Mister Black: A Billionaire SEAL Story, Part 1 (In the Shadows) (6 page)

I certainly haven’t. Swinging my gaze back through the room, I wonder how I’m supposed to spot Mina among the costumed guests. The answer hits me as I watch the bartender hand someone a drink. Bartenders always know everything.

Once I finally shoulder my way through the crowd hanging around the bar, the blond bartender smiles at me while twirling a metal cup across the flat of his palm. “Hello there, Sexy Red Riding Hood. What can I get you?”

I shake my head and smile. “I’m actually trying to find the youngest Blake. Have you seen Mina around?”

Without meaning to, he gives away her general location by glancing toward the cordoned off stairwell. “Haven’t seen her, sorry. Would you like a drink?”

“No, thanks.” Ducking my head, I squeeze my way back through the throng of people wanting more drinks, then steer toward the stairwell, all the while wondering how I’m going to climb the stairs without anyone seeing me.

A velvet rope blocks the bottom of the stairwell. A sign is attached to the middle of the rope, boldly stating: Private quarters. Not for Guests. Upstairs is off limits.

I cast a gaze over my shoulder. No one is paying me any attention. And Gavin is currently dancing with
two
girls at once. No way he’s looking over here. The thunder is rumbling now, louder with each boom. The partiers’ excitement amps with each new thunderclap and lightning flash brightening the room.

When the lights flicker and then dim briefly and the crowd whoops their enthusiasm, I reach for the rope’s hook on the banister’s spindle. Everyone’s watching the storm’s fury unfold; this might be my only chance to get upstairs undetected.

The moment my hand lands on the rope, something slides up my right wrist and a deep voice grates harshly in my ear, “Where do you think you’re going?”

I
glance down at the rope Black has cinched around my wrist. Frowning at him, I try to yank free, but he’s made some kind of rope handcuff, latching our wrists together. “Let’s go,” he snaps in a curt tone, tugging me along.

All I can do is stumble behind him as he pushes through a swinging door. The moment we enter the kitchen, the couple getting it on against a far wall near the double oven glance our way. “Out,” he barks at them. The clean-cut “biker” guy lowers the girl with devil horns to the floor and they quickly readjust their clothes.

Once they exit another door on the far side of the kitchen, the muffled thump of music outside the door has nothing on the sound of my heart hammering against my chest. Black hasn’t said anything to me yet, but he’s standing so close it’s unnerving.

I refuse to look up at him while I try to unhook the rope on my wrist. “Take this thing off me!”

“I don’t think so.” He slowly wraps the trailing end of the rope around his other hand, cinching it tighter around our joined wrists. “Since you bailed out of the bathroom window, I’ll assume you’re here for some reason
other
than a good time. You have thirty seconds to use that smooth-talking mouth of yours to convince me not to have you arrested for trespassing.”

I meet his furious gaze and square my shoulders. “I’m here to see Mina Blake.”

Surprise flickers in his eyes. Apparently that’s the last thing he expected me to say. Did he think I was a thief?

His mouth tightens. “What do you want with Mina?”

Exhaling, I tell him the truth. “I’m trying to get her side of the story as to why she left school.”

“She left. It’s done.” He shrugs. “Why do you care?”

“I work for the school paper.”

Brackets of disapproval form around his mouth. “Mina’s a story to you? You’re a gossip reporter?”

The low growl in his voice, the utter disdain when he says “gossip reporter” tenses my stomach. He might as well have called me a “shit slinger.” I hold my ground and shake my head. “Investigative. I solve mysteries with words. Some things just didn’t add up to me. I want to hear her side of the story.”

“There is no side. She left. End of story.”

His tone is harsh, protective. No matter how irrational it is, a part of me can’t help but feel a little jealous. How well does he know Mina? I jerk my chin up, meeting his hard stare. “If that’s all there is to it, then why is everyone being so protective? Why isn’t she down here partying? Why is she upstairs?”

“This party was for her—” he begins, then cuts himself off, jaw tensing.

That sounded personal, like he genuinely cares about Mina. I touch his arm, my gaze locking with his. “Look, all I want to do is to tell the truth. I’m not interested in smearing Mina’s good name. I believe there’s more going on. There are rumors.”

“What rumors?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

“That she was involved somehow.”

His face shutters. “She wasn’t.”

“Then let me tell the truth. Let me talk to her. This story means a lot to me for personal reasons, but if she refuses to tell me anything, I promise to let it go.”

He glances at the ceiling as if considering. Finally, he shifts his gaze back to me. “I can get you five minutes.” He begins to loosen the rope on my wrist.

When I start to smile my thanks, he halts his movements. “And then you’re going to tell me how you know me.”

I feel my eyes go wide. Keeping my tone even, I shift my gaze to our hands. “I don’t know you.”

Just as I slip my hand from the slackened loop, he clasps my freed wrist and slides his thumb along the soft skin, tracing my veins. “Yes, you do. The first time our eyes met, I saw recognition in yours.”

I lift my eyes to his and really stare, hoping to throw him off his assumption. “Your eyes are arresting, that’s all.”

His gaze darkens. “Nice try. I can tell the difference between surprise and recognition. Somehow you know me.”

“I probably saw you in a picture with the Blakes,” I say nonchalantly, shrugging.

For some reason my comment makes him laugh. “You know me, yet you
don’t
know me. This is more intriguing by the minute.”

I snort. “I assure you, Mr. Black, all I know about you is that you have a talent with knotted rope.”

“You have no idea,” he says cryptically, shooting a dark, suggestive look my way as he steers me to a door tucked into the back corner of the kitchen. “I look forward to getting to know you, Miss Scarlett. One hood to another.”

We take a back staircase upstairs and pass through a door, where he leads me down a long hall toward another door at the end. Knocking lightly, he waits until a feminine voice calls out, “Come in,” then he says to me, “Wait here,” before disappearing inside.

The door is solid wood, so I can’t hear what’s being said. Just that the girl raises her voice in anger, and then his low rumble follows.
She’s not happy. Maybe I won’t get those five minutes after all.
When the knob starts to turn, I quickly step away from the door before he opens it.

“You’ve got your five minutes. If she chooses not to talk to you, you will abide by your word. Understood?”

He’s so commanding and gruff, like a drill sergeant, I resist the smartass urge to click my heels and salute. Barely. “Got it.”

I’m surprised when he ushers me inside, then closes the door behind me. I kind of expected him to stand guard in the room or something. As I stare at the girl with the long golden blonde hair sitting on the window seat watching the storm rage outside, I realize he must be pretty close to the family to convince her to talk to me, however briefly.

“You have four minutes and thirty seconds,” the girl says on a heavy sigh without turning.

I can see by her profile she’s just as beautiful and aloof as she is in pictures. She’s a third year student, just a year behind me. Well, until she withdrew this semester.

I lift my chin and step forward. “Why did you really quit school, Mina? May I call you Mina?”

She turns gorgeous brown eyes my way, her gaze hesitant. “What’s your name?”

“Scarlett.” Approaching, I pull my notepad out of my cloak pocket and something falls on the floor.

Cass!
I mentally scream, my face flaming. I retrieve the gold foil packet and shove it back into my pocket, mumbling about annoying friends.

When I glance up, the girl’s nose is elevated and her face closes off. “Apparently Sebastian was wrong about you. I just lost my best friend. I’m not in the mood to become fodder for some trashy tabloid bimbo. You can leave now.”

“My friend put that in there as a joke,” I say in a low tone, trying not to take offense, but the girl’s anger has already shifted back to a glassy I-really-don’t-care-about-anything gaze. The sadness in her eyes pulls at something deep within me.

I slip the notepad and pen back in my cloak and untie the ribbon at my neck. Holding the cloak in my arms, I slide the mask off and offer an apologetic smile. “It’s only fair if you know who’s asking you questions. I’m Talia…and I understand loss more than you know.”

The girl’s hooded gaze turns curious. “Who did you lose?”

“I lost someone…who was like a sister to me…when I was thirteen. Her name was Amelia.” I haven’t talked about Amelia’s death to anyone. The words come out stuck together and raspy, like pages in an old photo album opened after years of deep storage. My aunt refuses to discuss that night. I suppose it’s just as painful for her, so we never talk about it.

Tears glisten in Mina’s eyes. “Does it get any easier?”

I sit beside her on the window seat and meet her pained gaze. “Missing her hurts a little less each year, but I have a hard time letting the guilt go.”

“Were you responsible somehow?” Mina’s eyes are wide, empathy in the dark depths.

I press my lips together. “No, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like I could’ve done something to prevent it.”

Her shoulders slump slightly. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“Drugs contributed to Amelia’s death,” I say, watching Mina’s expression. When she starts to glance away, I continue, “So you and I have that in common as well.”

She jerks her attention back to me, indignant. “Drugs didn’t kill Samantha!”

“Then tell me what did, Mina. My gut tells me there’s more to the story than what has officially been reported. Your roommate wasn’t really dealing drugs, was she?”

Extreme guilt washes over Mina’s expression before she presses her hands to her face, mumbling, “We didn’t want to do it. God, it’s all my fault she’s gone, but I can’t say a thing.”

I pull her hands from her face, bending down to look in her eyes. “Why not?”

She looks down at our hands. “Because others might get hurt if I do.”

Squeezing her hand, I say, “How many more people do you think might get hurt if you don’t speak up to stop it?”

She shakes her head, her voice a whisper. “Too many others’ lives could be ruined. The blackmail runs deep.”

“Blackmail? Were you and your roommate somehow coerced into distributing drugs?”

A slow nod.

“And others were too?” I continue.

When she nods again, I bite the inside of my cheek, fury flashing. This is no longer a story, but a mission. “How about if the article is totally anonymous?”

Hope lights her face, then her gaze dims. “Your name will be on it. They’ll trace you back to me as the source.”

“The author of the article will be anonymous too.”

She looks at me in confusion, her expression uncertain. “Why would you do that? I know how much a big scoop like this would mean to you. You’re studying journalism, right?”

My professors saw my potential and gave me special permission to start taking graduate level journalism courses as an undergraduate senior. I nod. “And yes, this story would give me a lot of career options after I graduate, but I don’t want to earn them that way,” I say, while I unclasp my necklace. Once I slide one of the hearts off my chain, I re-clasp it around my neck, then hold the heart out to her. “Here.”

She takes the tiny gold heart. “I don’t understand. Why are you giving me this?”

I nod toward the charm. “I was supposed to give that to Amelia when she was old enough. I’m giving it to you so you’ll know that I’ll keep my promise.”

Tears of relief trickle down her cheeks before she abruptly wraps her arms around my neck in a tight squeeze, whispering, “Thank you.”

Wheezing to regain my breath, I pull back and smile. “Are you okay with me taking notes?”

Mina nods and brushes the tears away, then takes off her own gold chain to slide the charm onto it.

Pen and notepad in hand, my gaze snags on the heart hanging on her necklace. I try to take a breath but my lungs seize and my throat closes up.

Her fingers drift to the charm. “Are you sure, Talia? It’s a wonderful gesture, but I trust you’ll keep your word.”

I swallow the lump and nod. “It looks perfect on you. Amelia had your coloring. It’s nice to see what it would’ve looked like on her.”

Mina smiles then nods toward the door. “Sebastian must really respect you.”

I pause in the middle of uncapping my pen. “Why do you say that?”

“Because he wouldn’t have just brought anyone back here to see me. Everyone has tried so hard to shelter and protect me, but Sebastian—” She pauses and giggles. “He’s such a rebel. I love that about him.”