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I shrugged. “I don’t know how you answer all those clues.”

“I just like puzzles.”

I shook my head, our hair brushing against each other’s as I murmured, “Well, closing your ears ain’t doable, babe, but I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to.”

“I get it, Brennan.”

I tilted my head down, pressing a kiss to her cheek, before I whispered, “Game on.”

She nodded, then when I spun her away from me, she did so with flair, like it was planned, before she curled into my side just inches away from the table where Coullson and his wife were standing.

The second he saw me, his nostrils flared in agitation and he cut his wife a glance, before tugging at his collar.

“Marjory, I need to talk business.”

She heaved a sigh, but was evidently a career politician’s wife and just shot me a resentful look before disappearing.

“You’ve got her on a tight leash, I see,” I told him with a smirk. “If you ask her to bark, does she?”

“Don’t you dare disrespect my wife,” Coullson snarled, and a vein started throbbing at his temple.

“Disrespect her? I’m doing nothing of the kind. I mean, you were the one who disrespected her by sucking Frederica’s—”

“Shut up!” he hissed, peering into the crowd like everyone was listening to our conversation.

I ignored the self-important prick, and instead, twisted around, found Frederica in the crowd and pointed. “Our mutual friend has missed you, Coullson. She wanted a chance to meet up with you—”

“Oh, my God, he’s here,” Coullson rasped, the hot pink flush on his cheeks disappearing as he stared at Frederica, turning him a pasty shade that made bread dough look as colorful as a rainbow.

I sneered at him, “Yeah,sheis, watch your fucking pronouns, you hypocrite. “

He tensed. “You have no—”

Because his opinions meant nothing to me, I steam-rolled over his objection, snapping, “I’ve got it on good authority that she knows most of your schedule. That’s the trouble when you’ve got a mistress. They tend to know all the little ins and outs of your life—” Camille tensed up at my side, but I ignored her. “—you should remember that the next time you decide you don’t want to play nice.”

The Mayor tugged at his necktie again, that vein at his temple throbbing like the bassline at a dubstep party. “Play nice? What you want from me, ratting ‘them’ out, will end up with me dying.”

“I doubt that. You’re still the Mayor, my man. Still in a position of power, well, that is until that little photo makes its way around the papers... I’m not sure what your core demographic voters will think about their Mayor not only frequenting seedy sex clubs but—”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Coullson whispered under his breath as he placed his hands on the cocktail table, the fingers bleeding white as he tucked them around the edges, leaning over and bowing his head like he could puke up his dinner there and then.

“No need to vomit,” I murmured softly, silkily. “You know what I want. A name... a contact. Some pertinent information about our mutual friends.”

Coullson clenched his jaw. “They’ll kill me.”

“For a man like yourself, who’s all image, all hypocrite, I’d think it’s better to die with your reputation intact than to live with your life in shreds, don’t you?” I moved closer to him, so close that he could feel my breath on his cheek. “And let’s not forget about how miserable I can make your life. You’ll wish you were dead if you don’t help us.”

For a second, I wasn’t sure if it was going to work. If we weren’t going to have to abduct him and torture the information out of him.

It was turning out to be one of those months. Torture here, torture there, torture every-fucking-where.

But Coullson caved in, muttering, “Ainsley McKenna.”

I frowned. “That it?”

“That’s all I’ve got. You asked for a name, there you go. He’s my point of contact.” His jaw turned white as he ground his teeth together. “Now, I have social obligations to see through.”

“Rude prick,” I muttered as he stormed off, taking the opposite direction to where Frederica was standing.

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