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“Yes.” Anna’s lips trembled. “Poppy says it all the time, but I didn’t think Bella ever would.”
Sasha thought of the precocious six-year-old with blond hair and enormous blue eyes that Zak and Anna had officially adopted six months ago. The girl was as bright and happy as her name suggested, and a lot of that had to do with Bella shielding her from the worst of their shared trauma. The girls were raised as sisters, but they weren’t blood-related. Due to a lot of complicated circumstances, Zak and Anna hadn’t been able to adopt Bella like they had Poppy, who was an orphan, so they were still only the older girl’s foster parents. And Bella was about to turn eighteen, aging her out of the traditional foster system and into a transitional group home. Sasha knew Zak and Anna were desperately jumping through all the legal hoops to adopt her before that happened.
“Poppy had a lot less trauma to work through than Bella.”
“Because Bella is so smart and strong and resilient. She’s such a good kid. And now I just want to protect them both from all of it.” Anna started to wipe at the tears in her eyes but caught herself. “Dammit. I’m not going to cry. Tonight’s a good night. A happy night.”
Sasha turned her toward the casino’s door. “Exactly. No tears. You’ll go in there and dance with your handsome husband and have fun while you raise boatloads of money for our rescue.”
Anna gave a watery laugh. “Well, I don’t know about boatloads, but the ticket sales were beyond anything we expected. With any luck, the silent auction and donations will put us over the top of our stretch goal.”
“Boatloads of money,” Sasha insisted.
“Yeah, okay. Boatloads.” She gave a sly sideways smile. “And you, my friend, are going to snag yourself a handsome sheriff tonight, and then we’ll be sisters.”
The nerves fluttered again, and Sasha pressed her free hand to her belly. “Maybe don’t start sending the wedding invitations just yet. He has to notice me first.”
“Oh, he will. Everyone will. Believe me, Sash, you look amazing.”
The ballroom was filled with a cacophony of colors and textures. Anna had outdone herself with the decorations. An expansive buffet of delicious treats and appetizers lined one wall, and a bar was tucked away in the corner. On the stage in front of the dance floor, a small jazz band played a lively tune, electrifying the air. Many of the masqueraders mingled among the high-top cocktail tables in shimmering fabrics and intricate masks of feathers and sequins. Others had already taken to the dance floor, laughing in their partners’ arms. Overhead, chandeliers cascaded droplets of light into the crowd below.
Anna wasn’t over-exaggerating the number of ticket sales. It looked like the entire town had turned up to support Redwood Coast Rescue, and Sasha’s heart swelled at the thought. Zak and Anna had worked hard to make RWCR an asset to the community, and people were finally taking notice.
The night felt alive with possibility.
“Oh, there’s Zak.” Anna pulled her toward one of the tables, where Zak stood with Pierce St. James and Sawyer Murphy, two other members of Redwood Coast Rescue’s tactical K9 unit. Pierce wore a plain black mask that covered the lower half of his face and the extensive scars on his neck, and Sawyer had on an eyeless cyberpunk mask that made him look like an android. Even Zelda, Sawyer’s seeing-eye dog, was dressed to impress in a silver tutu that sparkled with green twinkle lights.
“Ladies,” Sawyer said with a gallant bow. “I’d say you look beautiful, but I’m blinder than usual tonight.” He grinned as he tapped his eyeless mask. “But I bet you’re both putting every other woman to shame.”
Pierce said something in sign language. He was unable to speak due to injuries he received while serving in Iraq. Sasha had been trying to learn to sign so she could talk with him, but she didn’t know enough of the language yet to translate what he said.
“Yeah, don’t get any ideas,” Zak replied and pulled Anna possessively into his side. While the two other men simply wore tuxes with their masks, he had gone full pirate with his costume, even replacing his usual prosthetic running blade with a peg leg. He cut a dashing figure in the long red jacket with gold trim. A huge tricorn hat sat at a jaunty angle on his head, and his half-mask was a freakishly realistic gold skull.
In a past life, he absolutely had been a pirate, Sasha decided. He looked too much the part to have been anything else.
“Wow,” he said and gave his wife an appreciative spin. “Look at you, gorgeous. My favorite parrot.”
She poked his chest. “I better be your only parrot.”
Aww, they’d coordinated. Now Anna’s bird-like costume made a lot more sense.
Sasha glanced away from the couple as they kissed, a hollow ache blooming in her heart. She wanted what they had—that sweet, easy intimacy with someone who saw all her flaws and accepted her anyway. She scanned the crowd for Ash, but she couldn’t pick him out of the sea of jesters and plague doctors. Her gaze snagged on a man in the corner dressed all in black, his silk shirt loosely laced at the collar, showing off impressively wide shoulders and the hint of a tattoo on his chest. His demon mask completely covered his face, leaving just his square jaw and dimpled chin visible. Definitely not Ash because he didn’t have a beard, but she found herself watching him a beat too long anyway. He lifted his drink in her direction, and she realized she was staring.
Oh, shit. Now she’d have to avoid Demon Man all night.
Face burning, she turned away from him and accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Her head was already fuzzy from the bottles she’d shared with Anna, but she needed to quiet the damn nerves fluttering in her belly. As she sipped, she continued scanning the crowd, but she was still too aware of Demon Man’s gaze on her.
She had to focus.
She was on a mission.
She took another sip of champagne. She needed to find Ash, and fast, before she lost the nerve. But where was he? She should’ve asked Anna what his costume was. Perhaps he opted not to come to the party after all.
Her gaze found its way back to Demon Man, who was now stalking across the room toward her. She tried to look away but found that she couldn’t.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. He was a perfect gentleman, but she hesitated and stared down at his extended hand. It was big and powerful and somehow menacing. She imagined it spread possessively across her lower back. Then imagined it sliding lower…
Maybe it was the anonymity of the masks they both wore that made her feel bold, or maybe it was the champagne fizzing her blood, but she placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her out onto the dance floor.
