No Love for the Wicked (19 page)

After we hung up, I stared at the clock in the kitchen. Six more hours until the gala. I think I had enough whiskey to make it that long. Maybe.

Just breathe.

The dress was a last-season’s John Richmond bought on sale, not a custom design fit to my every curve. There was no stylist pouring me into it, pinching and primping as they sweated with fear. The shoes were from some store and matched as well
as could be expected when not made especially for the dress. The earrings were mine—one-carat diamonds I’d been wearing the day I’d escaped.

Just keep breathing.

My hand shook, and eyeliner smeared across my lid. Again. I grabbed some more toilet paper and wiped off the black smudge. Maybe I could get by with just the foggy eye shadow and mascara—those looked somewhat decent. No. I could do this. I looked at myself in the mirror again. This was a Network mission. Not one of Father’s estate parties. I would not be bound and gagged as soon as the last guest left. I would not have to run and hide when the servers started clearing the buffet, hoping that maybe this time Father wouldn’t come searching for me. This dress would not be ripped to shreds by tools tearing into my skin, searching for the most painful organ to penetrate. I would not be left in a cold anteroom somewhere away from the main house, where my screams wouldn’t be heard as I bled out on a filthy floor.

The eyeliner pencil in my hand melted over my fingers as power sizzled inside me.
Damn it!
That was the second pencil I’d ruined like that. The packet came with only three of them.
OK, let’s try this one more time.

I’d gotten a halfway straight line over my left eyelid when the quiet beep of the alarm made me jump. I stretched my neck to see the clock in my bedroom: 7:50 p.m.
Crap.
I was late.

The need to rush steadied my hand, and I managed to get the rest of the liner on in one quick swoop. There. I was as party-ready as I was going to get. I’d moved to the kitchen to fill my flask when Jon knocked briskly on the front door, then strolled right in.

“Almost ready,” I said over my shoulder. “Thirteen texted me to say that he, Heather, and Charles are all set in the surveillance van.” I grabbed my thick silk wrap. The black-and-gray-print
dress clung tightly to my bust and bodice, then flared at the hips in a soft flow to just below my ankles. The satin heels kept the hemline from brushing the floor. My hair was up in a loose twist with wispy tendrils around my face and neck. It was a look I’d worn on several occasions when Father especially wanted my neckline visible. The rabbit-fur lining of the wrap would keep my bare shoulders warm. I shrugged it on, thinking,
What the hell, Jon? Help a lady with her coat much?

Clutch in hand, I gave him a quick once-over. “You look nice.” His tux was off-the-rack but fit him well. Lean in the hips, no tails. He’d gone with a silver ascot that accented my dress rather than the standard tie. His hair was slicked back, emphasizing his strong jawline. I was about to compliment his choice of accessories when I noticed—
oh shit, he’s gone glassy-eyed.
His mind had turned numb with lust as he stood frozen in the doorway, ogling me.

“God damn it!” I tried to pull back my aura more, but I was already forcing down my sensuality as far as I could get it. I pulled out my cell phone. His hand shot out and grabbed my phone before I could dial Thirteen’s number.

“No,” he said, blinking quickly. “I’m good. I’ve got it.” He swallowed a couple of times. “It was just…a surprise, that’s all.” I gave him a measuring look. “For real,” he insisted. “I’m fine.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You might be, but what about everyone else at the party? Damn it, I told Thirteen this might happen.”

“Magnolia, it’s fine. Thirteen expected something like this. We’re arriving late, so we’ll just slide right into position for the slide show. You won’t even see half of the people there. Those you do see will be too distracted by your cleavage to notice the small group of agents sneaking into the executive levels. It’s the perfect way to use your powers without actually using your powers.”

I should have known Thirteen had planned for something like this.

“It is going to work, Magnolia,” he said. “We’ll make it work. We have to get in to that PC, and this is the best chance we have. Do you want to have to turn invisible again? You want to sneak into your father’s office like you did with your uncle last year, when Theo and I had to clear the building to get you out?”

“Of course not. But I can’t do this if I draw the attention of every man in the place.”

“You’re not even going to see every man in the place.” He looked me up and down, shrugged. “Maybe you could just keep the shawl thing on. That helps.”

I gave him a look. He sighed. “Look, Magnolia, you’re beautiful. Not because of your powers or your…aura or whatever. You’re going to be noticed by the people around you. But that’s OK. As long as your father isn’t one of the men around you.” He turned serious. “You know, we’ve been over every contingency possible, including your father discovering you before we’re done. It all works great on paper, but I need to know, are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Thirteen had asked me the same thing when he’d cornered me in Jon and Heather’s driveway after Thursday night’s meeting. After all, the man thought I was dead. It would be far from a happy reunion. I’d assured him I’d be fine. Father would be in his office until it was time for his speech, then onstage and in view of the crowd the entire time we were there. If everything went to plan, I would be in and out and never be anywhere near the man.

Of course, as Colin’s mission proved, things rarely went to plan.

I took a swig from the whiskey bottle still on the table. “If I run into him, I’ll deal with it. It won’t change my responsibility to the team.”

He measured me a moment longer. “OK, then, let’s go.”

I checked my handbag: whiskey-filled flask, lipstick, tissues, fake ID, ticket for the gala. Yep, I was ready. I locked the door behind me and was surprised to see Jon standing by his sedan, holding open the door.

“Er, thanks,” I said and crawled in, careful not to snag my gown. He shut the door and walked around to his side. As he turned over the engine, he gave me a sideways glance.

“I was instructed to treat you as if this was a real date. With the respect afforded a real lady.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I bet Heather gave you a nice little talking-to before you headed out tonight.”

His jaw tightened. “The talking-to wasn’t from Heather.”

My lower tummy tingled. This time, I turned to face out the window as I allowed myself another smile.

Father had developed his company’s newest complex on a large stretch of used-to-be farmland in one of the budding suburbs north of the city. There were other office towers and outlets on the wending drive, but the manicured industrial road dead-ended at Kelch Inc. Very fitting, if you asked me. I mean, everything that crossed Father’s path eventually
dead-ended
, right?

“That’s the Capital One Tower,” Jon pointed out as we passed a tall building on our left. The glass windows lit up like a broken checkerboard reaching to the night sky. “Thirteen and the others are in the parking garage in the back. It was the closest we could get without actually being on the Kelch compound. You know where the rendezvous location is, right? Off Washington Street? It should be a pretty smooth exit as long as we stagger our departures.”

I nodded absently. My stomach was in knots. I appreciated him letting me know the whatnots of the operation, but right now I didn’t care. I needed to focus.

“Here we go,” he murmured. We drove up to a stationed guard post. The compound was surrounded by a gleaming ten-foot chain-link fence—not as fancy as the brick wall that circled the downtown headquarters but still pretty intimidating. My mind flashed to the white-and-black stone barricade that lined my family’s estate. Cameras watched every inch of the grounds, secured to trees, hidden in the foliage. I’d had to turn completely invisible to get past the wall when I escaped. Here the cameras sat in plain view, zooming in on every guest. I ducked my head automatically and rummaged through my purse for my fake ID.

“Good evening,” the guard said when Jon rolled down his window and presented our invitations. The guard scanned the vellum card with a handheld scanner, then did the same with our IDs. I should have known Father’s security would be tighter than the freaking Pentagon.

Jon moved forward when directed. “You OK?” he asked softly.

“Fine. Great.” He glanced my way. The parking lot lights reflected off the side of his face. “Be careful,” I said. “You can see your wire when the light catches it.”

He ran a few fingers through his hair, adjusting the nearly invisible cord of his earphone. “Better?”

“Yeah.” I pulled down the mirror to check my face and make sure my own earphones weren’t visible. Everything was in place. Now if I could just stop feeling like I’d throw up any second.

When he cut the engine, I took a moment to steady myself. I looked up at the shiny new building before us. There was a sidewalk that led from the parking lot to the main entrance. We’d have to walk nearly a quarter mile, past two brightly lit fountains and up two flights of concrete stairs, to get to the row of glass doors that opened to the lobby. Every light in the building seemed to be on, making the entire place glow like some sort of capitalist beacon.

“Quite a testament, huh?” Jon said, staring up at the building with narrowed eyes. “Like lie enough, cheat enough, and kill enough, and you too could run a corporate palace of your own.”

I sniffed a laugh. “Don’t forget about the power thing. You have to have supernatural abilities and a complete lack of moral code as well.”

He smiled tightly. “Right. How could I forget that?”

We got out of the car, and my feet felt like lead.
Don’t think about it. Just stick to the mission. Focus.

Jon offered me his arm, and we started our walk toward the fountains. The sidewalks were packed with late arrivals hustling in their fancy dresses and churchgoing suits. The average executive didn’t exactly have a variety of tuxedos or ball gowns hanging in his or her closet. I could feel the excitement of the people around us. This was nothing more than a party to them, a rare and fun occasion to get dressed up and celebrate the efforts of the past year. They had no clue that all the work they did—whether it was answering customer complaints over the phone, or selling a new product line, or coming up with some new medication or new kind of dish soap—was nothing more than a means to secure Father’s economic power. Oh sure, they might notice that Bob, the onetime VP of marketing, suddenly wasn’t with the company anymore. But it would never occur to them that Bob had been gutted out in the estate’s north barn because he’d asked too many questions about overseas shipments.

We got halfway up the front steps when the air changed. My feet stopped moving. Something felt wrong. I reached out with my senses, and the power inside me suddenly jumped. Like someone had hit my supernatural side with defibrillators, bringing that dark, bloody place inside me to new life.
Oh God.
Strength in the bloodlines—how could I have not expected this? The closer I got
to him, the stronger my dark powers grew. I was a fool for coming here.

Thick and cold, power vibrated everywhere. My body trembled. I fought to continue pushing back my power, and it grew hot inside me. My vision began to shift; a light-pink hue tinted the glass doors in front of us. For the first time in months, that bloody place inside me was in the presence of the same darkness. All the rage and pain and hate rose instantly to meet the new power head-on.

Jon took my free hand in his to move me along, then quickly jerked away as if burned. “Shit,” he hissed. “What the hell?” He stared down at me, and when I turned to him, he was pink and turning darker. His eyes grew wide. “You need to calm down, Magnolia. Right now. For Christ’s sake, get control of yourself.”

My anger spiked before I could push it back, my vision darkening to nearly red. “Don’t you fucking talk to me about control,” I growled.