TWENTY-TWO - Alana

TWENTY-TWO

Alana

Isettle in with my third martini in the slinky bar and face my cousins, curious about them. Nico appears relaxed for once after having taken off his jacket, and he seems to be enjoying his Skrewball whiskey. The choice both surprises and amuses me.

He's the one who insisted we all go for drinks.

Scarlett is busy fending off free drinks from tech guys while sipping on a cosmopolitan, and Quinlan is drinking a bourbon, with his jacket hanging off his chair and his sleeves rolled up. He's handsome in a classic Italian way, and his gaze scans the area, as if looking for threats. "We weren't expecting the call to join Aquarius today," he says.

"How do you feel about that?" I ask. He was close with my brother, but I don't know this guy.

"I don't know or really trust you or your father," he admits.

"I like my job at Aquarius as a computer programmer, and taking more responsibility for tech is a challenge I might welcome."

I appreciate his honesty. "Nico and I don't know you, either. However, it would be great if all of you could combine to help charge the crystals once in a while."

He looks at me, his gaze appraising. "I bet you do get tired."

Scarlett taps the table with a red nail. "I never really thought about it."

"Most people don't." Yet another thing Thorn and I have in common, and he doesn't even know it. Yeah, I feel a little vindicated that he assumed there isn't more to know about me than what everyone sees onscreen.

Scarlett snorts. "I've tried to charge crystals before and it's exhausting."

"Me too," Nico adds, motioning to the waitress to bring another round. She has to be in her midforties, and he's flirting with her with all he's worth. She's batting her eyes right back. "Alana, I've never seen you stand up to your father like that before. I was impressed."

"As was I," Quinlan says.

Scarlett shrugs, apparently bored. "Why don't you stand up to your father?"

I smile. "This is my first week on the board of directors. Before that, my job was charging the crystals and posting continually." I do like being the face of Aquarius and directing its focus.

"You have almost six million followers," she says, the sound slightly unwilling. Does she want me to be a bonehead, or is she seeing more to me and isn't sure what to make of it? Not that I care what my cousins think.

"It's necessary," I admit. "We're in trouble because of my absence the last few days, but I'm building on viewer curiosity fast."

Quinlan downs the rest of his glass. "I saw. You're obviously not afraid of Thorn Beathach."

My stomach clenches because that is not a true statement. I'd be an idiot not to fear Thorn.

Scarlett rears up. "Anybody who resorts to kidnapping deserves all the angst we can bring him."

Girl power, huh?

"I agree," I say, my face heating. I wonder where he is right now. I know that he's seen my posts and I can't imagine he appreciated them. Although, every time I send my emotions out into the masses about Malice Media, not only do I gain interest, so does he. So yeah, he probably owes me. I settle back in my seat and warm myself with that fact. The last person in the world I want to assist right now is Thorn, however.

Quinlan smiles as the waitress delivers additional drinks. "Thank you." He pays and gives her a good tip. "Do you know what my new board position means in terms of my daily activities? Your father was rather obscure."

"I have absolutely no idea," I admit.

Nico clears his voice. "I do. You'll be given an office up on the top floor next to Alana's. As will you, Scarlett."

Perhaps we can become friends. "If we really settle you in, you'll have to move back home to California. What do you think?"

"Oh, I'm ready," she says. "I mean, I've enjoyed traveling and working with our employees in other countries, but I wouldn't mind consolidating, having a home."

I make a mental note to help her find a good place to live. It'd be nice to get to know this cousin of mine. She's the closest one to my age but we've just never really had a chance to get to know each other. Much of my childhood was spent in boarding schools, as was hers. Different ones. I barely even remember her parents. I look at Quinlan. "You seemed surprised when I walked in today. Did you not know I was on the board?"

"Oh no," he snorts. "I know you're on the board. I watch you on Aquarius all the time. I just hadn't seen you in person in quite a while—the funeral doesn't count—and you startled me. You look so much like your mother. She was beautiful with all of that curly brunette hair."

I warm. "You knew my mom?"

"Of course," Nico answers for him. "We all did. The extended families were all much closer when your mom was alive. I think after her death, your father pushed everybody away and focused entirely on the business."

I swallow. "I barely remember my mother."

"She was a kind person," Quinlan says instantly, leaning forward. "She made the best peanut butter cookies."

"Oh my God," Nico says, sitting back with a fond smile on his face. "She did. I'd forgotten about that. She would put these pieces of . . . what was that . . . ?"

"Brownie," Quinlan says.

Scarlett laughs. "That sounds like heaven." She sobers. "I wish I could remember her."

As do I. She's merely a wisp of sound or scent of vanilla to me.

"Lanetta was instrumental in keeping the families close." Nico sobers. "When she died, it's like, I don't know, the light went out of everybody, especially Mathias. At least that horrible car wreck didn't take you from us, too."

Impulsively, I lean over and pat Nico's hand. "Thank you for sticking close to Dad and Greg." Nico and Greg were the best of friends. I was so caught up in my grief that I really hadn't checked in with him during the last two months with Greg gone. "How are you doing?"

"I don't know," Nico says. He looks down at his phone. "I hired a private detective to look into his death, and it's suspicious. I'd be better if I could figure out whether somebody killed him."

Quinlan jerks. "Killed him? I thought he was in a car accident over Vulture's Perch."

"An accident just doesn't make sense to me, especially in light of the attack on Alana the other night. It's like the family is on somebody's hit list." Nico scrolls through photographs. "I've been putting together a timeline." He shows a picture.

I sit back. "Is that your apartment?" On one wall is an entire murder board with facts, data, and a big timeline.

"It is," Nico says.

I look at him more closely. There are dark circles under his eyes as if he hasn't slept. "Nico, what makes you think that somebody killed Greg?" I can't breathe. The mere idea is unthinkable. "My father doesn't believe that."

"I don't know what your father believes," Nico says, looking at me bleakly. "He may be conducting his own investigation. I've tried to talk to him several times, but I can't get anything from him. If he has facts, I need to know them."

"So do I," I say, rearing up, my stomach clenching. "If you truly believe this, then I'm going to help you, but you have to tell me why."

He rubs the back of his neck. "We were together that night, partying over at the Green Train Tavern. Quinlan was there."

Quinlan nods. "Yeah. We had a lot to drink that night, and I left before you two."

Nico rolls his neck. "Greg was meeting some girl, I don't know. He had more women than I could count, and we had too much to drink. He drove me home, but he had sobered up by then. He seemed calm. We had a good discussion. Then all of a sudden he drives off a cliff on the way home from my place? Come on. You know what a good driver Greg was."

It's true. My brother had actually competed on the semipro racing circuit. "The police report says it was an accident," I murmur.

"But the police report can be faked," Quinlan says grimly. "Who would want to kill Greg?"

"Nobody," I burst out. "I mean, nobody I know. I guess it's possible one of the other families took him out. But why?"

A muscle ticks in Nico's jaw. "If something happened to one of us, Greg would've been the first one asking questions and demanding answers. I'm telling you, this stinks."

I sigh. "Okay, if we're really going to do this, let's meet tomorrow morning at your place, Nico, where you've set up headquarters." A chill ripples down my spine, and I look around to see familiar guards in several directions. "How many do you have on us tonight?"

"Three teams. Keep in mind that somebody out there still wants to kidnap you," Nico says. He looks at Scarlett. "Get used to having a bodyguard because one will escort you home."

She blows out air, and I totally get it. Suddenly, I need a moment. "I'm hitting the restroom."

Nico gestures with his chin at two of the men not so subtly hanging out at the bar.

"Seriously? Do they have to look like mafia men with full suits?" I walk sedately through the crowd past the wildly thumping dance floor to the far hallway, making sure the guards can easily follow without having to knock anybody out. I've seen them do so before. Then, because I'm in a good mood, I stand back while the first guy, a massive blond named Edward, kicks through the women's restroom looking for threats. When he returns, I even smile and thank him.

For goodness' sake.

I make use of the facilities and wash my hands, checking my makeup. My gaze catches on a barely there bite from Thorn over the pulse point in my neck. Fire lashes through me.

That reminds me. I should upload a new emotional connection with Scarlett as I give more details of my time with Thorn. We can play back and forth. I hope she's all in with her new job. I don't need to trust her to work with her.

The door crashes open and Edward flies toward me.

I yelp and leap out of the way. He lands face-first on the tile floor, quickly followed by the other guy, who lands on him with a solid thunk. They don't move. Almost in slow motion, I look down at them and then back up to the doorway.

Which is filled by Thorn. "I've been waiting for two hours for you to use the restroom."

My ears ring and my breath heats my lungs until they hurt. He's angry I didn't need to pee? Asshole. "We have the entire bar covered." I can't believe my voice is steady.

"I'm aware." He steps inside and locks the door, looking around at the three open red stalls and a closed closet door. His intense gaze on me, he back-kicks the door and it flies open.

I jump. "What are you doing?"

Instead of answering, he ducks and yanks the dark-haired guy off Edward before tossing him in what appears to be a supply closet. Seconds later, Edward joins him.

Thorn shuts the door. "They're gonna be out for a while."

I look frantically around. At least there's no window, so no easy avenue for him to take me. "Have you lost your damn mind?" Now my voice shakes, but it's with anger.

"Yes," he says in a low growl. "I most certainly lost my mind the first second we met. How dare you hide your intelligence from me?"

My chin lowers and I search for a weapon. "How dare you assume I'm not smart." This is freaking surreal. Music pounds from the dance floor, and loud laughter trails beneath the door.

He leans back against it and crosses his arms, looking powerful and pissed.

I gulp, shocked at how hard my heart is beating. My nipples peak. He's dressed in his usual black slacks and white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his sinewed arms. There isn't a spot of blood or a wrinkle even though he just incapacitated two of my best bodyguards. From the silence in the supply closet, they're not coming to anytime soon.

The silver flecks in his eyes appear darker than usual, and his thick black hair is ruffled. He's so handsome, so starkly beautiful, I wish I could paint. Or even draw. Then he ruins it by opening his mouth. "That's three rules of mine, baby."

Anger billows through me so quickly, I'm shocked my head doesn't fly right off my neck. "You can shove your rules up your ass. We're done, remember?"

One of his dark eyebrows rises, the action making him look beyond arrogant. "I told you we weren't done."

"You traded me for rocks," I spit out. There's no way to get past him to the door, so I'll have to go right through the cocky asshole. I'm sure nobody has ever kicked him square in the balls before. It's time.

"I'm fairly certain I don't like where your mind has gone," he says. "The trade was necessary. Your anger isn't."

The words send my temper full-on nuclear, and I kick up, hard as I can, toward his dick.