Page 98 of Black Bird

Brent Stratford: We’re here.

Part of him wanted to tear that little brat apart for being anywhere near her, but this was their plan. At least the lawyer had held up his end and gotten them into the benefit. He heard a knock at the front door andpracticed a more formal strut through the apartment as he went to go open it.

Stupid … that was fucking stupid.

Athan popped a cigarette into his mouth as he unlocked the door. Rhaena and Wren gaped at him. “Oh my … frickin’—” Wren smiled, her mouth wide open.

“No, no … nope.” Rhaena snapped, making a circular motion with her finger at his collar. “That ain’t gonna work.”

“What?” Athan shrugged, lowering his brows. “I don’t look good?” Honest question, but Rhaena wasn’t having it.

“Well …I’dfuck ya.” Wren cackled as Rhaena pushed him backward toward the living room.

“Thanks, Wren.” He winked. Rhaena started tightening the knot on his tie and making to button his shirt back up. Athan swatted her hand. “If men aren’t supposed to tell a woman how to wear a dress like that, then why the hell is it okay for you to be imprisoning me in this fucking collar?” Wren continued to laugh while she leaned against the wall in the hallway.

“Athan you can’t do both, babe. It’s either the open shirt and lose the tie … or just wear it the way it’s supposed to go. Trust me … I’m helping.” Rhaena snorted, her hands on her hips. He had to admit … she looked really nice. He’d never seen her glammed up before. Her hair was up in some sort of rolled … bun thing. She had some earrings that dangled down the sides of her neck, and a sleek green dress that form fit her toned body, leaving very little to the imagination with the strapless top.

“Are you wearing makeup?” He smirked, earning himself a solid fist to his arm. “Fine.” He took the tie off, leaving his shirt open and tossing his hands to the side. “Better?”

“Yes,” Wren approved, grinning.

“Wren, don’t encourage him.” Rhaena rolled her eyes.

“I’m not buttoning this shirt. Take it or leave it.”

“Okay, fine. I forfeit. But we need to go,” she said, straightening his lapels. “I already got a call from the two rookies that were watching Sarah and gave them approval to let her go by herself with Stratford.”

“They’re already there.” Athan crooned.

“She doesn’t know you’re coming, does she?” Wren asked.

“No.” Athan shook his head, securing his badge to the inside of his jacket and tucking his gun into his waistline.

“You know I’m gonna be biting the shit out of my nails waiting for one of you to give me all the details, right?” Wren crossed her arms in front of her and sighed.

“Order a dirty movie.” Rhaena laughed, checking the contents of her matching clutch. They all filed through the door and Athan started locking up.

“You guys look good,” Wren started, standing in the doorway of Rhaena’s apartment. “Take care of our girl, okay? Good luck. I wouldn’t be mad if I heard one of you tripped Brent in front of an oncoming vehicle … just sayin’.”

“Behave your damn self, Vintorri, and I’ll make sure it’s a garbage truck.” Athan wagged a finger at her.

“That’s my boy.”

Rhaena looked between the two of them. “I dunno if I’m liking this newfound camaraderie.”

“You told me to make friends,” he said, turning away and walking toward the elevator. She huffed, struggling to keep his pace and he smirked while he side-eyed her. He couldn’t help himself. He nudged her and she nearly tripped on her dress. Wren howled from behind them and slammed the door shut.

“You’re such adick!” Rhaena squealed, punching him hard in the shoulder. The doors opened and they stepped inside, both of them snickering as they closed.

Conrad had an ankle crossed over his knee, sipping the watered-down scotch in his glass, in a sitting room across from the Grand Ballroom where Boston’s richest citizens were emptying their pockets to the cause. Gretchen stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and making her way over to the small couch across from him.

“Alright, sir. Doing really well, so far. Annie is here with her mother, and she’s been told when to join you at the podium. I think maybe about ten more minutes, and then we should make our way out.” She sat and smoothed her skirt across her lap as she opened her leather binder.

“Sounds good. How’s the turnout?” he asked, a little bored.

“Better than we expected. I think we have over fifty more than we originally planned.” She flipped through a few pages. “You want a copy of the speech?”

“I’d prefer it,” he replied.

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