Sherrilyn Kenyon - Silent Truth

“No idea.” He leaned back. His indolent gaze floated down to hers. “But I did meet you somewhere.”

She couldn’t be expected to figure this out with no reciprocal information. “What do you do?”

“I don’t exactly have a job.” He said that in a slow that-I-exist-should-be-enough voice.

She really hated men who did nothing. Harry thought selling diamonds was hard work.

Where were the real men in this country?

“We could get to know each other again,” he said in a tone more suggestive than his words. “Might jog our memories.”

Now that sounded like a line if she’d ever heard one.

Logic kicked in. Sure, he was hot, but underneath all that window dressing slept another lazy pretty boy who didn’t lift a hand to do serious work and would never get involved with a woman like her. A woman who’d grown up with dirt under her nails and calluses on her hands.

Hunter used a finger to toy with an errant curl dangling above her eye.

All the logic in the world didn’t stop the stampede inside her chest at his touch.

Did he know the effect he was having on her?

Of course he did. He was a man, one with lots of Lydias dying to climb into bed with him.

So why is he flirting with me? Because he considered her an easy target who would be thrilled over his attention?

She was pretty flattered, but not enough to feed an ego with an insatiable appetite.

Hadn’t she learned anything six years ago?

All men were jerks.

Never, ever, forget that.

Within an instant, all playfulness vanished from his posture. His gaze flashed up and past her shoulder, alert, at something behind Abbie. The cheating female?

A rumble of excited voices vibrated the room.

She broke away from Hunter and swung around to find out what had everyone buzzing.

Gwen Wentworth had entered the main ballroom. Finally.

Abbie had played “how did we meet” long enough. The way the crowd was flooding in around Gwen, she doubted Hunter could even see his friend’s fiancée any longer. Gwen would disappear into a gulf of humans in the next minute. Gaining her ear for more than ten seconds would be tough at this point.

Hunter owed Abbie an introduction for allowing him to use her as cover. That whole bit about knowing her had probably been a big fat lie just to keep her talking.

Her conscience argued that she’d had a moment of déjà vu, too, when she’d first seen Hunter outside.

Didn’t matter.

She wasn’t asking for much in return and Gwen would be out of reach quickly. “That’s who I want to meet.”

When she didn’t hear a reply, Abbie swung around.

Hunter was gone.

Hunter passed through a sea of faces more intent on being recognized by a Wentworth than noticing his retreat from Abbie. When he made it to the next salon, he whipped around the opposite side of a replica of an Elgin marble statue to observe the excited guests.

And one disappointed Abbie.

Dammit.

She would want to meet Gwen. An innocent enough request any other time, but not tonight.

At least his suspicion of Abbie had abated. If she had some ulterior motive for attending beyond stargazing and rubbing elbows with celebrities she’d have dressed to blend in with the other women and wouldn’t have played along so easily with him.

“Regretting your decision to come alone?” Rae had approached quiet as a thought.

“No.” Hunter kept watch so that no one-Abbie in particular-walked up on his conversation. But the entire room had migrated toward Gwenyth, who shimmered in gold and white like a billion-dollar magnet.

Rae offered him the humble smile of a staff member that he wouldn’t trust right now to turn his back on. “I’m okay with you coming solo, too.”

He sent her a look that said he knew better.

“I’m serious.” Rae’s smile took on life in a sly way. “If I’d been assigned to accompany you I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of watching her walk away from you earlier. Must be a new experience for you to get shot down by a mere mortal.”

“I needed a cover to observe someone. Don’t make it out to be more than it was.”

“That’s right.” Rae handed him a napkin and a flute of champagne. “She couldn’t possibly meet your high standards.”

He didn’t want to discuss anything specific to the mission so he ended the conversation by refusing to engage further. Rae knew nothing about him. Bloodline and family ranking were rock-bottom on his give-a-shit list.

Rae started to move away, paused, then swung around and asked, “Excuse me? What did you need?”

He caught the signal. Something she had to share with him was being transmitted between agents. “Couple napkins. Sloshed my drink.”

“Absolutely.” With perfunctory motions, Rae sat her tray on the nearest available surface and strode back to him with a handful of napkins she used to dab at his untouched tuxedo lapel. She spoke softly. “Your new friend just shoved up close to Gwen, made some comment, then stepped away. Gwen looked shocked, then recovered and excused herself. She walked away but told one of her security something he relayed to the woman you were standing with. Who is she?”

Damned if he knew. “Don’t know. That’s what I was trying to figure out.”

“Head of catering’s walking this way,” Rae whispered, then backed up and spoke louder. “Think that got it. Please, excuse me.” She took a couple strides, grabbed her tray, and hurried over to where a gray-haired man in a black suit spoke to several of the staff. Immediate head-bobbing indicated they understood his instructions before the servers dispersed.

Hunter turned back to search for Abbie in the crowd Gwen had abandoned.

Maybe he’d dismissed her too quickly.

His gaze climbed the grand staircase to the upper landing, where the three men Gwen had been meeting with earlier now stood talking. The Italian-looking woman with the wavy shoulder-length black hair wore a demure royal-blue dress with a jacket and stood a step behind the men again. She moved forward and spoke to the man Hunter thought might be Vestavia, who nodded before she descended the staircase on the far side and blended into the crowd.

Could those men be the three Fratelli Linette had indicated would attend?

What of the Italian woman’s identity? Linette?

Hunter couldn’t go up the stairs to investigate until he had the damned package. The signal would be given on the main floor. He had plenty to keep him busy down here until Linette made the drop and sent the signal.

Like finding out why Gwen had disappeared after talking to Abbie.

Abbie clearly hadn’t come to rub elbows with celebrities.

That niggling worry about tonight’s mission crawled up his neck again. He discarded his champagne flute and headed for the throng of people ebbing back into private fissures within the mansion now that Gwen had vanished.

He and Abbie were going to have another chat. One wrong answer and she’d finish the conversation in shackles. He’d taken three steps when someone on the Wentworth serving staff politely inquired, “Have you seen an emerald-and-diamond earring? A guest is missing one of hers.”

Talk about suck timing.

That was Linette’s signal to retrieve the USB memory stick.

Abbie’s heart raced ahead of her feet. She turned sideways, sliding like a flexible knife through the humans cluttering the Wentworth mansion.

Please don’t let her be rushing into a security ambush that would hand her over to law enforcement.