Hundreds of people milled and chatted in a gold-wallpapered room about the size of a basketball court while servers in starched white shirts and black ties passed through the crowd with trays of weird-looking bite-sized things and tall, skinny glasses of champagne. I took some champagne and pretended to sip as I mingled and searched. Soft classical music flowed over the crowd and through the hum of polite conversation. Huge posters covered with images of missing children lined the wall near the entrance to the main ballroom, and a sign with “Child Find League” in gold letters hung over the door. It wouldn’t be long until the guests abandoned the reception area and headed into the ballroom to eat and listen to boring speeches, and once that happened any chance I had to pull Jane aside and get her out of there would be gone.

I kept a smile on my face and my mouth shut as I clutched my champagne glass and wound my way through the crowd. The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself by saying or doing the totally wrong thing, and I had no doubt my accent would stick out like a sore thumb.

Finally, I spied her listening to a stick-thin man with untidy grey hair, an interested look on her face as he intently explained something that must have mattered a great deal to him, judging by his intense and excited expression. She looked fantastic as usual, in an elegant sleeveless black gown with a subtle drape of fabric on the right hip. Fighting the urge to bull right on over and drag her out by brute force, I instead did my best oh-so-casual saunter to get behind her conversation partner and into her line of sight. Once there, I gave a small wave to get her attention. She flicked a glance my way, smiled politely and then returned her attention to the man. Crap. She didn’t recognize me now that I looked like a respectable human being.

I edged forward a bit more, then gave a bright smile. “Dr. Pennington!” I chirped, focusing hard on not sounding as if I’d just left the farm. “It’s so good to see you again!”

This time her head snapped around. Her eyes widened in shocked recognition, but she recovered quickly and looked back to the thin man “Would you excuse me for a moment?” Without waiting for a response, she disengaged from him then took my arm to steer me away. “My goodness, I didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Yeah, well, I kind of had no choice,” I replied. Shifting my body to block the view of anyone looking our way, I pulled my phone from my purse and brought up the picture of the invitation with her name on it. “Don’t ask me how I got this, please, but there’s a lot of shit going on, and I’m really worried about you.”

Her forehead creased as she looked down at the picture. “But why would any of it put me in danger? Angel, why on earth are you in New York? And have you been in a fight? It looks as if your jaw is bruised.”

My hand flew to my face. No no no. Shit! It wasn’t a bruise. I clearly felt the weird and spongy texture of pre-rot. On my face. I pushed down my horror as much as possible. “No, I slipped on some stairs, that’s all,” I said, then bulled ahead to get her attention off my jaw. “Have you tried to get in touch with Pietro in the past couple of days?”

“Yes,” she said, apparently accepting my lie, at least for the moment. “His assistant told me he was tied up with an unexpected business trip to Italy.”

I shook my head. “No, he’s in trouble, and this,” I tapped the image on my phone, “makes me think you might be as well.”

Alarm flashed through her eyes, but she quickly masked it. “What kind of trouble? Where is he?”

“It’s really hard to explain,” I said, all too aware how weak that sounded, “but it’s why I’m in New York.” I took a deep breath and set my mouth in a stubborn line. “Look, I’m not going to budge from your side until I make sure you get out of here safely with your own security guy.”

She tried to hide her worry, but it showed in the creasing of her forehead. “Victor is right over there,” she said with a slight nod to her left. I glanced over to see a broad-shouldered man in a dark suit looming silently not far away, his eyes hard upon me. “I need to meet with the Sabers, and then I can leave,” she continued. “I can excuse myself with a migraine.”

I shot a hand out to grip her arm. “No, don’t meet with the Sabers!” Victor took a step forward, and I quickly released her. “Or if you do, don’t go anywhere private with them.”

Jane blinked at me, then frowned. “Angel, I’m going to trust you on this,” she said slowly. “That you’re in New York at all tells me there’s something serious afoot. I’ll have Victor with me while I see them here, in this room, and then I will leave.” She fixed me with a hard look. “And then you will tell me exactly what is going on and what happened to Pietro.”

“Yeah, sure thing!” I said, totally lying. Hell, right now I’d promise my soul to the devil if it would get her out of this place safely.

I wasn’t sure if she believed me, but at least she didn’t protest. She gestured Victor over. “I’ll see you outside then?” she asked me.

“All I want is to be sure you’re safe,” I said, not directly answering the question.

Jane simply nodded. “I’ll be out in five minutes.” She gave Victor a smile as he reached her side, murmured to him that she had a headache and would be leaving soon. It was clear he understood it was fiction, but he simply nodded, pulled out a phone, and called for the driver to bring the car around.

I slouched in relief as Jane moved off, and let my gaze drift around to the rest of the event. People were beginning to filter into the ballroom where I could see tables laid out with expensive-looking china and crystal, and decorated with gorgeous centerpieces of white flowers. Jane moved through the crowd with ease to where a tall and stylish blue-eyed woman with honey-blond hair stood with a younger broad-shouldered man. He had the same blue eyes and honey-blond hair as his mother. Nicole and Andrew Saber, both talking to a man with his back to me. Nicole wore an off-the-shoulder, dark red gown with a beaded top and a flowing silky skirt. Andrew wore a tux that sure as hell wasn’t a rental.

Edging slightly closer, I heard Jane greet Nicole warmly, then watched as Jane gave a slight wince and put a hand to her temple, apologized for a headache and her need to leave soon. Damn, but she was

smooth. My admiration for her grew.

Jane shifted her attention to the other man with them, and the surprise in her expression gave me only a whisper of warning before he turned and swept his gaze my way.

Brian. I froze, and my gut gave a horrible lurch. Brian, standing here dressed in a goddamn tuxedo, talking to the Sabers as if they were old friends.

His eyes rested on me briefly, narrowed, and then he continued his casual look-around as if he hadn’t seen me, while my pulse raced like an Olympic sprinter. Was he going to sell me out to the Sabers? Or did he simply figure this was too public a place to take me down? Either way, I knew the risk for Jane had abruptly shot up.

“Congresswoman Pennington,” I heard him say. “It’s a pleasure to see you, as always.”

“Mr. Archer,” Jane replied. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Is Pietro here as well?”

“No, ma’am, he’s not,” Brian said. “I’m up here on my own.”

Nicole looked from Brian to Jane. “Pietro Ivanov?” She tilted her head, smiled. “Oh, yes, I remember seeing something about you two dating. What a shame he couldn’t be here. The chef they brought in for this event is outstanding.”

Jane looked as if she wanted to press Brian for details about what was going on, but she simply gave Nicole a bland smile. “Yes, we’ve been dating for a while. Don’t you remember? We ran into you at the Gourmet Gala in Louisiana.” Then she lifted a hand and made a dismissive gesture. “But I can understand if it slipped your mind. I’m sure you have far more pressing worries than remembering the details of a random congresswoman’s social life.” Jane’s smile remained fixed and her eyes hard on the other woman. The “worries” was no doubt a reference to Saberton’s money troubles. It was clear Jane didn’t care for Nicole Saber one stinking bit.

Tags: Diana Rowland White Trash Zombie Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net