A sharp slap echoed from a room upstairs and then a cry. Maybe of passion or maybe not.

Dana jumped, and her hand tightened in his.

They definitely shouldn’t look in on the fire play later. Her hand trembled slightly, and Wolfe paused to see if she wanted to leave, but movement toward the back door caught his eye. A couple he’d never seen was snuggled up on a duvet in the corner, but the guy seemed to be scoping the place behind a plain green mask. The tat peeking out beneath his collar was of some sort of crest. Interesting.

Wolfe made a mental note to find out more about the guy and then looked through a sweeping archway to a darkened kitchen with low blue mood lighting, “Let’s check out the bar.” He needed her calmer than she was to get through this, but they both had to keep their faculties.

The mask over his eyes was bugging him, but in case there were cameras, he needed to keep it on. Mask or not, anybody he’d met before would recognize him because of his size, but he didn’t want to be recorded.

She tottered on her high heels but quickly regained her balance as they wound through the crowd to the bar. He clocked an exit to the north that led to a backyard and a side door to the east that no doubt went to the garage. The counters had been wiped clean to leave room for bottles and glasses, so no knife block. Experience told him knives would be in one of the drawers near the sterling-silver high-end range with dual oven doors. The thing probably cost more than he made in a year. He ordered two beers from the buxom bartender. “I’ll open them,” he said.

She reached down and then plunked two bottles on the counter. “Glasses?”

“No.” He reached for the bottles and twisted off the tops.

Dana edged closer, leaning up to whisper, “I don’t like beer.”

“I know. Don’t drink,” he replied, handing one of the bottles to her. The itch at the base of his neck was getting more irritating, and they had to be ready to run or fight.

“Wolfe.” It wasn’t a surprise when Trentington angled his way, recognizing him even while wearing a mask.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” Wolfe settled his hand at Dana’s nape.

Trentington, wearing a furry mask that made him look like a tiger, ordered a Scotch. “Thanks. It’s nice to see you with such an intriguing lady. I love the pink mask.”

Wolfe leaned against the side wall, hopefully looking casual. “I’d hate to risk her safety, considering somebody was shot at the last party. What do we know?”

“Not much. Whoever shot him went out the window, scaled down a drain, and then disappeared.” Trentington accepted his drink, his gaze scouting the party.