Page 22 of Vipers & Roses

This is new news to Cormac as he hones in on Lyons and watches him briefly as if hoping to catch him in the act before Cormac drops his gaze onto me. His face’s an interesting expression as if the pieces of a complicated puzzle had just fallen into place. This realization of his is confusing because I didn’t think he viewed me as a puzzle with missing pieces in the first place. But I have already seen great insight come out of this man of my age, and perhaps I shouldn’t assume he’s just another jock.

He leans in close to speak privately to me when his phone beeps with a notification, and to my astonishment, the name BLAKE flashes across the screen.

Cormac’s big hand quickly seized his phone, covering the name that flashed up, and I immediately doubted what I saw. Maybe it was BLACK, not BLAKE. Even if it was Blake that I saw, there must be hundreds of Blake’s around, including the surname. There’s no way in hell that Blake would be the same as Z's gun dealer friend.

I’m tempted to grab my phone and type a question into Google’s search engine: How many people have the name Blake on Torres Island?

This night is only getting stranger the longer I sit here.

Cormac’s thumbs tap on his phone screen as I lean back in my chair, trying to glimpse his message. But he’s too quick and sends it, then slips his phone into his pant pocket out of reach.

“Oh great,” Lucy exclaims as a plate of food is placed before her. “I’m so hungry.”

“We had to preorder,” Cormac states, “and I ordered roast chicken and vegetables on your behalf. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” I answer, then add under my breath, “don’t do that again.”

“What?” his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

I didn’t mean for him to hear that. “I'm not a fan of men ordering for me,” I tell him as a large plate of roast chicken breast, covered in gravy, potato, sweet potato, yams, peas, and carrots, is placed before me. My stomach rumbles in hunger as I realize I haven’t eaten since breakfast. But I’ll let you off this time.”

“Point taken and lesson learned,” he says flatly. “I remember what female mantises do.”

“What did you order me for dessert?” I ask, picking up the chicken breast with my fingers and taking a bite with as much gracefulness as a ten-ton gorilla.

Warm gravy dribbles down my chin as I catch a look of utter delight on Cormac’s face. “Here, let me,” he says, cleaning the gravy off my chin with his thumb, then licking it off. “First, it was green insect sludge, now gravy. What next?”

“Blood,” I whisper just as his phone beeps, and I don’t think he heard me. “But not mine.”

He reads the message, and his face drops. “I need to make a phone call,” he tells me sternly as he pushes his chair back.

“I hope everything is okay,” I said, my eyes glued to his phone, hoping to glimpse Blake’s name to see if I had imagined it.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he assures me as he strides away, and I watch him disappear out the exit.

“Must be important and confidential if he needs to leave the building to call someone,” I mumble, as the sensation of someone watching me makes me look up. The narrowed eyes of Lyons drill holes into my skull as my heart does a triple somersault against my ribcage.

First, I glance about the room to see if anyone is looking in my direction before I boldly hold my stare. Without blinking, I place two fingers against my temple to represent a gun, then imitate the trigger being pulled. There’s a flash of something in his eyes—not fear or surprise, but arrogance and disgust that I would dare do such a thing to someone as powerful as he. His greatest mistake is that he assumes that I’m fooling around with an empty threat.

When a second pair of eyes land on my face, I quickly drop my hand away, dive back into my roast chicken, and pretend it didn’t happen. Calm on the outside, while a tornado is twisting on the inside.

As everything becomes more apparent, I realize that was a dumb move because now I’ve exposed myself not only to the man I plan to kill but to his wife, who just saw me mimic his demise.

12

Cormac returns to his cold seat after being gone for ten minutes. I kept my head down the entire time, avoiding eye contact and conversation with everyone around me. Luckily, the food was too enticing; otherwise, I would’ve left him in the dust after taking so long.

“Sorry about that,” he says, placing his phone on the table and picking up a fork.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, dumbfounded that he wasn’t more convincing with his apology, but he seems quite distant, so it must be a rather significant problem.

“Yeah, it’s just my dad,” he tells me, and my heart flutters a little, remembering that bear hug he gave me. I felt so warm and safe, cocooned in his embrace, that I could’ve easily gone to sleep.

“Is he okay?” I ask, eager for information, although Cormac keeps avoiding my eye, so I suspect it isn’t his father at all.

“Yeah, that's good. How’s the meal?” I note a quick subject change. It's very annoying.

“Fine, but I was considering leaving because you were taking so long,” I growl, dissatisfied with his explanation.

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