Page 35 of Dirty Daria
“Someone who wanted to kill him wouldn’t make that kind of mistake.”
“That’s what I said.” I pause, then ask her what I really want to. “What do you think the chances are that he did it to himself to throw us off?”
“Throw you off what?”
“Mislead us or just take the focus off him as a scumbag for a minute while we focus on him as a poor victim in fear for his life.”
“He’s always struck me as a weasel, it would make sense if he faked it.”
Quinn comes rushing out of the ballroom, frantically looking right and then left, sees us and runs in our direction. “Mack, you gotta come quick. It’s Reed, I think he’s in trouble.”
18
Quinn
So far, the entire day has met my expectations for a society wedding. Lots of fanfare with over the top delivery. I mean, first the street closures and the security, the need for everyone to bring their invitation with them to gain access, metal detectors just outside the church and then again outside the reception venue.
A long and drawn out ceremony filled with twelve too many reminders of just how self-important the wedding couple are. To be followed by a reception that rivals the offspring of a three-ring circus with an open bar combined with a Hollywood industry award ceremony. Dressed up pandemonium enclosed in a small space, with lots of drinks, picture taking, and people watching.
I tried not to take offense at how lackluster the gang’s response to my sneaking into the wedding was, but it was hard. I figure it was pretty badass of me to get in. Past the roadblocks and security, and ignoring the event is for an ex,anddefying the orders of all three of them. Plus, I look pretty.
But, past Reed’s initial surprise, it seems to have been forgotten. In fact, after he danced with the rest of the wedding party as required, we walked to the bar. It’s set up like a real bar, where there’s a section to sit at and drink and a place you can walk up to and order to go. Reed parked us in side by side stools, ordered a “whiskey, straight, and whatever she’s having” then proceeded to drink. A lot.
Not that I blame him really, I mean it must be hard to know that someone you care about has been lying to you for so long. And about something so horrible as being involved in the sex slave trade. I don’t think Reed knows yet that David might also be involved in Katya’s disappearance and death. Even I was surprised to hear that and I have a pretty active imagination when it comes to crime and who might be involved in what.
Reed was on his third whiskey when David came up to tell him he thought someone tried to kill him. David was so caught up in spewing his story that he didn’t notice me at first. Until he did.
“Quinn. Wow. Hey, how are you?” David asked.
“Good. Congratulations.” I’d waved my hand toward the reception to indicate what I was congratulating him on.
“Thank you,” David said. “What are you doing here? You look beautiful. Are you two together?”
“No!” Reed stood, pointed a finger at David with one hand, and grabbed my hand with the other. “Mine.” He pulled me up against him. My heart started beating out of my chest. Not only was my body flush up against Reed’s, but he’d also just laid claim to me. While I was reeling, he pointed at David again and said, “Stay.”
He motioned to another agent about David, then dragged me with him to interrupt Mack and Daria. He and Mack had words, I tried to interject when Reed wasn’t telling the story right, but Mack covered my mouth with his hand. Sometimes I adore Mack, other times not so much.
But, right after that, Reed pulled me onto the dance floor and went ahead and rocked my world further. First, Reed can dance.
Well.
Even after multiple whiskeys.
Second, he smelled good. His cologne just jibed with my central smelling system and made me swoon.
Third, I WAS IN THE ARMS OF REED ROBERTS!
It doesn’t get any better than that. Unless you count now, where our dance is continuing to another song. Meaning Reed and I danced through one song and are now starting another. I wonder if he can feel how fast my heart is beating. I try to sneak the hand that is resting on his shoulder over to his neck so I can check his pulse. I need to know if I affect him the same way he does me.
Just two fingers to the side of his neck is all I need. But as I get mine closer, he moves my hand back to his shoulder. Like the standard dance pose is even necessary anymore. He’s been to bars; in today’s scene, you can pretty much have sex on the dance floor and call it dancing.
I run my hand down his chest, resting it over his heart. But it’s hard to feel it through the jacket lapel and his shirt underneath. Plus, I think Reed wears undershirts as well. Leaving me no choice but to run my hand under his coat and feel up his chest.
“Are you feeling me up or pick-pocketing me?” His voice is low in my ear. It’s sexy.
“Both,” I tease.
“My wallet is in my other pocket.”
