Page 31 of Emperor of Wrath

It was the one thing we couldn’t plan for: a security guard in the parking garage who lingered on one floor too long to smoke a cigarette, throwing off his rotation. It meant he saw me crouched next to the car as I was getting the door open.

When he yelled, I launched into my “bimbo looking for clues that her boyfriend is cheating on her” routine, and when he got close, I pulled out my emergency gas can and sprayed him in the face, knocking him out.

Not my proudest moment.

“Anni…”

“We talked about this, Freya. Anyone who gets dosed with that gas loses their memory for the thirty seconds before it hits their system.”

“But you don’t know how long he was looking at you before he yelled at you and you got close enough to gas him.”

I shake my head. “No. No chance.”

“He might remember your face, Annika. I’m just saying, we should have?—”

“I’m not a killer, Frey.” I turn to see her looking sheepishly at her hands. “Neither are you, for that matter.”

She exhales. “I know. But, that’s our weak link. Just saying.”

“He’ll never place us.”

“Better hope not,” she mutters. Freya clears her throat and nods at the bag in my hand, changing the subject. “That looks suspiciously like a dress.”

“Brace yourself.”

She grins. “Seriously? For what?”

“My engagement party.”

She snorts loudly. I just shake my head.

“Laugh all you like, you’re coming too.”

“Not a chance.”

“Oh, come on. You know how Kir gets with tradition and fancy events, and it would mean so much to him if you came, what with Damian?—”

“You’re an asshole,” she grumps.

“And you love me in spite of it. So…yeah…anyway,” I laugh. “If you’re looking for a dress, I highly recommend this place.” I turn and nod at the shop I just left. “Just…” I roll my eyes. “Never mind.”

Freya frowns. “No, what?”

“I was going to say stay away from green because that’s what I’m wearing.”

“And then you remembered who you’re talking to?” she snickers. “All black, bitch. Maybe I’ll get some extra eyebrow piercings, since it’s your special daaaay,” she coos, laying on the sarcasm.

“Now who’s the asshole.”

7

KENZO

“I’ll stop you right there before you get going,” I mutter, eyeing Mal coolly over the rim of my Old Fashioned.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” he says mildly, a rare hint of a smile on his jaw as he lifts an amused brow and a glass to his lips.

“The million and one jokes. Let’s just not, please?”

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