CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
BECCA
I wish Raven didn’t have to get all tangled up in this—to be honest, no one should be in this mess—but I’m really glad I’m not alone.
Not because I couldn’t handle it by myself, but because I’m terrified one of my fingernails is going to pop off.
Or that I might lose an eyelash. Or break a heel.
Or that the wind might blow my wig away.
And I honestly have no clue how to recover from any of those situations.
If Raven feels uncertain about what she’s walking into, it doesn’t show.
She sits catty-corner to me in the limo, next to Luca, looking calm, cool, and collected, inspecting the deep red polish on her short nails and the stacks of sharp looking rings on her fingers.
The hairdresser responsible for my current costume is acting like we’re on our way to a double date instead of infiltrating a room full of putrid politicians breaking the same laws they claim to uphold.
Hopefully she can help me stay calm, cool, and collected too.
If nothing else, I think she could probably help me kill people.
At the very least, I don’t think she would make it more difficult for me to kill people.
Plus, she seemed fully on board with taking down human traffickers.
It’s possible she has some sort of an experience there that will help her access the divine feminine rage.
I understand how that can happen.
“Everything is going to be okay.” Owen gives me a reassuring smile. “Just stay close to me and don’t talk to anyone you don’t absolutely have to.”
“How am I supposed to get information if I’m not allowed to talk to anyone?” That seems totally counterintuitive to me. “Shouldn’t I be trying to talk to everyone I possibly can?”
Owen’s skin seems to pale a little. “Please don’t talk to everyone you can. If something happens to you, Butch legitimately will kill me, and I don’t want to die single.”
That confuses me even more than him not wanting me to talk to anyone. “Would it be better to die married?” That seems way worse. You would be leaving behind a spouse. Possibly even children.
I think about it for a second, weighing my own feelings about the thought.
It wasn’t long ago that I wasn’t worried at all about dying.
As long as my sister was safe, I didn’t really care what happened to me.
She’s young. Innocent. Has her whole life ahead of her.
I was just sitting at home alone, working, eating the same lunch for weeks at a time.
That’s why it hurt so bad when my parents accused me of being jealous of her. Of wanting a different sort of life. Because I was willing to give mine up for her.
It wasn’t the best life ever, but it was mine. It had value. I wasn’t miserable. I didn’t wake up every day unhappy or dreading what was coming.
But now…
I woke up this morning with a determination I didn’t have back then. Anticipation. Not excitement—I would never be excited about something like this—more of a readiness.
I’m ready to tackle tonight. I’m anticipating finally doing something that might get me to where my sister is.
“I won’t let Butch kill you, no matter what.
” I pat Owen on the knee. “And I promise I won’t get hurt.
” I’m not going to promise him I won’t hurt anyone else, because if I can find my sister—or someone who’s responsible for hurting her—I will probably try to cause bodily harm to anyone standing in my way.
“What kind of a girl are you looking for, blondie?” Raven smooths down the front of her dress before adjusting her gigantic boobs. “I might be able to get you a date with one of the girls I work with.”
Owen seems to perk up. “Yeah?”
Raven shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I’m not saying they’ll like you, but I’m sure she’ll let you buy her coffee.”
“I’ll buy her coffee, dinner, and dessert.” Owen scoots to the edge of his seat, all his focus on Raven. “I’ll take her hiking or rock climbing or to a bookstore. Whatever she wants, I’ll make it happen.”
Raven tips her head, one hand coming to rest across her cleavage. “Awe. Aren’t you the cutest little golden retriever of a man.”
I look at Owen from the corner of my eye.
I’m not sure how she could call him little.
He’s not quite as tall as Butch, but the guy is beefcaked out.
He doesn’t skip a workout, and sure as heck doesn’t miss leg day.
It’s shocking he can run as fast as he can considering all the bulk he’s carrying around.
“I’m not sure a hairdresser is going to be in your wheelhouse.” Raven looks generally remorseful. “We are known to be…” She rocks her head from side to side, eyes squinting as she considers. “A little bit of a handful.”
Owen’s brows lift. “Every hairdresser is a handful?”
Raven smiles wide, her teeth bright white against her almost black lipstick. “Pretty much.” She reaches across the car from where she and Luca sit sideways, patting Owen’s knee the same way I did. “Maybe you should look for a single mom. Possibly someone a little older.”
“Yeah?” Owen brings a hand up to rub along his clean-shaven jaw. “I like kids.”
Raven leans back in her seat. “Well, if I come across any single moms looking for a mercenary of their very own, I’ll send them your way.
Luca and Owen sit a little straighter in their seats at the word mercenary, eyes snapping from Raven to me.
I hold my hands up. “I didn’t tell her.” I cross both arms over my chest, wincing a little as the sequins on my dress scrape the skin of my inner elbows. “But she’s not an idiot. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what you guys are.”
They look at each other uneasily, sitting a little more stiffly for the rest of the ride. Like they aren’t sure if Raven’s going to jump out of the limousine and start announcing that the contract killers have arrived.
For some reason, that makes me laugh a little. At least Owen and Luca get paid for what they do. I did that shit for free.
Does that make me better or worse? Who the heck knows.
Who the heck cares?
The rest of the ride is pretty quiet as we all sort of retreat into our own heads. At least that’s what I do, going over all the possibilities that might be waiting for me at this fundraiser. Tonight’s a chance to prove I’m really capable of what I’ve been claiming, and I am not going to waste it.
When she called me, I promised Amanda I would find her. And I have every intention of doing that.
We’re only a minute or so out when a weird almost staticky sound in my ear makes me jump. Butch’s voice is there a second later. “How are you doing, B?”
The earpiece I’m wearing is so comfortable I forgot it was even there.
Hopefully that means it’s invisible too, because I can’t imagine it would be a good thing if someone notices I have it in.
I still need to be aware of its existence, because if I start acting squirrely every time someone says something, it’s going to be noticeable.
“I’m good. Ready to get this show on the road.
” The car slows down as we turn into the high-end venue hosting the event.
“By the way, I promised Owen you wouldn’t kill him no matter what, so I need you to not murder him, okay?
” The car slows to a stop and Owen reaches for the handle. “Gotta go. Talk to you soon.”
I can’t turn off my earpiece, so I simply turn off the portion of my brain responsible for listening to it. Just for now. I don’t want to be distracted walking into this place. I want to be ready. At the top of my game.
I step out of the limo, and nearly come to a screeching halt as I take in the swarm of people moving toward the doors.
Holy. Fucking. Shitballs.
It’s my introverted self’s nightmare. It’s loud. It’s bright. There are so many colors and textures and noises that I’m overstimulated in about two point five seconds.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you inside so you can have a glass of champagne.” Owen grabs my hand. Holding tight, he gives it a reassuring squeeze while practically dragging me into the building.
The place is decorated like crazy. There are balloons and lights and draping fabric things everywhere. Waiters mill around carrying trays of food and flutes of champagne, passing it out like candy to the people packing the room.
How in the world are they raising money when they are spending so much?
“This is fucking insane.” Raven is right beside me, her eyes wide as she also takes everything in. “I’ve never seen so many over-tanned, droopy-faced men in one place.”
So maybe we weren’t taking the exact same things in. I hadn’t even noticed the physical attributes of the people around me, but her comment reminds me that’s what I’m supposed to be paying attention to. Not the decorations or the noise, but the occupants of the room.
Because at least one of them knows something that will help me find Amanda.
“You can say that again.” Owen snags a flute from one of the waiters as they pass by, handing it to me. “Drink that.”
I stare at the alcohol, remembering how awful it was the last time I drank it. “No thanks.”
“You look like you’re about to start breaking chairs over people’s heads. You need to relax a little.” Owen rests a finger on the base of the flute, lifting it toward my mouth. “Drink your champagne, sweetheart.”
Raven turns to Luca. “Don’t I get champagne, love schmuck?”
Luca keeps his eyes on her and somehow magically manages to grab a flute from the closest waiter without looking. He holds it in front of Raven’s face. “I know what a schmuck is, princess.”
Raven takes the drink from him, tipping it back in one go before shoving it back into Luca’s hand. “Jokes on you, big boy.” She steps close to him, bringing her gigantic boobs right against his chest. “I like being called princess.”
I knew big boy was the right term to use at the bar that night. I turn to Owen. “Should I call you big boy?”