Page 11 of Provocation (Den of Deception #3)

Chapter Three

DAISY

T he lab is small. I thought it might be a problem, but as the day goes by, I notice that it’s actually a cozy little space. Things are close to each other, so there’s no wasting time walking around between workstations that are a whole room apart.

I was surprised that it was beneath the club itself, but I suppose it makes sense. There’s security here and it’s well hidden. Plus, no one will think it’s weird for the guys to be turning up here at all hours. It’s actually pretty ingenious.

I keep a close eye on the tubes and the temperature levels as I work, vaguely aware when someone comes in and leaves again.

The guys each knock three times before they enter so that I know it’s them and I don’t have to bother looking up from my tasks.

Every once in a while, I notice that a candy bar or a smoothie has been placed in a strategic location nearby, so that I notice it.

It makes me remember to take a short break every hour, or so, which keeps me clear-headed and fresh despite the passing hours.

I don’t realize how late it is until the bass begins to thud down from the club. I look up at the clock and realize it’s almost eight. I’ve been at this for almost fifteen hours straight.

I really need to pee. I check everything is progressing well and glance at the camera that shows me the outside of the door.

The cellar is clear, so I slide it open just enough for me to fit through, closing it behind me and making sure it’s not visible.

The door itself looks just like the wall, completely camouflaged.

I’d never have known the little lab was there if Mav hadn’t shown it to me.

I hurry up the stairs and stop short as I go through the door.

It shuts behind me and I find myself in a sea of bodies.

I try to ignore the way my heart pounds and my belly flips while I resist the urge to cover my eyes and ears at the sudden onslaught of bright strobe lights and high decibels.

I only just stop myself from scurrying back downstairs. I’m not peeing in a tunnel!

I noticed the bathrooms earlier, so I head for them, easing myself into the stream of people who are slowly making their way in the same direction.

They brush up against me and I work hard not to recoil. I watch everyone, but my eyes never linger for long, constantly scanning and trying to match the speed of everyone else as we shuffle across the periphery of the room.

The dance floor is packed and a part of me would love to join them. It’s been a long time since I danced to music, but even without considering the crowds, my bladder is protesting that I’m not yet at the ladies’, so I stay in the lane of traffic and travel slowly to the bathrooms.

There’s not much of a line when I finally get there so I do my business quickly, intending to get back downstairs to finish for the day, but as I skirt back around the club in the direction of the basement door, a tall figure gets in my way.

I don’t look at them, instead I just try to go around, but they move to stand in front of me and stop me from going any further.

I finally look up. It’s a man in his late thirties, early forties. He’s wearing dark jeans, a black shirt, and a leather jacket. He looks like he’s trying to blend in with the club demographic, but failing. He’s watching me and I tilt my head, wondering why he’s stopped me.

‘Marguerite Novelle?’

I don’t think I show my surprise that this random guy knows who I am, but he takes something out of his pocket. It flashes silver in the light but before I can see it properly, it’s back in his pocket.

‘Detective Black. Can I ask you a few questions?’

A detective?

I swallow hard, my hands instantly clammy.

Every authority figure I’ve ever had flashes before my eyes.

John, teachers, coaches, the campus cops, the detectives who interrogated me for hours after Larson.

Despite the fact that this man is also a detective, it’s still Stoke with his beady eyes and arrogant control who is at the forefront.

He more than any of the others terrifies me.

I might throw up all over the detective.

Another swallow.

No.

‘Yes,’ I whisper, my eyes wide.

When you don’t do what authority figures tell you, you’re punished. I know that.

He walks toward the wall, and I follow him, not sure how I’m making my jelly-like legs move.

I’m suddenly in a small storage room and he’s closing the door. I try not to panic.

‘Miss Novelle,’ he starts. ‘I recognized you.’

He smiles slightly. ‘Though the mugshot in my files is a little out of date.’

‘A decade is a long time, detective,’ I hear myself saying. ‘I was just a kid back then.’

‘Sure,’ he says easily, leaning against one of the shelves of drink bottles in a pose of police nonchalance that I also remember from ten years ago.

It didn’t put me at ease then and it doesn’t now. This man isn’t any more my friend than those detectives who made me confess to Larson’s murder.

Where are the guys? I look at the door, willing it to open. But it doesn’t.

‘You said you wanted to ask me some questions,’ I prompt in an attempt to get this over with.

I suppose I won’t be able to just go back down to the cellar now that I’m clearly on this guy’s radar either.

‘What were you doing downstairs? Or, maybe a better question is, who were you doing downstairs?’

He smirks like he just made a joke.

I don’t get it.

When I don’t react however it is that I’m supposed to, he frowns. ‘I heard they put you in some institution in London. What are you doing back?’

‘Getting married.’

It gives me a perverse sense of pleasure that I’m using the news of the marriage that’s being forced on me to thwart this cop’s agenda.

He looks surprised. ‘Your father is selling you off, huh?’

‘He’s not my father.’

‘No, that’s right.’

He puts more of his weight on the shelf, causing it to creak.

I wonder, if it buckles, will he go down with it?

‘Your father was Mark Evans, right? Died in a fire, what, twelve, thirteen years back?’

‘Something like that.’

‘They never did find out who did it. Couldn’t have been you, could it?’

He stares at me like he’s trying to will truths out of me.

Not sure what he’s getting at, I work to hide my visceral reaction. I think my fear will be like blood in the water to a shark.

‘I was at school.’ I blink up at him. ‘It was a lab accident.’

He snorts. ‘Is that what they told you? I mean I guess you were just a kid. Maybe you should know the truth, Marguerite.’

He leans in closer. ‘That fire in your dad’s lab was arson.’

‘That’s not possible,’ I say immediately, sure he’s lying. ‘Who would have wanted to kill my dad?’

Despite the bombshell Black has dropped, that has me reeling and my mind dredging up the awful memory of the day he died followed by the subsequent evening when my mom tearfully told me that my daddy wasn’t going to tuck me in like he did every night, the detective just shrugs at me like it’s no big deal.

‘Did you know that your stepbrother is a criminal?’

He watches me, gauging my reaction. But I’m still staring at him blankly, my mind occupied with thoughts of my father.

‘That was a question, Marguerite.’

‘No,’ I murmur, forcing out a laugh that I hope sounds natural. ‘He’s a Novelle. The family is worth millions. Why would he need to be a criminal?’

Black’s eyes narrow on me and he straightens, no longer attempting to be friendly.

‘I know you Novelles have your fingers in a lot of illegal pies and I’m here to tell you that I will bring you, John, and your stepbrothers to justice. They’re going to rot in jail and you will be put back in a facility where you?—’

The door swings open behind me, cutting off his words.

‘Detective Black.’

I turn around, recognizing Shade’s voice. My body almost sags in relief.

‘I see you’ve met my stepsister. But you must not have known who you were talking to. I know you’d never try to coerce answers out of a Novelle, or even try to talk to a member of my family without our lawyers present.’

‘Of course not, Jack. I was just making sure your sister was okay. She seemed a little lost out there.’

Jack’s unblinking eyes don’t leave Black. ‘Thanks for making sure she was safe. It’s a little late for you, isn’t it, Detective? Let me make sure you get to the door okay. It’s really busy tonight. I’d hate for someone to accidentally punch you right in the face …or something.’

The detective gives Jack a humorless smile. ‘What about your sister?’

‘Mav?’

I realize Mav is just behind Shade. ‘Come on, Tulip,’ he murmurs, not even looking at Black.

He leads me out of the storeroom and back toward the cellar.

The crowds part for him like he’s a biblical figure and I press myself against him.

When we get to the way to the basement door, though, we go past it and toward some steps that lead upward.

I climb them behind him and find myself in a gray office with some leather couches and a sleek, black desk.

‘Are you okay?’ Mav asks when the door is closed, and the sounds of the club are muted.

I throw my arms around him tightly, catching him by surprise.

‘Tulip?’ he murmurs worriedly.

‘I’m okay,’ I breathe. ‘Who was that?’

‘A detective who’s been trying to make shit difficult at the club for us. I’m sorry. I should have been watching.’

I hear the door open and the room is filled with a cacophony of sound from the club for a second before being softened again when it closes. Mav doesn’t move so I know it’s one of the guys.

‘Does he know about Envy?’ I ask, my voice muffled by Mav’s chest.

‘No,’ Shade says, his hand kneading the back of my neck. ‘Where were you?’

‘Grabbing a high box for Sandy,’ Mav answers. ‘Fucker must have been waiting for his chance to strike.’

Shade sighs. ‘Eyes on her all the time.’

I feel Mav nod. ‘What did he say to you?’

I lean into Mav, pressing my head against his chest and breathing in the scent of neroli.