Chapter 12 - A Dinner with DevilsThe high-speed pursuit tore through the quiet luxury streets of Paradise Valley. The black Raptor stayed pinned to my tail, attempting to pit-maneuver my truck into the concrete palm tree medians.
"They're trying to kill us!" Marcus screamed, clutching the dashboard.
"They're trying to destroy the tablet!" I corrected, pulling a hard right turn onto Camelback Road.
I knew these roads like the back of my hand. Two miles ahead lay the prestigious Phoenician Resort—where the annual Scottsdale Developer's Charity Gala was currently underway. Every mayor, senator, and billionaire donor in Arizona was inside that ballroom.
And host of the evening was none other than Melissa Harrington.
I didn't head for the dark desert highways. I turned straight into the brightly lit, manicured entrance of the resort.
The security Raptor couldn't brake in time as I swerved past the valet stand, bringing my truck to a screeching, tire-smoking halt right on the red carpet outside the main ballroom entrance.
Security guards in tuxedos rushed forward in panic.
I grabbed the tablet, stepped out of the truck in my soot-stained boots and leather jacket, and shoved open the double glass doors of the grand ballroom.
The room went dead silent.
Five hundred people in black-tie attire stopped talking. On the main stage, Melissa Harrington stood behind a crystal podium, holding a glass of champagne.
May you like
I walked down the center aisle, my boots echoing like gunshots against the marble floor.
"Good evening, Melissa," I said, my voice carrying clearly through the silent room. "I brought the structural audit report for your waterfront project."
Related Stories
