Page 58 of Bad Moon Rising
Roman watched Nova, who hadn’t heard but was leaning over to look at something in the water, which outlined her perfect ass. Jesus, she had to be doing this on purpose. He might spontaneously go up in flames before they even met his mother.
Flynn chuckled and hit him with his shoulder again before he left the boat first.
Catching up to Nova, Roman helped her through the entryway onto the yacht. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered.
She smiled at him and didn’t look the least bit worried, which scared the hell out of him.
The yacht—sleek, modern, and uber expensive—housed a buttload of staff, a combination of her personal mercenaries and domestics. Each worshipped his mother. Of course, any who turned on her didn’t live long. Although it looked like a luxury boat, it was a fully equipped battle station complete with anti-missile defense and ballistic command center that monitored hacked channels of governments and some private mercenary groups around the world.
His mother came topside to greet them. Her white-blonde hair styled in a bob made her look closer to thirty than the many hundreds of years old she was. She came off conservative in her white A-line dress, but she’d probably found the strappy, ultra-high-heel red shoes on a shelf labeled “Pure Sex,” which shattered the image.
With arms wide, she engulfed Roman in a hug and kissed him on each cheek. She said, “How I missed you, darling.” Then she embraced Flynn. “And you, love. Is that a new eyebrow piercing?” She glanced around. “Where the hell’s Ky?”
“We don’t know.” Flynn adjusted his suit jacket and shirt as if they chafed. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
“I know you’ll find him. It’s bloody unacceptable to lose another one of you to that despicable curse.” She compressed her lips into a thin line. “Yet, you’ve brought me a visitor?” She looked between the two of them. “Roman, you could have spared a moment to send me a message you’d found a girl.”
“She’s not…we’re not…” Roman trailed off.
His mother’s eyebrows slowly rose.
Too perceptive. This was about to get embarrassing.
“I’m Evie.” His mother held out her hand to Nova. “It’s short for Evangeline, but if you attempt to use my whole name, I’ll kill you.” All of this was delivered in a pleasant, would-you-like-some-tea tone.
Nova shook her hand with a smile. “Nova. I don’t think it’s short for anything.”
Evie tapped her lip. “You look familiar.”
Nova’s face lit up. “You know me? I can’t—”
“That’s it,” Evie interrupted. “A contract offer is circulating for you.”
Roman yanked her behind him and glared at his mother. He wasn’t sure if he could take her down if she attacked, but he’d try.
“Jesus, Roman. Stand down. She’s with you, love. She’s safe from me. I didn’t know she was one of us when the job came through. Besides, they didn’t offer enough to pique my interest.” Evie waved her hand dismissively. “I can see this will be a complicated story, one not for public consumption. Inside.” She spun and led them into the main cabin.
“Nova has amnesia,” Roman rushed to say as he entered.
Flynn said, “Roman was ordered to kill her by King Douche, who was the one that put out the contract on her. But we can’t find anything on who she is or where she’s from.”
“Balls.” Evie burst into laughter. “So of course Roman got himself in a twist and brought her to dinner for me to sort out. We need drinks. Hard liquor.” She snapped her fingers. Staff carrying trays with brown liquor in short glasses and filled champagne flutes appeared as they were ushered into a formal dining room with its table already set.
Evie hooked Nova’s arm, handed her champagne, and dragged her away from Roman. “What do you remember?”
Roman tensed, watching his mother’s every move.
“Nothing,” Nova said. “According to Roman, I was some sort of killer for hire and took out a few people.”
“You were an assassin?” His mom drawled out the question. She broke out into a Cheshire cat grin.
“No,” Roman called across the room. Why she’d bothered moving away when she knew he could hear her whisper at five times that distance was beyond him. “Get the thought out of your head, Mom.”
“Posh, love, I work alone.” Evie waved at him. Then muttered, “Most of the time.” She pulled Nova tighter to her into a small hug and released her.
“You work?” Nova asked, taking in the yacht’s expensive interior.
“Do I look like I need money?” She waved at her opulent surroundings. “Their father left me well-off when he got himself killed during one of his do-gooder schemes. The poor love didn’t remember the one truism of our existence: never trust humans, especially the rich ones.”
