Page 12 of Falcon's Prey

The last thing I wanted was to talk about my mother. I remembered the day I asked my father why I didn’t have one. I didn’t know if he explained it wrong, or if he’d intended to say it the way he did it, but all I got from it was that I was responsible for my mother’s death. I’d been a screwup since the day I was born. Yay me.

Not wanting to talk about this, I changed the subject.

“I think I might like blonds. You know, other than you.”

Lilah snorted. “No, you don’t. You like Charlie Hunnam, and Tim Austin, that’s about it, and yet you argue that their hair color is brond and not blond.”

“I do not,” I told her.

“Do too.”

“I hate you,” I said with a smile.

The yacht had circled the lake for longer than I expected. A little part of me felt guilty for doing this; the other part didn’t care. I mean, it was my life, and I was allowed to do what I wanted, when I wanted. For years I begged my father to stop with the ridiculous amount of security. I got it. We were rich. But come on! It was like we were the first family of the United States. My dad exaggerated things.

“Here.” Lilah handed me a glass of champagne.

“No, thanks,” I said.

Lilah shrugged and sipped from that one as well. I smiled at my best friend. One thing she loved was her wine and champagne.

“You didn’t touch the booze, you said no to the joint that was being passed around, and didn’t even grab a party favor.”

“I’m not in the mood,” I told her.

My head was not in the right place. And I wasn’t completely irresponsible. I didn’t touch party favors unless I knew where they came from. I got my weed, coke, and molly from a top-notch dealer—no cut-down shit for me.

I sighed with relief when I saw the yacht making its way to the pier. I could finally go home and relax. Lilah was tipsy, and I was sober; it was a rare night, that’s for sure. Grabbing Lilah’s hand, I dragged her down to the pier with me.

“Excuse me.” I pushed people out of the way. “Coming through.”

“Damn you, Ember,” Whitney shouted when her champagne spilled on her dress.

“Sorry. Send me the bill.”

What was everyone’s hurry to be the first out? I was so annoyed, I just wanted to be alone. Once my heels made contact with the pavement, I sighed in relief. We were walking toward the street where we could hail a cab when I saw him.

I felt a chill run through my body.

Ren Falcon did not look happy.

He was leaning on a pillar; his jaw was set, and even from here I could tell how pissed off he was. Something like dread stirred inside of me. I was used to looks of disappointment from my father and Sammy, and anger from my uncle. Usually, my bodyguards acted more like I was a hindrance than anything else.

Ren pushed off from the pillar, making his way toward us, and I wanted to go back onto the boat.

“Ember, Lilah, you two are going to the after-party, right?”

I turned my head to look at Zeke, our host. He loved having Friday parties and games on his yacht.

“I don’t think so,” Lilah said as she patted his cheek.

“Yeah, I’ll pass,” I said as I tried to pull Lilah with me.

Zeke grabbed Lilah’s other arm, dragging her to his body.

“You two sluts never say no to a party.”

“Let me go.” Lilah started to push him off her. One thing we hated was being called sluts.

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