Retribution - Book 1 - Sample Only

Chapter Three

Hot pink. It's not a color I would choose, but it goes well with the darker coloring I inherited from my father. Carys insisted on buying my dress for this function. Convincing her to come was the least of my worries. I had more trouble talking her out of the ridiculous wardrobe choices for me.

"So, Native Barbie, are you enjoying the spectacle?" Carys clutches her champagne flute in her manicured hands.

I give her a sideways glance as I sip from my own glass. "Only you could get away with that."

There's a lot of lily-white in me, too, courtesy of my mother. People who need to classify me think I look odd, difficult to pinpoint. My focus skims around the high-ceiling ballroom and catches on the crystal chandelier that lendsthe majority of the light to where we're standing. I let the fingers of my free hand graze the gun attached to my thigh. For an event that was supposed to be small, it seems to have grown much bigger in the weeks since I met with Malik. Women and men in expensive dresses and tuxes mill around us, chatting in loud voices before wandering off.

"You go write your soul cleansing check yet?"

Carys laughs. "And only you could get away with that." Her amber eyes soften when she gazes at me. "How's your dad?"

Still dead.

"Same as always." I give a slight shrug. "The anniversary of Chad's death is hard." Not a lie. At least the emotions aren't, but the details of his death are different for every job. The date, the place, the method of murder are fabrications.

"Well, I hope you and your dad can work out your issues someday. Family is important."

Family. The word echoes around my brain, bumping into memories I keep buried.

Carys flags a waiter to deposit her empty glass and takes another. She signals to me, but I shake my head. "First you insisted on a dress you could move in, and now you won't drink with me. I swear you think someone's lurking around every corner waiting to kill you."

I laugh with her, even though it's not outside the realm of possibility. "You like that I'm prepared."

Carys sighs. "It's true." Her hand nudges a piece of her blonde hair back into its intricate braid. "I'm starting to think Lorcan's not coming. I should have called him and scheduled a meeting. You're right about the territory being ripe for deals if the two of them explode."

"Is it wise to pick a side?"

"Hmm. My side is probably obvious. At least this way it might appear like a genuine coincidence. The charities we support are here, and we happened to run into each other."

I'm about to ask Carys why her side would be clear when I catch sight of a blondish-brown head coming through the open doors of the ballroom. He's dressed in a dark blue suit and a pink tie, not a tux like many of the men. Two men flank him, as tall and broad as the man in the middle, but their suits don't scream money. I tip my head in his direction. "Who's that?"

Carys glances over her shoulder, and her lips curve into a smile. "Speak of the devil."

"Lorcan?" It's him. Malik had photos. They didn't do Lorcan justice. In the flesh, the man is the kind of dangerous, rugged handsome which makes others glance in his direction without realizing they've done it.

"In the flesh," she says as though she can read my mind.

"Have you ever?" I force my focus to Carys. She's fifteen years older than me, which makes her ten years older than Lorcan. Time has been good to her. Well, that and she has a dermatologist and cosmetic surgeon on call.