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“Not too big of a job, is it?” he presses. His eyebrows are drawn together in mock concern. He’s baiting me, the bastard.
“I’m the most beloved ballerina in all the Regions,” I sing quietly. “No one would believe you.”
“It would be interesting to see what people are willing to believe…”
I stare at his lips full of mischief. They move in unison with his eyes; there’s a collaboration of seduction between the two of them. I can’t believe women find this tool charming.
“Ruining someone’s life for the thrill of it. History tells us that men are assholes; I suppose I should have believed it.”
I give him my sweetest smile before moving away. I don’t look back, but I can feel him watching me. His approach is predatory, a caged animal trying to catch something between his teeth. The truth is, he’s scared me. I don’t know what he’s capable of and I don’t want to find out. If I were caught, there would be drastic consequences. I try to feign indifference, moving around the room making small talk, keeping a wide berth from the End Man, and pretending my mind isn’t replaying what he said.
My required hour is up. I breathe a sigh of relief. I can take my leave, my excuse being the early hours I keep for my dancing schedule. I walk past the governor and squeeze his arm in greeting. He glances back at me and winks. Sean’s handsomeness is an exact science: broad shoulders, warm brown eyes, and sensual lips. He keeps a beard—which I like—and dresses conservatively—which I don’t like. Before the governor was Sean, he was Kasey. Our mothers were good friends.
He’s still talking to Lourdes, who lifts a hand in greeting when she sees me, not breaking her tirade. I catch a few words of what she says—Society…rebels…the initiative. They’re interrupted by a tray of drinks and she takes one without looking to see what it is. Lourdes drinks too much, mostly behind closed doors, but she can’t resist at a party. There’s a little bump, some champagne on her dress, her cry of shock. Everyone rushes forward with napkins to soak it up and I take that moment to slip away. I head for the door, a small smile on my face. I take the long way so I have to pass by Jackal. I meet his eyes this time, holding onto them as a whoosh of adrenaline courses through me. I walk right past him, no one noticing the slight reach of my arm as I drop something into his pocket. There’s a slight widening of his eyes as I wink and move past. Heat, I feel his heat. And then I’m outside, the air lukewarm on my bare shoulders. I laugh even as I run down the stairs.
THREE
JACKAL
The chevrotain is an animal that looks like a tiny deer with fangs.
The way she looks at me...I haven’t been eyed like that since Ashton Trent’s Rottweiler chased me naked through her house and almost ripped off my balls. Phoenix’s hostility turns me on—call me a masochist, but I like a challenge. I thought it was over; she walked away and that was the last of it, but then I see a commotion where the governor is standing with Lourdes. A few moments later, Phoenix breezes right by me, the curve of her lips triumphant. I stare after her as she makes her way to the door, the graceful dip between her shoulder blades moving sensually. There’s a barely noticeable weight in my right pocket. I reach in casually and my fingers touch cold metal studded with hard round objects that can only be rubies. I find Lourdes in the crowd and see that her wrist is bare, the bracelet gone. There are a dozen women around me, but I start laughing.
I excuse myself and go outside, hoping I’m not too late to catch her leaving. A few people are milling around outside, and a lone guy stands a few feet away from my car. It’s a good thing Selfish is still inside. She’d have him arrested just for looking dirty near something of mine—all about appearances, that one.
He shifts and the streetlight shines on his face, just enough that I make out that it’s the man from the night before. I motion for him to follow me and step into the shadows of the alley behind the hotel.
“Where did you get that cap?”
He doesn’t respond and I step closer, towering over him.
“Do you know where Folsom is?”
He shifts side to side and peers around me cautiously. “He needs your help,” he says.
“Did he send you? Where is he?”
Since his little jailbreak out of the Red Region, none of us have heard anything. The Society had been quick to send their muscle to question us, but we all played dumb. I suspect Kasper knows more than he is saying, but in times like these, it’s difficult to ask questions without being overheard.
“He’s safe,” he says. “He needs your help finding Gwen.”
“Gwen?” I scratch the back of my head, frowning. “Gwen is in prison.”
Despite my indifferent demeanor, my gut clenches when I say her name. Gwen has been the voice that started the rebellion, what some people are now calling the Revolution. It is because of her that Folsom got out of the Red Region after the Society almost killed him. In the mess of a rescue mission, there had been shots fired, killing his firstborn son, Laticus, who was next to be initiated into the End Men. Gwen sacrificed herself for her sister, giving up her seat on the helicopter and thus being taken into the Region’s custody. I’ve wondered if she’s even still alive.
“She’s not in the Red Region’s penitentiaries. We’ve checked. We have people on the inside. Folsom needs your help finding out where she is. Word out there is she might be in Admax, which would be virtually impossible—”
“How the fuck would I find out? I’m not even sure where Folsom is. I haven’t heard from him all this time. Who are you working with?” I ask.
He backs off and looks like he’s about to scurry away, but I grab his arm and look behind me. Selfish is standing at the end of the alley, watching us. I let go of the guy’s arm and he runs the other direction. I wouldn’t wish Selfish on anyone. I walk toward her, heart heavy.
“Everyone’s waiting on you,” she says, hands on her hips. “Time for the toast. What were you doing out here with that vagrant?”
“He’s my drug supplier. I was scoring some excellent coke. Would you like some?”
We turn the corner and Selfish takes my arm. “Everything you do is my business, Jackal,” she says before we walk inside. “Smile.” She smooths down my hair and I feel like a trained monkey.
I turn on the smile and act interested in the many conversations I’m forced to listen to, all the while thinking about how to get information on Gwen. Later, as I’m with two women who look so similar I can’t keep them straight, I’m balls deep and trying to speed things along. They want to take their time, one of them looking in the mirror at herself riding me, while the other tries to sit on my face. I’m not in the mood for that...too much on my mind. The pretty little thief is niggling my thoughts and this business with Folsom and Gwen... I have to get out of here.
