"You're making a serious mistake," Marcus said calmly. His voice cut through the shocked murmurs of the guests. "A very serious mistake. " Briggs jerked him forward violently. Marcus'ss knees nearly buckled, but he stayed upright. The only mistake here was you thinking you could fool anyone with that fake badge.
They were halfway down the aisle now. Marcus could see the ballroom doors ahead. Once Briggs got him outside, everything would change. The witnesses would be gone. The cameras would be gone.
Whatever Briggs really wanted could happen in private. That's when Briggs reached for Marcus'ss jacket. His thick fingers moved toward the inside breast pocket. Marcus felt the man's hand pressing against the fabric, searching for something. The movement was deliberate, practiced, like he knew exactly what he was looking for.
Elena noticed immediately. Don't touch that jacket. Her voice cracked like a whip across the ballroom. That's federal property. You have no right to search him without a warrant.
Briggs's hand froze for just a moment. Then he laughed. It was a harsh, ugly sound that made several guests flinch. "Federal property? This piece of garbage isn't federal anything. " He's carrying fraudulent credentials, fake ID, stolen documents.
His fingers resumed their search, pressing deeper into the jacket pocket. Marcus tensed. Whatever Briggs was looking for, he was getting close to finding it. You want to see fake federal credentials? Briggs continued.
His voice rising with mock excitement. Wait until I show you what this con artist has been carrying around. That's when Renee Dalton stood up. She rose from her seat in the front row like she was emerging from still water, tall, commanding, her gray suit perfectly pressed, her badge case already open in her left hand. "Special agent Renee Dalton," she said clearly.
Her voice carried the unmistakable authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "Federal Bureau of Investigation, Financial Crimes Task Force. " The ballroom went dead silent. Then 30 more guests stood up. They rose almost simultaneously throughout the crowd. Front row, back row, center tables, side sections, men and women in wedding attire, their movements precise and coordinated.
Badge cases appeared in hands like magic tricks performed in perfect synchronization. Federal badges, gold shields, credentials cases. The metallic gleam caught the ballroom lights and reflected back like stars. Briggs stopped dead in the center aisle. His hand was still pressed against Marcus'ss jacket, but his entire body had gone rigid.