Page 19 of The Devil in the Details

She lifted her chin and gave a subtle nod in the direction of the fake Van Gogh.

“I have no idea what you mean. I’m just here for the booze and conversation,” he said, draining his glass. He grabbed another from a passing tray. Worry lurked behind his eyes and made his shoulders sag. Under the lights, he appeared waxen and gray. Dull.

Boring, she could hear Mal whisper.

Zelda watched their reflections in the window. Up close, Walker’s glossy perfection was overwhelming. In the reflection, with the cold Martian night on the other side, he was just bland. Technically flawless, but empty.

This was the guy who had her in knots? Who took up so much of her mental energy?

What a waste. She liked his face much better when Mal wore it.

“Was any of it real?” she asked, turning her attention back to him. She didn’t want to know, but she needed to know. Washe coerced? Or did he spot an easy mark with Zelda, someone willing to overlook his inconsistencies, and faked the entire thing?

“It was as real as it needed to be,” he said.

There it was, absolutely the worst response.

“Wow, you could at least try to lie to me and spare my feelings.”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Doesn’t seem worth the effort. Not much about you required much effort, honestly. You were just so grateful for any attention.”

Zelda’s gaze flicked to the heavy glass sculpture. Smashing him over the head with it wouldn’t solve anything, but she’d feel better.

“I wouldn’t,” Walker cautioned. “You don’t want to add assault and vandalism to your list of crimes.”

“Don’t be silly. The spatter would ruin this dress,” she replied coolly.

Walker opened his mouth, no doubt for some cruel and witty retort, when glass shattered.

CHAPTER 6

ZELDA

The far wall exploded, sending glass shards flying into the crowd. A smoking canister rolled across the floor. A panic-filled cry surged through the party goers as they tried to flee the gas. The ventilation system kicked on immediately, drawing away the smoke.

Malgraxon was beside her in an instant. “Are you injured?” He ran his hands over her, searching for nonexistent injuries.

“I’m fine.” She rubbed her watering eyes. “So much for this not being a smash and grab.”

“You did this,” Mal growled, turning on Walker, who held up his hands in surrender.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Walker said.

Another cry of panic rippled through the crowd. A cargo vehicle, the kind used for deliveries, hovered just outside the broken window. Armed men leaped down, glass crunching under their boots.

One strode to the front and fired his rifle into the ceiling. More cries and some sobbing. “Listen up!” he shouted over the uproar. “Don’t try to be a hero and everyone gets to go home tonight.”

Several things happened at once.

Zelda ran a finger over her bracelet, activating the communication function. Contacting emergency services was as easy as mashing her fingers against the screen. The network would determine her location and send a response.

The silver-haired Amiron Yan ran toward Mal through broken glass, with bare feet.

Zelda clenched her teeth, imagining the pain.

“Stay put!” one of the robbers shouted, then fired a shot into the floor.

Amiron flinched but stopped in his tracks. “Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands.

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