From a huge cowboy hat, Mrs. Donovan started pulling slips of paper on which the contestants had written their names. The people that were not joining the festivities drank and mingled on the sidelines. I fingered the tiny bandage that covered my stitches as she read names off. I had taken some ibuprofen. It did not currently hurt, but it was starting to itch, the healing process annoying.
A third of the way through the name-calling, I heard her say mine over the portable mike and speaker she was using. I made my way through the crowd, some of them taking notice of me for the first time, putting the face to the name. As they stared, some were hostile, those who I had done unflattering stories on it the past and some were respectful; those individuals knowing it was hard work being a reporter.
Bluntly, I was not loved by all or hated by all. It was hit or miss.
I exited through the front of the masses, and waved at Mrs. Donovan, showing her I was here. Her stare was stony, one of my haters, and nodded to the right. I smiled amiably, and strolled to stand next to three individuals that were starting the third team of which I was now a part of. I almost grinned, seeing a bag in my hand when I saw that Stash was one of the three. I had learned today during his lone obstacle course that he was one fast son-a-bitch. I did not recognize the other two. They looked like donators, since they weren’t wearing a competitor’s shirt.
I damn near knew we were going to win when Ember’s name was called next; she had almost beaten Stash’s time today. I did not hear the next name called. But when he came out of the line, I was immediately on guard. Ben Summers walked toward my group, staring directly at me. He was one of my haters. I had done a piece on him that had gotten him thrown out of the big leagues. He was a baseball player – at least, formerly – that I had exposed to doing steroids. Repeatedly.
He most definitely had a grudge against me when he walked past me, slamming his shoulder against my body. Grunting, I fell hard on my ass, barely moving my hand before he stepped on it. I rolled, maneuvering out his way before he decided to accidently hit me again. I jumped to my feet, rubbed my ass, and moved closer to Stash and Ember. We had not exactly become friends, but they did not hate me like Ben did. They had also saved my ass once this week.
“Friend of yours?” Ember asked quietly.
“Something like that,” I muttered, pulling grass off my shorts.
Stash grinned. “You make friends easily, don’t you?”
I shrugged, flicking another piece of grass. “Territory of the job.”
Ember cocked her head. “Why do you do it if everyone hates you?”
“People deserve to know the truth. If their hero is a drug user,” I jerked my head Ben’s way, “then they should know, and pick a new hero.”
Stash chuckled, shaking his head. “A truth seeker.”
“Any reporter, who’s worth their grain in salt, is a truth seeker. That’s where the good stories lead you, since the best stories come from the biggest lies,” I explained, listening for the next name. I really did have a lot of haters out there. Ben was not the worst.
The next two were competitors with a purple and red shirt.
I rolled my shoulders. Only two more to go. Maybe it would not be that bad.
Then I groaned, hearing the next name. “Shit.”
“What? Who is she?” Ember asked, her eyes roaming the mass.
I mumbled, “Chrissy Tumas is a very nasty woman.” I had once done a story on her and her wealth, but unknown to me; I had also been fucking her current boyfriend. I had met him on her estate, and I thought he was working there. I had gone on a few dates with the man, and then slept with him during our three-week long ‘relationship’. “You know how I said I hate fighting?”
Stash and Ember nodded.
“Well, I have gotten into one fight before.” I cleared my throat and nodded toward the woman headed our way, already staring daggers at me. “It was with her.”
“Really,” Stash drawled, scanning her person. “She’s a lot bigger than you. Why did you get into a fight with the heiress?” Ah. He knew who she was.
“I know she’s big. She kicked my ass.” I sighed. “We fought because she caught me in bed with her boyfriend.” I held up my hands when they both looked at me in shock. “Erase whatever is going through your mind right now. The guy was a liar. I also thought he was my boyfriend.”
I sighed and stepped forward, and stopped being a pussy. Whatever she did to me was not their fight. Not that I was going to get into a fight. But this was mine to deal with.
“Hello, slut,” Chrissy snapped. “Screw any other taken men lately?”
No. Just a man that liked to hurt people for a living. “Hello, Chrissy. I wish I could say it’s lovely to see you again, but it’s not.” I grinned, feeling evil. “How’s your boyfriend? Wait. I’m sorry. You married him, didn’t you?” Vaguely, I heard Mrs. Donovan speaking again, but I could not hear what she said over Chrissy’s hissing. “Does he still do that thing,” I crooked my finger back and forth, “with his tongue?” She was such a bitch. In our past, she had broken my arm when she had stormed into that room, not even waiting to talk it through and figure out what the hell was going on.
I could hear Stash and Ember snorting and chuckling behind me.
Chrissy’s cheeks turned bright red. “You fucking bitch!” She threw a punch.
I ducked. The shot going over my head, I pivoted away, grinning at her, not able to stop the words. “Oh, wait. That’s right. You wouldn’t know because he mentioned he hated doing it to his girlfriend before me. She didn’t shower regularly.” He had once told me this. I tapped my nose, and then pointed at her. “You.”
She growled, and charged.
I could not move fast enough.
We went down in a tangle of punching fists and hair yanking.
I saw flashes erupting, and knew my parents were going to give me hell for this, but I hated this woman. While she screamed in my face, trying to slap me, I pushed on the ground, rolling, and slamming her down onto her back.
“You broke my fucking arm, bitch,” I hissed, slamming my fist against her face, making sure I did it just like Daniil had to my assailant. Eye for an eye. I felt her nose snap under my knuckles, and it was extraordinary and oddly satisfying. She and I were now even.
An arm was suddenly around my waist, lifting me up into the air and away from the now screaming Chrissy. As I hung against whoever held me off the ground, my back against their chest, I learned she knew some very imaginative curses for a spoiled heiress.
Stash was picking Chrissy up, and she lunged at me again, even with blood running down her face, but Stash yanked the bitch back. She pointed, bellowing, “Fuck you, slut. I’ll break your arm like I did last time.” She kept struggling and shouting obscenities.
Security was storming up behind them.
I stilled completely, making sure I did not look like I was going to fight anymore. I did not want to be taken away. She could not press charges since there were so many witnesses to her attacking first. It had probably just looked like I was defending myself. She, on the other hand…I grinned, brushing my hair back from my face as I dangled in the air. I could actually press charges if I wanted to.
I would not do that though. I had gotten my eye for an eye.
Mrs. Donovan and the Mayor reached us before the security did, and Mrs. Donovan rushed to me, stating, “I’m so sorry, Ms. Forter. We’ll have her removed immediately.”
I bit my cheek so I did not smirk. “Thank you. And you can calm down. I won’t put my viewpoint in an article. Your charity won’t be hurt from my writing.”
I saw relief flash over her beautiful features before she nodded and snapped her fingers at the security officers, herding them to the bleeding, belligerent Chrissy, who Stash was still dealing with.
The Mayor stood in front of me. “Are you injured? Do you still want to compete?”
I nodded, the back of my head rubbing against a hard chest. “I want to compete. I’m fine. I
want one of those award bags.” I tilted my head forward, and whispered, “Can you tell me if there’s any jewelry in them?” I loved me some sparklies. I had never had them growing up, so when I splurged and bought one, I treasured it.
His cold mien cracked for a heartbeat, and I saw amusement in his eyes before they frosted again. “I believe my wife put some in the first place bags.”
I grinned. “I guess we’ll just have to win then.”
The Mayor nodded, his eyes glancing briefly over my head before he left.
Patting the muscular arm that was around my ribs, holding me in an unbreakable grip, I muttered, “You can let me down now. I’m done fighting the wicked bitch.” I tilted my head to the side, glancing up.
And froze.
Daniil. It was Daniil. Why my shark radar had not gone off, I did not know. He had been a constant blip on my ‘screen’ for the past two days. I always made sure to keep a visual on him when I was at the events, keeping him at least in my peripheral. It was best to know where the danger lies. Or stands, in his case.
I sucked in a breath and stayed very still. He had not bothered me since the restaurant, but one of those bodyguards had been following me around everywhere I went. The guard normally did a fabulous job of making himself invisible, but every once in a while I caught a glimpse of him, Least Ugly. With the guard still following me, it had to mean that Daniil had not calmed down from his earlier threat.
I stared into his face as he watched me, his hair hanging down against his cheeks. The tiki lamps that were lit made his hair shimmer like the dark night sky above us. His expression was bored, but his eyes hid something that I could not see because of the darkness. I wet my lips, and slowly whispered, “Can you let me down, please?”
He breathed in; his chest expanded against my back. “That was a nice punch.”
I blinked. “It should have been familiar. I picked it up from you the other day.”
He stared. “Did she really break your arm before?”
I nodded slowly. This was an odd conversation. Crazy. “Yes. A year ago.”
He jerked his head toward Ben, who was watching us. “What about the first idiot that hit you? What’s the story there?”
I cleared my throat, and was not quite sure what to do with my arms since he still had a hold of me. I ended up just letting them dangle. “I ran a story about him using while he played professional baseball. He blames me for his career’s demise.”
He stared, still. “Hmm…”
I blinked, and muttered again, “Think you can let me down now?”
Guess not. He did not move, instead asking, “How many enemies do you have here?”
I was exasperated. Mrs. Donovan, the Mayor, security, and Chrissy were going to be leaving the area soon. He and I were going to become noticeable shortly. “Honestly? Too many to count.” His eyebrows lowered, which I ignored to pat his arm. “Now. Please.”
Instant. “Did you run that search on the other reporters?”
“Yes. No other whack jobs here.” Other than you.
I squirmed, reminding him I was still physically in his hold.
“You haven’t been wearing your glasses,” he stated, watching me struggle.
I banged the side of my head against his chest. “I put in two week contacts the day I had a hangover. No reason to waste them.”
He stated coolly, “You look better without them. They’re horrid.”
“Yes, you’ve already said that before.”
“It bears repeating,” he spoke softly…right before he dropped me, just as everyone started to move out from in front of us, the masses now back in view.
I stumbled and quickly caught my balance, rubbing my ribs under my breasts. I would probably have a bruise. Moving promptly through the last of the security team, I stood next to Stash, asking him quietly, “Why is Daniil over here?”
He shrugged. “He’s part of our team.” Shit. He grinned. “For someone who hates violence, that was one hell of a hit.”
Ember chuckled. “Don’t forget about her mom. Anti-gun coalition.” She peered across Stash to me. “You do realize that will probably be in the papers with all the photos that were taken.” Her chuckle deepened. “Ironic, that.”
I groaned. “Yeah, my parents are going to love it.” I heard the name Mrs. Donovan called out to fill Chrissy’s place. “Are you shitting me? She has to be doing this on purpose!”
Stash asked dryly, “Don’t tell me, another friend?”
“He wants to be,” I muttered, tilting behind Stash. “He’s my own celebrity stalker.”
“A reporter with a stalker.” Ember laughed outright. “That’s fucking ironic too.” She glanced at me. “You’re just full of ironies, aren’t you?”
“Not by choice,” I answered, watching as Samuel Packard came out from the crowd.
Ember whistled low. “Tell me why you’re not friends with him? He’s gorgeous.”
“Yeah, until he calls you twenty times a day, sends you flowers at least once a day and leaves you little notes on your apartment door in the evening and the morning.” I shook my head. “I wouldn’t screw him if my life depended on it.”
Samuel was ten feet away and heading straight toward me when I felt heat on my left side where the cool night air used to be. I glanced over, and I mean, what the fuck kind of evening was I having because Daniil was standing right next to me and staring at me with a confused and disgusted mien just about the time that Samuel arrived directly in front of me.
“Hello, Beth,” Samuel said quietly, smiling down at me, using a pet name that he had no right to use. “You look beautiful tonight.”
I stated dryly, “Samuel, my face is half green. I have dirt and grass stains all over me. My hair looks like I stuck my finger in a light socket. I’m in no way beautiful right now.”
He placed two fingers on my bruised cheek, and whispered intimately, “You look as gorgeous as you did the first night here when you couldn’t decide between the red dress and the black one.”
I froze. Same as Stash, Ember, and Daniil. How the hell…
“Did you invite him into your room before the ball?” Daniil asked casually.
“No,” I hissed, disgusted beyond belief.
Snap. Snap.
Honestly, I was not even sure how Daniil did it. One second, I felt like I wanted to puke because Samuel was still touching me. The next second, I saw a flash of Daniil’s hand right before Samuel was shouting and holding his two twisted, broken fingers.
Stash chuckled as Samuel ran away. “Next!”
I dug through my first place bag, sitting on the grass in the midst of the Lion Security’s group where I had tagged along since there were so many ‘unfriendlies’ in the crowd now that they all knew my face. I was a sweating, dirty, disgusting mess, but when I felt a small velvet box, I did not care if I was bone weary. I grinned, yanked it out, and popped the lid. The tiki fires provided enough light to illuminate a pair of heart shaped ruby earrings.
My heart deflated as I fingered my decidedly holeless earlobes. I had never gotten them pierced, and I did not plan to. I did not want any holes in my body that were not already there.
I mean, it could have been a ring or a brooch. Not everyone mutilated his or her body.
I sighed and grumpily snapped the lid shut. At least I would have grocery money for a few months if I got a decent price out of them at the pawnshop or on eBay. I tossed the box back into my bag, and started rifling through it again.
“Not what you were wanting?” Daniil’s voice drifted from above me.
I froze, and then slowly turned, looking up from my seated position. He had disappeared after we had completed the obstacle course. I thought he might be going to bed…since he was…older. Instead, he appeared even dirtier than when he had left.
He sat between Zane and I, making us scoot unless we wanted to be squashed.
I watched him warily as I resituated myself. “No. My ears aren’t pierced.” I swallowed, and tu
rned back to my bag, being a very bad reporter and not even listening to everyone else’s conversations. Because the bag was so full, I started pulling each item out. I concentrated on each piece, firmly ignoring the man next to me. I started estimating the price I could get for each item that I did not want, keeping track on my fingers how many hundreds it was.
I was at seven hundred when Daniil asked, “What are you doing?”
I stopped and pushed the items aside that I had gone through so far, feeling a little braver as he was not moving to kill me. I tried not to smirk when I said, “I’m sitting.”
He chuckled softly. “Cute, Ms. Forter. But what are you keeping track on your fingers?”
I turned my head and stared. He was rich. He would not understand. I pointed at the items. “I’m trying to figure out how much I can get for all of these if I sell them. So far, I’m at seven hundred bucks. I like to buy nice things and live in a nice apartment, but that takes budgeting.” I turned my attention back to the items before he could react. I did not want to see him laugh at me. Hearing it would be enough as it was.
There was not a chance to hear anything like that when Zane asked loudly to their group, “Who wants play cards and drink beer?”
An uproar of shouts sounded.
I leaned forward, around Daniil, and told Zane quietly, “The resort’s alcohol shipment was lost. Evidently, that restaurant wasn’t the only place. All the businesses around here use the same distribution center, so they’re all bone dry.”
Zane stared. “Who told you that? And when?”
“The bar here at the resort, and I double checked with the front desk. I found out the same night as that guy attacked me. They said they would put up notices when they have more in. The only stuff left is non-alcoholic beers or virgin drinks.” I shook my head. “Have you ever had a non-alcoholic beer? It’s like watered-down piss.”
Zane blinked. “Oh. Well. That does suck.” He cleared his throat, standing like everyone else. “Good night, Ms. Forter.”
Obsidian Liquor Page 8
