Page 26 of Dirty Ex-Mas
“Oh, that.” He waves a hand dismissively in the air. “I stopped all that long ago. In fact, I think Quinn was the last girl I even met from one of those. Laurel and I met through mutual friends.”
He changes the subject to something almost irrelevant. My eyes wander and I see someone who looks remarkably like Quinn, except I know she isn’t on the guest list, so it can’t be.
David and I exchange small talk, and he tells me more about the wedding plans. Still, my eyes continue to return to the Quinn lookalike as she makes her way around the perimeter of the room, her hands held in an awkward position over her midriff, as though she’s hiding something. I subtly shift David to the side so I can see her better.
He looks at his watch. “Hey, you know what, bro? I need to make an announcement here in just a sec,” he says. “Just to thank everyone for coming, that sort of thing. Will you excuse me?”
“Of course. I’m just going to get another glass of champagne.” I raise my empty glass at him to punctuate the point and make my way toward the woman I saw earlier, depositing my champagne flute on a small table as I go.
I hear David speaking in the background, but I’m focused on finding the woman. She’s easy to find in her deep green dress amidst the sea of black and red that adorn the remaining partygoers. She pushes her way from the wall through a small group of people, as if to see who’s speaking.
Goddamn it. ThatisQuinn.
What in the hell is she doing here?
I quickly make my way to where she’s standing in time to see her pull a gun from behind her clutch and raise it in David’s direction. I grip her hip with my left hand and lean into her right ear. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
She startles with a low shriek. Her arms fly into the air—her clutch goes in one direction, and I grab the gun before it can go in the other, quickly getting the situation under control.
At least until someone yells, “Gun!”
Then all hell breaks loose.
13
Mack
“Mr. Tremblay? There’ve been reports of someone with a gun. You need to come with me so we can get you to safety at once.” I grab David’s arm and pull him toward the rear of the house where the service entrances are. Daria knows that’s her cue to come get us.
By the time we are there, she’s waiting with the engine of the large SUV idling.
She’s in disguise, not that David gives her much attention anyway. He’s more concerned about saving his own hide than with anyone else. I give her my attention, however, because she looks fucking hot. To me, Daria has a Sydney Bristow vibe from the TV showAlias.
Tonight, that couldn’t be clearer: shoulder length, stick straight, fire-engine red wig, combined with heavy eye makeup, and nude colored lips. Tight black leather pants, equally tight black turtleneck, and I’m assuming some style of boot. She always wears boots. I love her in boots. I love her more in these getups, nothing gets me hotter.
I push Tremblay into the back seat and climb in after him. Daria takes off, purposely squealing the tires to show David the “urgency” of the situation, while I get a (fake) update in my feed from the security company. “Copy,” I say into my wrist in response.
“Laurel and the other family members are secure,” I tell David.
“What in the fuck just happened?” David asks.
“Well, Mr. Tremblay, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone just tried to kill you.”
“Me? Why?”
“You tell me?”
“I don’t have any enemies. Laurel and her family don’t have anyone who would want to kill them.”
“Well, you had a guest there who definitely wanted to kill someone.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you to the security team’s safe house until the gunman is in custody.”
“Who’s she?” he asks about Daria as if he finally notices who’s driving.
“That’s the driver,” I answer.
