Page 3 of Treasured by Them (Rose and Dagger #3)

Edmund

T he flower shop is a tiny boutique. It’s located halfway down a street off of Caro that’s so small, it looks like an alley. I tried pushing Danica toward a more traditional shop—one of those big names that my mom recommended, the kind hired for celebrity events.

But Danica insisted on this one.

The owner is a woman who looks not much older than Danica. Her brown hair has been dyed orange, red, and yellow at the ends, making her look like a fiery rainbow. She balks when we tell her the wedding date is at the end of the month.

“Two and a half weeks?” Her eyebrows go high on her freckled forehead.

“Yeah.” Danica flashes an apologetic smile. “I know you might be booked, but I wanted to ask you first. You did such a good job for my cousin’s funeral...”

“Your cousin?”

“Patrick Aseyev-Hodgkins.”

“Oh—the Aseyev funeral.” Sympathy fills the florist’s eyes. “I didn’t realize the connection. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Danica nods. “Thanks.”

While the florist flips through her calendar, Troy pretends to examine arrangements. He’s really checking out the room and evaluating it for safety.

“It’ll be tight, and we won’t have time to order anything exotic.” The florist taps her calendar page. “But I don’t have any events scheduled that day. If I bring in Max for overtime, and hire my brother...”

I clear my throat, impatient. “Whatever extra costs there might be for the inconvenience, we’ll pay them. Just make this happen.”

Danica and the florist look up at me as if surprised to hear me speak.

I shrug. “If you want this florist, this is the one you’ll have.”

“Edmund.” Danica sounds exasperated. “You can’t just boss people around with your money—Emily, charge us an asshole tax, okay?”

The florist—Emily, I guess is her name—laughs. “Oh, you two are going to be dynamite together.”

“Explosive and chaotic and the ruin of everything around us?” Danica arches a blond eyebrow.

“Heat and excitement.” Emily nods. “It’s not a bad thing, I promise.”

It could be bad, though, if that heat isn’t tempered. I look over to where Troy stands—the image of serenity, immovable.

“Shall we talk flowers?” Emily directs Danica’s attention to a tablet.

“Yes, let’s.” Danica leans over.

“Do you want my opinions on any of this?” I ask.

“Not particularly.” Danica shrugs. “Do you have any preferences?”

I grin. “Not particularly. Whatever you pick will be stunning, I’m sure.”

“So no pressure,” she says.

“None whatsoever.” And I mean it.

I wander past a display of giant sunflowers to stand near Troy. I lower my voice. “Hey. You doing okay since everything went down with Amber?”

“Yeah.” He peers into a walk-in refrigerator filled with floral arrangements. “Coming home to Dani made everything better.”

“Good. I’ll make sure Amber doesn’t come back to San Esteban, not for anything.

Would be good if she does time, but her lawyers will probably get her out.

Still, the Laytons won’t let her back in the city.

” My resolve hardens. If she comes back, I won’t let anyone go easy on her. She’s had her warning.

Troy turns and watches Dani, so I follow his gaze. He keeps his eyes on her, not looking at me. “You know, you kept your cool at the hotel. I thought you might lose it, but it was like you turned into a robot. No emotion.”

I don’t know what to say to that. In that small AV room, I knew that if I felt too much, I’d do something I couldn’t come back from. So I shut everything off. All the feelings, gone.

I should be proud. Maybe I am. I was finally able to do what my father has wanted of me since I was born.

Shut everything off, muffle the emotions. Stop feeling so goddamn much.

It was surprisingly easy. I can see myself using that trick again.

* * *

Troy

In the evening, Edmund and I go with Dani back to her old house.

Edmund looks out of place. I’m sure I do, too.

We’re, what, almost ten years older than most of these people.

Edmund isn’t wearing a suit, at least. He’s dressed down in jeans and a button-up.

Still, he looks more polished than anyone else.

I’m in my usual—black pants, black t-shirt.

And Dani? She’s in a flirty little tank top and a pair of jeans that hug her hips and show off her ass.

The house is teeming with people, most of them in their mid-twenties.

We’re here to celebrate Wallace’s graduation from San Esteban School of the Arts.

So far the only artistry I see is the art of getting drunk.

College kids, I guess. I watched Edmund do it, too.

I never participated because I was too busy guarding his ass.

Dani’s red-headed friend, Rita, corners Edmund in the kitchen. I follow partway, keeping Dani in my sight in the living room.

“So where, pray tell, are you finding the Baciarvita bags?” Rita asks. “The back of a truck?”

“Close.” Edmund sounds amused.

Rita pauses. Maybe she expected him to be offended at the idea he stole the bags. No offending someone whose family runs the Salding district. In a more intrigued voice, Rita asks, “Can I visit this truck?”

Edmund chuckles. “Probably not, but I’ll keep your request in mind.”

Dani bustles in. “Where’s the cake? We need to bring it out before Wallace gets too shit-faced to appreciate my hard work.”

The cake is pretty special—a single layer with decorative icing and a mini drumset on top.

Dani made it this morning while Edmund and I kept coming into the kitchen to steal tastes of icing.

Her threats to “end us with a spatula to the gut” only resulted in her getting pulled over my knees and spanked.

Which she liked, of course.

My hand tingles with the memory, and I have to think of something else, fast, before I get a boner in her old kitchen.

We find the cake. Wallace loves it, and his boyfriend helps him slice it for everyone. The tiny drumset gets placed in the center of the kitchen table, surrounded by bowls of chips and dips.

This party is super informal compared to the parties thrown by the Laytons. The food isn’t as good. The alcohol is cheap. And yet it’s a lot more fun. Ed Senior’s disapproval doesn’t sour the atmosphere. His wife doesn’t make snarky comments about other women. There’s no undercurrent of danger.

Until Dani’s other former roommate, Elias, bursts into the kitchen area. In a hushed, excited voice, he says, “You guys, there’s been another murder.”

A long moment of silence while everyone processes his announcement.

“Were you listening to your police scanner app at Wallace’s graduation party ?” Dani glares at Elias.

Rita glares just as hard. “Elias, we have been telling you, this is a problem.”

Wallace and their other friends are loudly talking in the living room, unaware of the drama in the kitchen.

Elias frowns and brushes his long hair back from his forehead. “It was just for a few minutes. I was curious what’s going on. And shit has gone down, you guys. Britney Gardner’s murderer has struck again.”

Dani purses her lips. She hasn’t said anything to her old roommates about the memory she uncovered. Given the manic glint in Elias’s eyes right now, I don’t blame her. He’d probably sit her down and interrogate her for hours if he thought she was a witness to a murder.

“We worry about you, Elias,” Dani finally says. “You get that, right? And you also have to understand Britney Gardner was murdered over a decade ago, in a completely different place. Chances are it isn’t the same guy.”

“But it could be.” Elias looks like he’s about to launch into a longer discussion, but the music abruptly cuts off from the speakers.

We all turn toward the living room to see what interrupted the music, to find Wallace and a bunch of his friends taking out instruments for a jam session.

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Dani says, grabbing my arm.

“Take me with you,” Rita whispers.

Edmund and I laugh. I ask, “Are they that bad?”

“No, they’re good...but they’ll be at it for hours.” Rita shakes her head. “I’ll be sleeping in both earplugs and noise-cancelling headphones tonight.”

We say our goodbyes and leave the house, with strains of fairly decent jazz following us toward the street. Dani tucks herself against my side in the chilly night air as Edmund opens the door of our car.

He pokes his head inside. “All quiet tonight, Jon?”

A long pause while nobody responds. The hairs on the back of my neck rise in alarm.

Edmund starts. “Troy?—”

I don’t need to hear the rest. His tone says everything.

“Take Dani and go inside. Now.” I pull him away from the car and put the two of them together, pushing them toward the house.

“What’s happening?” Dani moves with Edmund, not fighting or arguing.

I go around to the front of the car. The driver’s door is open, the window broken. Jon slumps back in his seat, lips parted, eyes staring vacantly into nothing. Blood trickles from a gunshot wound in his forehead.