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TWELVE
Decima
I paused justinside the restaurant, taking in the posh surroundings. Crystal glinted everywhere, and the tablecloths shone bleached white. Subdued classical music tinkled through the room. My skin immediately started to itch.
I’d spent time in places like this before to get at various targets, but I’d never enjoyed it. At least I’d known how to dress for the part. I’d selected a modest purple evening gown that hung just below my knees. The neckline wasn’t necessarily revealing, though it wasn’t prudish either, dipping into a V that just barely accentuated my assets. To top off the look, I’d paired it with a gold necklace and earrings to match a shiny clutch I carried.
From the way the crew’s gazes had clung to me as I’d headed out, I knew I’d pulled off the look all right, even if I was way more comfortable in tees and sweatpants.
“There you are.” Damien Malik came up beside me, resting his hand briefly on the small of my back to guide me with him. “You look lovely, Rachel.”
My father looked taller than usual in his fitted black suit, with an air of authority I hadn’t seen him exercise all that much among family. Maybe he was displaying it now because of the company we’d have for this dinner. He’d just gotten back from a longer than usual stint handling political work in DC, and he’d wanted to introduce me to a couple of his close colleagues from the capitol.
I couldn’t say I was looking forward to meeting even more strangers, and these ones people I wasn’t even related to, but I could tell it meant a lot to my father. And it was part of really becoming Rachel Malik, if I wanted to fully embrace that role.
I just hoped the role of Rachel started to feel more like me.
“Just be yourself,” Damien assured me with a fatherly smile as we headed toward a table near the back of the room. “They’ll go easy on you. I think it’ll be good for you to have a deeper understanding of the work that occupies so much of my time. It affects the family in so many ways.”
“That makes sense,” I said. And it did affect all of the Maliks quite a bit. Like Carter deciding to give up baseball. Like the times when Iris was left to fend for herself when my grandparents visited, because Damien was out of town for the week. But Damien’s standing also supported that big house with its expansive property and all the activities that happened in and around it.
We stopped at a table where two men were already sitting, though they got to their feet to greet us. Both were a good match for my father: white, middle-aged, with an air of importance around them as if it never occurred to them that they might not get what they wanted, one way or another. An awful lot of my targets for the household had been people like that.
My skin itched again with that thought. I could only imagine what my father’s colleagues would think of my line of work.
Damien set his hand on my shoulder. “Clint, Gary, this is my daughter, Rachel. I’m so glad you’re finally getting to meet her at last.”
Clint, a portly man with bushy eyebrows and a beakish nose, dipped his head to me. “So am I. Such a lot of trouble and trauma on the way to you getting back to your family.” He smiled with what looked like genuine sympathy, but I couldn’t help feeling there was a patronizing edge to it. Like he thought I’d gotten myself kidnapped as a toddler out of some oversight of my own.
Gary, slim with a short, pointed beard, held out his hand for me to shake it. His grasp was as firm as I’d expect from his confident stance. “It’s a pleasure. I can already see the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, regardless of how you got there. Nature over nurture!”
“I’d like to think so,” Damien said with a chuckle, and we all sat down.
“So, you work with my father in Washington?” I ventured, feeling like I should make some effort to add to the conversation and show an interest in the two men.
“For well over a decade now,” Clint said, clapping his hand to my father’s back. “Couldn’t ask for a better ally among all the goons out there. Hard to find men with real integrity these days.”
I thought of the Hunter and all his insinuations, and then mentally kicked myself for giving that stranger’s accusations any space in my brain. Garrison hadn’t yet confirmed the exchange of favors that’d let me get the Maliks’ garden soil analyzed, but at this point, there was no reason to think it’d reveal any horrifying secrets.
“But I’d like to hear more about you,” Gary spoke up, tipping his head to me as the waitress went around filling our water glasses. “As much as you’re comfortable saying. Have you been able to settle in with your family all right after all this time?”
I would have bristled at the private question if he hadn’t spoken so gently. But then, he was a politician, so framing things in the right way to get the answers he wanted must have been second nature to him.
“I think so,” I said carefully. “We’ve only really just gotten started.”
My father patted the back of my chair. “I’d say that Rachel has been fitting in exceptionally well, considering the circumstances. She’s incredibly resilient.”
He didn’t even know the half of it, but part of me lit up at the praise despite myself. Noelle had barely acknowledged the strain she’d put me under. She’d taken it for granted that I’d get through everything she threw at me and every assignment I was sent on. But I had survived a hell of a lot.
Clint offered a sympathetic grimace. “You’d have to be. You’ve been through far more than any young lady—than anyone at all—should have to.”
“And let’s hope we see the perpetrators of that crime duly punished,” Gary said. “Thanks to your father’s work over the years, they’ll face more jail time than they would have when you were first taken. Although some feel even that isn’t enough. What are your thoughts on capital punishment?”
I held back a laugh. It hadn’t taken long for them to transition from personal condolences to political agendas, had it? I guessed that was probably how things worked in Washington.
I’d never really thought about whether I believed in the death sentence before. Legal forms of murder had been far removed from my existence. I’d have been much more likely to get killed by the people I was intending to do the same to myself than to be caught by law enforcement and sentenced.
But then, what did the Chaos Crew do—what did I intend to do from now on with my skills—other than dole out capital punishments of our own?
