Page 172 of The Black Trilogy

As I’d hoped, the aforementioned slimeball turned his attention to me instead.

“How about you pay me what he owes instead?”

“What does he owe you for?”

“Rent. Everyone who sleeps on my patch ‘as to pay their dues. And guess what? Now I’m charging interest.”

“Really? In that case, hold on while I get my chequebook out. Or do you take MasterCard?”

He paused, surprised, long enough for Ryan to come haring past and plant himself in front of me.

“Don’t you touch her.”

For goodness’ sake… “Dude, I’ve got this.”

“No way. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Oh, I think I do.”

Ryan squared up to the slimeball. “You’ll have to go through me to get to her.”

Aw, that was actually kind of sweet. My husband never defended me that way. He just stood back and took notes so he could point out all my faults later.

But it was also stupid.

“Honestly, I’m good here.”

“No, it’s—”

The slimeball had enough of waiting and took a swing. Ryan ducked and sidestepped, and even managed a couple of good punches before the guy got him on the ground.

Then I knocked the slimeball’s teeth out with one swift kick, and just like that, my night was complete. I got twitchy if I went too long without a good punch-up.

Anyhow, I’d liked Ryan’s courage and his willingness to fight for what he believed in, so when the rain stopped, I took him out for dinner. And gave him a job.

Now twenty, he still worked in Blackwood’s London office. Yesterday, he’d done a wonderful job of convincing the cops that he was a lone nut gunman while another eight guys climbed up the fire escape around the back of the conference centre and snuck in through a first-floor window.

My introduction and his speech were scheduled to take place between the starter and main course. That would give the guests something to talk about over dinner, and it was easier than trying to get their attention at the end when everyone was drunk and half asleep. Far better to have the auction afterwards when the alcohol had loosened their purse strings. Bradley had managed to coax over thirty lots out of various acquaintances, everything from dinners to holidays to cases of wine. He’d perfected his tactics over the years—mostly he kept bugging people until they gave him stuff to go away.

Luckily, he had no shame.

Meanwhile, Nick came over and handed me a glass of white wine.

“Slightly more ladylike than the beer, my darling. Are we going in for dinner?”

“I thought I’d skip the starter.” Carpaccio of beetroot with goat’s cheese, apparently. Not my favourite, and I’d rather go hungry than be stared at like a zoo exhibit. “You go ahead if you want, though.”

Nick stayed, and so did Ryan. We snagged a table in the corner and hid behind our glasses until a member of the organising committee came out to fetch us.

What was I doing here? I wasn’t ready, not for this, but it was too late to escape. Nick took point, and I hung back as he picked up the microphone and got everyone to shut up. The room went silent as he introduced me.

“Now a few words from our founder, Emerson Black.”

Everyone’s eyes followed as I walked from the back of the ballroom to the stage. I hated being the centre of attention. The shadows were my home, and when I’d taken to the light in the past, I’d always had my husband’s support. Without him, I felt naked. My nails dug into my palms as I clenched my fists, and I forced myself to relax. If I popped off an acrylic, I’d have to face Bradley’s wrath.

But first, I had to face the audience. Smile, Emmy.

“When I started the Blackwood Foundation almost a decade ago with Nathaniel Wood and my late husband, little did I know how big it would grow. Nathaniel is unable to join us tonight, but like me, he wishes to extend his heartfelt thanks to each and every one of you for coming to lend your support. Thanks to your donations, we’ve been able to fund safe places for underprivileged teenagers to stay and counsellors to give them the support they need. Your expertise and time, so willingly given, teach these young adults what their parents have not.”

---