Page 114 of Prodigal Son

“You do know how to shoot, don’t you?”

“I’m…a sniper.”

“Excellent. Now, put your arms down and hold still.”

Much to Raven’s surprise, working like this kept her mind off Cass, and helped along the time between the meeting and the eventual execution of their hairbrained scheme to get her back. She retreated into her professional persona, and let her work-brain do all the, well, work.

Though tousled and careless, Evan had admirable bone structure, and his dark tan boasted a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and under his amber-brown eyes. She made short work of taming his hair, with lots of wax and the aid of a few well-hidden bobby pins. Then onto his face; here she had to be careful, wanting to draw attention to the freckles, rather than cover them. Defining marks were in now, thank goodness, and no longer things to be hidden beneath layers of caked-on foundation. She highlighted his eyes, drew them out with dramatic shadow, and cat-eye liner, and a few careful glue-on lash extensions. Bronzer for his high cheekbones, and a bit of gold on his lips.

“Um,” he said, fidgeting in his chair. “This feels like…a lot of makeup.”

“It looks tasteful, don’t worry.”

Then it was Reese’s turn.

She hesitated, caught off guard yet again by the utter stillness of him. He sat ramrod straight, hands pressed flat to his thighs, breathing so slow and measured it was hard to detect, gaze fixed somewhere unseeing in the middle distance. He didn’t blink. It gave her a chance to examine him up close: his pale eyes, and pale lashes, and the eerie doll-like quality of his face.

She reached for her brushes, but again hesitated.

His gaze focused, suddenly, an awareness coming into his eyes. It still wasn’t entirely human, and she just barely caught herself before she recoiled from it.

He looked at her, direct, without a scrap of self-consciousness.

She bit back a startled gasp. Swallowed it down. She lifted one of her brushes. “I think – I think we’ll use blues and blacks. A little olive, to match the clothes. Really make your eyes pop.”

He studied her a long, fathomless moment, then nodded once and shut his eyes, face tipped up to her. She would have called it trusting, but there’d been nothing like human emotion in his gaze.

She glanced over at Evan, who shook his head, gold-tinged lip caught between his teeth.

Raven took a shaky breath. “Alright. Here goes.”

~*~

Albie bit his lip, and Axelle knew he was nearing the end of his patience.

Still, she rearranged the cards in her hand and said, “Go fish.”

“This is such a stupid game,” he muttered.

“Says the guy who got himself blown up.”

He scowled down at his hand of cards, and muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?”

He grunted in response.

“Flash left some oxycontin, why don’t you–”

“No.”

“Albie–”

“I saidno.”

“You’re being an asshole,” she informed him.

“Then why don’t you leave me alone?” A mean question, but she heard the true curiosity in his voice, the lack of heat. The uncertainty.

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