Page 41 of Ravens
“We’re not going there.” He sits forward, pulls something out of the pile, and tosses it at me. The stiff card skates across the top of the other papers, and I trap it with my hand.
It’s an invitation. “A party?”
“A gala . . . more like a statesman’s garden party, but guess who’s on the guest list.”
“The Director,” I reason.
“And me,” he adds. “With a plus one, of course.”
The invitation is made out to one “David Crossley.”Crossley. I sift through more papers, but there is so much information, some irrelevant, some not seeming to fit this party at all. It’s like there are multiple different missions mixed together.
That’s becausethere are. He’s testing me again.
He might not know what I am exactly, but he suspects something, and that suspicion has been growing steadily and perhaps even honing itself. I grip the back of my neck and bow my head as I drop the paper in my hand on the table.
Whatever he thinks about me, this plan is fucking insane. He can’t hit the Director in the middle of a party and expect toget away with it. There is no way there won’t be security, plus the Director knows exactly what I look like—he invented my fucking job.
I exhale and stare at the invitation again. “Please don’t take this risk,” I whisper.
“Why not?” He lifts a glass to his lips and sinks back into the couch, balancing it on his thigh.
“Just . . . make it make sense for me, please.”
“I really want to. Believe me.”
My mind reels again, delving through everything I know and trying to fit the pieces together. Kill one Director, they’ll appoint another, and what does eliminating this one achieve anyway? Absolutely nothing. It puts us both in danger . . . a lot of danger.
But I can’t say that. I can’t question this man’s agenda while doing my best to hide my own.
I tap the invitation. “What do you need me to do?”
His attention switches to it and back to me, and he lets his head fall to the side slightly as he regards me and takes another drink. “Look good and do what you're told. I expect that will end up being very difficult.”
Crawling forward, I take the glass from his hand and set it on the table as I settle between his knees and rest my cheek on his thigh. “I’m a good dancer.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“I can talk politics and policy all day or pretend like my children are my world,” I add softly. “If you want me to light up the room, I will . . . or I can fade into the background.”
Those same heavy eyes watch me quietly.
“Promise me you won’t let them grab me again, and I’ll do what I’m told.”
His fingers graze my cheekbone. “I won’t let them grab you.”
I nod.
“Trust me.”
Closing my eyes, I nod again. This party could be the end of everything for me if it doesn’t go to plan. But I don’t have a choice. I could say no and put up a fight, but he’d drag me there anyway. I do believe he’ll do his best to keep me out of their hands . . . but he’s just one man.
My hands slide up his thighs, and I rise, kissing his chest, trailing my mouth down his body as I work his pants down. He strokes the side of my face and laces his fingers in my hair as the broad tip of his hard shaft juts into the underside of my chin.
Taking it in my hand, I lock eyes with him while I guide it into my mouth.
His head falls back with a deep groan, and I push him to the back of my throat hard enough to make my eyes water. A quiet rumble comes out, and he cups my throat, squeezing gently as he pushes deeper into my mouth, forcing me to swallow him.
A tear leaks from the corner of my eye as I’m robbed of air for a moment, but he wipes it with his thumb as he withdraws, and I take a quick breath before pushing him back in.
