Page 29 of Darkest Before Dawn (His Perfect Darkness #2)
Hamish and I stand side by side, facing the ballroom. When his answer comes, it’s almost too low to be heard. “I recognized a man who has condemned himself to being alone. Sacrificing himself in service for a cause. He sees himself as an island, married only to duty.”
“Duty?” I blink. Are we talking about the same St. James? The man who’s part of a notorious criminal gang and co-owner of a sex club?
“Yes, duty. He has a sense of honor. He is loyal to the brotherhood.”
“You mean Fraternitas.” I sound doubtful.
“For all their sins, the secret society is good for the city. Rex and I discovered they have a net positive return on reducing violent crime.”
“Honor among murderers?” I murmur.
Hamish inclines his head. “Indeed.”
“All right.” Criminals, murderers, talking about a gang like it’s a good investment? I can’t take this anymore. “Excuse me.” I flee to the restroom.
Two slim women in suits peel off from the wall and follow me. My bodyguards do a great impersonation of shadows. “Wait here,” I order before entering the powder room. I just need a moment alone.
My reflection in the mirror shows a glamorous woman with a sleek updo. Diamonds sparkle at her neck and finger. But I don’t recognize myself anymore. I’m beginning to realize that no one is what they seem.
I gaze longingly at a bathroom stall. I’m tempted to hide in there for the rest of the night.
Movement in the corner startles me a second before a male voice says, “Hello, Mrs. Roy. Or should I say, Swallow?”
I whirl, wishing I’d kept my purse with my handgun on me. “Who’s there?”
A man emerges from the furthest stall from the door. He’s sallow-skinned with deep circles under his eyes. The room takes on a chartreuse tinge, my psychic senses telling me something’s off.
I hitch up my dress to run to the door and he holds up his hands. His left is empty, while his right holds a stained piece of paper. “Wait! I have something for you.”
I pause, but only for a moment. The room tilts, disorienting me. I’ve been worried that my instincts are broken, but at the moment, they’re shrieking like a siren. I won’t ignore them again.
I’m not armed, and he might be. He went through all this trouble to corner me. I have self-defense training, but common sense says I get to safety as soon as possible.
I hit the door, shouting, “Help!” as I burst into the hall.
My bodyguards are quick to respond, whirling and surrounding me. “Ma’am? What is it?”
“In there,” I gasp, “a man.”
Both women hustle me down the hall.
“No, wait,” I twist in their grip, “don’t let him escape.”
“On it, ma’am.” One of the bodyguards releases me and darts back, her gun drawn.
I wish I had my gun so I could follow. But my curiosity is outweighed by my sense of self-preservation, so I let the second bodyguard lead me into a private room.
She’s barking into her earpiece, “Intruder alert, I need backup—Ms. Roy is secure?—”
In less than a minute, Rex bursts through the door. “Inara! Are you hurt?” He runs his large hands up and down my arms. That’s when I realize I’m shivering and cold.
“I’m fine. He just surprised me.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask for a gun, but Hamish has joined us, along with a few other bodyguards. It’s getting cramped in this small, dark room.
“Get out there and find him,” Rex orders them.
Hamish repeats the commands, leading most the security detail out of the room into the hall to assign them specific jobs. The more people leave, the more I relax.
“Here,” Rex guides me to a chaise lounge and turns on a nearby lamp. “Tell me what happened.”
I recite the scene, including a description. “White cis male about five-eight, on the skinnier side. Maybe one sixty, one seventy . . . he said he had something for me?—”
St. James appears at the door, flanked by Jaeger and Kaiser. “What’s going on?”
“A man approached Inara in the bathroom,” Rex repeats my description of the unsub and the identical twins lift their heads like bloodhounds sniffing a scent.
St. James turns to them, nods, and the blonds disappear, off to join the hunt.
St. James lingers. “Are you all right?” he asks, still hovering in the door.
Rex stiffens, but I put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. I remember what Hamish said about St. James. “I’m fine. Thank you, Sebastian.”
If my using his first name phases him, St. James doesn’t show it. “I’ll alert my brothers to be on the lookout for a man of that description. Keep me informed,” he orders Rex and disappears before Rex can bristle at being told what to do by his frenemy.
One of my bodyguards returns.
“No sign of him, sir,” she reports. “But we found something.”
Hamish enters, holding a familiar-looking piece of paper in his hands. He’s wearing latex gloves, but I have no idea how he got them so fast. Does he carry them around in his pocket, like a handkerchief?
I shake my head to clear my wild thoughts.
“It’s a letter,” Hamish reports. “He left it on the sink.”
Rex rises to look at it, but I stay seated. My nerves are raw. I don’t know why I had such a strong reaction to the stranger when I’m trained for these situations, but the man’s presence made me feel sick.
And then I realize that I’ve felt this way before. Long ago when I was a little girl, huddling under the covers, listening to the creak of the floorboards outside my bedroom. I sensed the Bondage Killer’s presence then as I do now.
“It’s from him, isn’t it?” I say right as Rex tells me, “It’s from the Bondage Killer.”
Hamish tilts the letter enough for me to see the opening line. Dear Swallow ? —
I don’t want to look at it anymore. Not when I’m around so many strangers, exposed.
“Was it him? Was he here?” Rex demands. He’s facing Hamish, but I answer, “No, that wasn’t him. That was just a messenger.”
My second bodyguard appears. “He’s gone. He escaped through another exit and went through the kitchens and out the back door.”
Rex swears.
“But he dropped this.” They hand the badge to Rex, who holds it up so Hamish and I can see. “Ted Raider.”
“Ted,” I breathe. This must be the same Ted that Burgess told us about.
Rex grips the badge in his fist. “Got him.”