earpieces in their ears and their hands clapped behind their backs.
It was unnerving, to say the least, being in the middle of a major The Arctics' fundraiser or party or whatever this was, but that was overshadowed by the sheer sense of amazement Dice felt at the fact that they'd even gotten in through the front door. When the lift had opened and they'd found themselves staring down the barrels of assault rifles with nothing but their fists to arm them, Dice had been pretty damn sure that they were all one step away from being discarded corpses in the bottom of some sand pit.
Yet here they were, still very much alive.
Spade must really know the wrong kind of people, Dice thought grimly, his gaze tracking the people around him.
While Dice Alderson was just about the last guy to follow popular culture, even he could name some of the people there. Wealthy magnates, tech giants and all around billionaires, this crowd would have made any party planner in Los Angeles wet themselves with glee. But they were all here in Abu Dhabi, apparently supporting the cause of some of the most deranged, single-minded individuals the world had to offer.
It was chilling, seeing what the one percent was willing to do for money, the kind of morals they were willing to forego in the pursuit of profits.
"What does the perimeter look like?" Dice asked, murmuring into the headset.
"All clear, as much as we can tell. I could say more if I got closer, but that won't happen," Thor responded.
They'd given up the call signs for the evening in anticipation that if anyone was capable of listening in on their frequency, they'd be exposed too quickly as a unit. For now, Thor was in Etihad Tower number two, having camped out there for the past sixteen hours – getting him in there had been a task of herculean proportions, especially with his rifle – and Prowler was even further away, viewing the shindig through the cameras hidden in the lapels of Ryker's and Price's jackets.
"I think this whole thing would be a lot more fun with some explosives," Rio said with a barely audible sigh, his eyes flitting over the people around them with restless energy.
Dice didn't have to say a thing to confirm that thought. He was sure most of his team felt the same. Whether it was because they wanted to take out some terrorist supporters or simply because they wanted to watch the world burn was a whole other matter entirely.
"Is that Julian Rowen?" Ryker suddenly asked, catching Dice's attention and directing it toward the tall, imposing form of a man passing them by.
"It is," Price confirmed. "Well, look at that. Wasn't he the Times Person of the Year a few years back?"
"I think so," Rio confirmed.
But Dice had forgotten all about who the fuck Julian Rowen was or what he did. All he could see was the woman he was talking to.
The most beautiful woman in the world.
Meredith.
"Oh shit. That's her, isn't it? Honey cleans up well," Ryker commented, spotting Meredith a moment after Dice did.
"Shut up," Dice said absently, feeling his muscles strain and his bear stir to life.
He could feel his gaze flashing between dark brown and gray and hazel, his eyes transfixed on her. She looked like a vision, in that dress that made the color of her eyes pop and that hugged all her curves in the most maddening way. It took everything he had to keep from pushing through the rest of the crowd, taking her hand and trying his damndest to get the fuck out of there.
Rio's hand on his shoulder stilled him a little and he inhaled sharply, the brown seeping out of his eyes.
"Careful, boss. You're surrounded by half of The Arctics' elite forces and we don't have a gun on us," Rio said, a low warning that should have been ringing through Dice's head far before it dawned on anyone else.
But he was helpless before his mate. He'd beaten himself up ever since he'd allowed her to get in that car and be driven off, away from him, so remaining cool and rational was something he couldn't do so easily.
I need to talk to her.
That went against everything their mission statement said. The team was there to observe and to attempt to pinpoint which people were running the research teams of The Arctics. It had long been assumed that those guys had to hold the keys to the kingdom. While The Arctics spread their terror mostly through carefully organized, clean attacks on human populations and disrupting events meant to unify shifters and humans, then in all actuality The Firm knew that it was all a front to hide their research work.
Over the last several years, The Arctics had come out with some of the most gruesome, terrifying projects, all in the name of making shifter dominance – and especially werewolf power – prevalent in the world. They'd created super soldiers, funded research on neurotoxins that could make people turn against one another, experimented on both human and shifter babies and the list went on and on.
As such, every blow against their research division was twice as valuable as anything that could be managed against their arms dealing or the more traditional forms of their terror.
Seeing Meredith become visibly scared and uncomfortable while talking to Julian Rowen, Dice's mind was made up for him. He needed to talk to her, to tell her that it was going to be alright, that he was there for her. It was thanks to her that they were there to begin with – Dice didn't know how, but somehow Spade had tracked her to Abu Dhabi, and his team had been flown out the moment it became clear that she was headed there.
"I need a diversion. I need to get her away from that guard of hers," Dice said, reluctantly turning his back on Meredith and the vile man she was conversing with.
"That's fucking insane," Rio said immediately.
"I'm with him on that one," Prowler said, prompting another low, menacing growl from Dice.
"I said, I need a diversion. I'm running this mission. I need to talk to her, tell her what she needs to look out for."
"If they catch you with her, we're all dead," Ryker mused, pursing his lips slightly before breaking into a wide grin. "I like it."
Leave it to the crazies to back me up on a suicide mission.
"Alright then. So here's what we do," Dice said, with Price and Rio leaning in as well as he started explaining his plan to them.
A scant minute later, they split apart, Rio and Price heading off together and Dice going with Ryker. Rowen had already left Meredith by her lonesome when Dice got close enough for her to notice him.
Stay quiet, Meredith …
He could see her glancing up at the guard, the pink in her cheeks paling now, but she stayed perfectly still. Ryker grabbed a glass of whiskey from a passing tray and casually made his way past Meredith and her guard. Exactly when Ryker and Dice were next to Meredith and her guard, a spot of commotion could be heard across the room, with most people turning to see what was going on.