Page 33

THIRTY-TWO

ONE WEEK AGO

As parties went, this one was a little wilder than Bug expected. As Holden guided her through a maze of hallways and lavishly decorated rooms, introducing her to men whose names she didn’t bother to remember, she took in all the sordid details. Music so loud it rattled your bones? Check. Bodies writhing to said music? Check. Couples getting down and dirty on couches and chairs? Check. A vast selection of drugs? Check. Booze? Check. In fact, Bug was carefully sipping the second blue-colored drink that Holden had shoved into her hand. The first had given her a nice buzz, loosening her up enough that she wasn’t so apprehensive about what she needed to do.

Holden kept them moving. She met more people. Laughed at jokes that weren’t funny. Tried not to recoil at the way some of the men raked their eyes over her. Then there were more rooms. How many living rooms and parlors did one house need?

There were other women here, but she wasn’t introduced to any of them. Most of them were too focused on the men they were chatting with to even look at Bug. Some narrowed their eyes at her, assessing her as a threat.

She was a threat, all right, just not to any of them.

Holden found a room where the music wasn’t so loud and steered Bug inside. There were only a few groups of people mingling. None of them paid any attention when Holden plopped into a big cushy chair and pulled Bug down onto his lap. Even though her feet were killing her, she didn’t want to stop. Her target was here somewhere, and she was afraid the night would be over before she found him.

Swirling the liquor around in her glass, she said, “What are we doing?”

His arms tightened around her waist. “I’m tired of small talk.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

“Drink,” Holden said, lifting his chin to indicate her glass.

Smiling, she said, “I’m already a little tipsy from the first one. You know I’m not supposed to drink.”

It was imperative that she stay alert.

“You’ll be fine,” Holden said, tipping the glass to her lips.

Bug drank it before it spilled down her front. When she finished, Holden took the glass and set it on the floor next to the chair. Then he kissed her. His hands roamed up and down her body, finding places he definitely shouldn’t touch in public. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she let him go on for a while. She needed to act normal. After a couple of minutes, Bug pulled away, trying to put some distance between their bodies. “What are you doing?”

He kept her pinned to his lap. “I told you, I’m tired of small talk.”

Bug didn’t need to fake her nervous laughter. “Holden, there are people everywhere. I hope you don’t think I’m going to let you?—”

She broke off as she noticed a man watching them intently from across the room. An involuntary shudder racked her body. Holden laughed and said something, but Bug couldn’t hear him. The man sauntered toward them, slugging back a drink as he moved. He didn’t stop until his shins knocked into the side of their chair. Bug looked up at him and for a moment, she was eight years old again, hiding in the cupboard under the kitchen sink, and he was there. Ripping the cabinet door off like it was made of paper. Three red welts striped his cheek. He reached for her, and she saw blood on his knuckles.

From another room, her mother screamed, “Run, Bug! Run!”

“Holden, who’s your friend?”

That voice, smooth instead of snarly, snapped her back to the present. Her fingers touched the centerpiece of her necklace of their own accord. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. The man wasn’t supposed to be scary anymore. He wasn’t acting scary. He wasn’t even being creepy like most of the guys here. In fact, he was bizarrely normal. This time, when he reached out, it was to shake her hand. Holden must have made introductions. As if in a trance, Bug slid her palm against his, surprised by his gentleness. Then again, he didn’t know her true identity. Clearly, he didn’t recognize her.

Holden’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “Sorry, man. She’s a lightweight.”

Bug blinked, willing the memories away. For now. “I’m so sorry.” She forced a doe-eyed smile onto her face. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Holden’s right. I got buzzed pretty quickly but I’m feeling a lot better now. Your home is absolutely amazing! It’s so nice to finally meet you. Holden talks about you all the time.”

Holden’s fingers dug into her hip. Was that a warning of some kind?

She put a hand to her mouth momentarily. “I’m babbling. Sorry.”

The man seemed captivated or amused. Maybe both. That was unexpected. “You’re refreshing,” he said.

Giggle, she told herself. A silly little giggle would work here. Unfortunately, it came out half a shriek. “Thank you.”

From her periphery, she saw Holden shaking his head. The man laughed. Then he extended his hand again. This time, it was easier to take it. Bug let him lift her from Holden’s lap. She could do this.

“It’s a little crazy up here,” the man said. “Has Holden showed you the bar downstairs?”

“Not yet.” Holden stood and gripped her waist possessively.

The man winked at her. “It’s a lot more than a bar. Come on, we’ll have a drink together. I’ve got the good stuff down there. Food, if you’re hungry. Holden, have you fed her at all? No wonder she’s buzzed after two drinks.”

Bug followed him, studying his wide shoulders, his self-assured walk. For once, she was grateful for Holden’s touch. As they descended a carpeted set of stairs into what she assumed was the basement, her legs trembled a little.

Maybe she could use another drink. Liquid courage. Finally, she was going to confront the man from the magical house. The man who had beaten her mother so badly she was unrecognizable, before throwing her out into the cold.

The only man who had ever made her mother feel afraid.