Did I mention I didn't own this?
I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. I'll figure something out. Maybe.
Incidentally, Domino was not home when Wade returned with ice cream, a turtle, chili fries, and someone's sports car. He didn't have trash bags though. He was much dismayed to find himself all alone. However, the Merc with a Mouth was a resourceful, sneaky kind of guy, and he'd bugged Domino's phone and computer. In little time, he'd discovered just where and why she'd gone.
It was a simple matter of 'visiting' Domino's neighbors again – not the ones with dogs – and 'borrowing' a spare credit card and some cash that was lying around. In a matter of hours, Wade was on a plane, headed to New York.
The Galavanti's of New York hosted the black and white gala event of the year. The guest list was extensive and varied. Mob bosses mingled with models, enforcers drank with policemen, mercenaries blended with businessmen.
Neena Thurman feigned attentive while her present admirer consumed several shrimp puffs in between tales of lurid hostile takeovers. She scanned the crowd for her target, and her eyes caught a flash of red. Blood was splashed across a woman's white dress like a piece of abstract art as she stared in shock. A neat circle in the side of her target's head bled freely as he slumped to the ground.
The only problem Neena had was that she hadn't been the one to shoot him. Therefore, she wouldn't get paid. And now, she was going to have to make it someone else's problem.
A waiter was screaming as he rushed from the room, just as the armed guards who were meant to prevent such a scene pulled their weapons, resulting in more panic. She watched the waiter duck around one guard, hit him with a drink tray, and then disappear in the crowd. Before he vanished, he turned to her and winked.
Wade. Of course. The man who was stalking her life.