Page 114 of Dash

Rivera’s face paled.

“About that talk.” I leaned against the stone wall and, keeping my gun in my hand, crossed my arms. “Let’s have it.”

***

Thena

Fanning his flustered face, my uncle drew a fortifying sip of his champagne. “Has Dashiell gone mad?” He settled the flute on the table. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry you had to witness that.” I shook myself out of the shock and took a deep breath. “I can’t tell you what’s going on, not yet.”

“This is no way to treat your guests.” He threw a hand in the air. “It’s preposterous!”

I traded a commiserating look with Drew.

One moment, Uncle Arthur had been regaling me and Micah with tales about my mother when she was young. The next moment, Dash and Drew had barged in with weapons out, and Dash and Micah had escorted Rivera out of the room.

Jorge Rivera.God. I rubbed my forehead. I would’ve bet the Astor fortune on his innocence. What did this say about me?

That I trusted too much. That my senses were blunted to danger and the ill-will of others. That all these years, I’d been blind to the threat. The killer had been right under my nose. I would be dead by now if Dash hadn’t come to my assistance.

The rustle of rings swooshing over iron brought me back from my state of consternation. To my right, Drew rushed to close the heavy draperies over the French doors.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Following orders.” Drew shut the last curtain then proceeded with his usual efficiency to lock all accesses to the room, except the principal doors. Holding his rifle across his chest, he came full circle. He stood to my right with the wall against his back, flanking the main doors.

“You’re blinking,” I pointed out at the flickering green light I spotted hooked on his belt.

“Comms,” was all he said.

“Well, I won’t let Dashiell ruin your special day.” UncleArthur pushed up from his chair, walked behind me, and paused before the cart where the cake stood. “I’m also not letting this lovely treat go to waste.”

“You want to have cake?” I frowned, staring at my uncle. “After all this?”

“Looks delicious.” He contemplated the tiered confection with gleaming eyes before he shifted his stare to me. “It’s time.”

He slid up his jacket’s sleeve and sank his hand into the cake’s base layer, crushing the fondant and destroying the top tiers as he moved his hand around.

I stared up at him in disbelief. “What are you doing?”

“Ah.” He ignored me and widened his smirk. “Here it is.”

He withdrew his forearm. It was covered in cake. In his hand, he clutched a wrapped bundle. For a moment there, I couldn’t make sense of his actions. He pulled on the cord that held the package together. Unfolding the edges of the bundle, he undid the packet. My mouth fell and my heart stopped beating. Perched atop a triple layer of plastic wrap and soft leather, a handgun laid on his palm.

Chapter Thirty-two

Thena

“You?” I stared up at my uncle, unable to believe my eyes.

“Me.” He flashed a terrible smirk and licked the cream off his fingertips.

“But…” Had I gone mad in the last two minutes? Had he? “Why?”

“That, my dear, is a complex question that requires complex answers.”

The greed that gleamed in his eyes robbed me of breath. The biting chill in my stomach expanded to my extremities. My toes and fingers went numb. Gone was the affectionate man who’d read me stories as a child. Before my very eyes, the notion of sweet Uncle Arthur evaporated like a mirage. It dawned on me that his behavior forecasted all kinds of disaster.

---