He laughed softly, then pressed another kiss to my temple. “They working.”
“At a wedding reception?”
“Especially at a wedding reception. They work so everyone else can enjoy.”
I knew that was supposed to have calmed me.
It didn't, because even as he said it, a crash sounded outside. It wasn't loud enough to be gunfire, but it was too loud to be nothing.
The music stuttered before the DJ cut it completely. Conversations and laughter died as people stilled, listening.
Somebody near the doors screamed. Targen’s arms left my waist. I felt the loss of him immediately.
“Targen.”
He moved in front of me, smooth, no panic, placing his body between me and the sound. That scared me a little. Mikhail appeared at my side like he had been conjured up. Juvie was there a second later, all the foolishness gone from his face. Across the room, women started moving without being told. My mama pulled one of my little cousins behind her. Aunt Elise reached for Granny Nette. Hyacinth’s hand disappeared into that little sparkly purse she kept acting like was just for lip gloss. Braeden walked toward the doors. Like he literally strolled, unbothered. Prime and Ajani followed.
I grabbed the back of Targen’s jacket.
“What’s happening?” I demanded.
All his infuriating ass said was, “Stay behind me.”
“I asked you what’s happening.”
He spared me a glance, smiled a little. “I know.”
I gritted my teeth. “This isnotthe time to be cute.”
“With these families, it never is,” Mikhail muttered.
I glared at him. “Nobody asked you, human borscht.”
His mouth lifted at one corner. Another shout came from outside. Then the double doors at the front of the hall opened hard enough to bang against the walls. The woman who stepped through looked like trouble.
Marguerite Armstrong.
Chauncey's aunt.
I had only seen pictures of her, but I recognized her. The determined, spiteful set of her mouth, the coldness in her eyes, the way she walked in like she owned the room… Yeah, I recognized it all because I saw it in her nephew too late. She wore black, but she wasn't mourning. Nah, this was power black, that "I got money" black.
Virginia, her sister and Chauncey's mom, came in behind her, face tight, eyes searching the room like she was looking for someone. Like she was looking for me.
Several men entered behind them. Not many, but enough to make the guests gasp and step back, enough to look like a threat. My body turned cold. Marguerite’s eyes found me almost immediately.
“There you are,” she said, voice carrying easily now that the room was silent. “The lying bitch everybody willing to fight over.”
Targen took one step forward. I tightened my hand in his jacket.
“Don’t.”
He stopped. Barely.
Marguerite smiled like that pleased her. “I wondered if you still had a voice, Theory. Last I heard, you were busy hiding behind big Russians and bigger wedding rings.”
I felt every eye in the room shift toward me. Heat crept up my neck, but I met her gaze. I lifted my shoulders nonchalantly.
“I’m not hiding. You walked in and saw me, didn’t you?”
