Page 24 of Auctioned for Her Blood
“It was just me and my mom.” I take another sip of the wine while I consider how to respond. I’ve never told anyone what happened to my mother, and I’m no longer sure I even trust my memories of what happened. Over the years, my memories have become intertwined with nightmares and false memories—of fires, of other attacks, of losing people I don’t even know.
“Mom was…she disappeared.” The verbtakenwould open too many questions.
“Disappeared? How?” He gestures to a passing waiter and then reaches for my flute, and I’m shocked to find it’s nearly empty. He exchanges our glasses for two full ones.
“She disappeared into thin air.” I shrug, covering my feelings and wishing I’d just claimed she was dead. “Just up and left me.”
He frowns, clearly not satisfied with this answer. “Thin air? She did not leave any clues?”
“None that were useful.” I sip my champagne, hoping to disguise how much that day haunts me. How my memories, although vivid, no longer seem real.
Once I left the farm and discovered the world, the internet, I did look for my mom. And I asked questions at the bank where the money she left me was held, talked to the lawyers who set up the trusts, but no one could, or would, tell me a thing.
But I don’t want to come off as the poor little orphan girl.
Discomfort rising inside me, I change the subject. “That guy with the gold bar, Ryker, do you know him?”
Zuben’s demeanor changes. His muscles tighten, his spine and jaw stiffen, and a dark cloud settles around him. A chill traces down my spine, as if he changed the room’s climate.
“Stay away from that man.” Zuben’s voice is harsh, losing its silky smooth texture.
“Why?”
“Ryker is dangerous. The worst kind of scoundrel.”
“He seems nice to me.” I raise my chin. “He’s very charming, and he made such a generous donation.” I don’t know why I’m arguing. Dangerous is exactly how Ryker first seemed to me. Still does.
“Ryker Stone is a criminal,” Zuben says crisply.
I gasp. “That gold bar? Was it stolen?”
Zuben nods.
“From whom?”
“My employer.”
“DEFTA?”
He nods.
“Should we call the police?” My eyes widen and I scan the room, looking for Ryker, spotting him thirty feet away, leaning against a high-top table, staring at me and Zuben. Okay…staring at me.
I turn my attention back to Zuben and lean in close to whisper, “Did you already call the police when you and Shana went to the front desk?” The police crashing in here woulddefinitelychange the room’s climate. I should warn Shana, but she might already know. Part of me wants to warn Ryker.
“No police.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he sighs. “I do not have sufficient evidence to prove his thievery. Not yet.”
“So, it’s just a suspicion?” I glance back toward Ryker who nods and winks.
“Ember.” Zuben reaches forward and our fingers brush. Alarmed by the warmth that floods through me. I sway slightly, momentarily knocked off balance. Or maybe it’s these high heels.
“I cannot stress this enough,” Zuben says, his voice serious. “Stay away from Ryker. He is a dangerous criminal—a pirate.”
“Wait a minute.” Smiling, I tip my head to the side, assuming he’s joking. Are the two of them playing a prank on me? “A pirate?” I chuckle—although now that the word’s been mentioned, he does dress like one. Maybe that’s what put the idea in Zuben’s head.
But Zuben remains stony faced—and gorgeously handsome. If he’s joking, he’s got an amazing poker face.
“So… You’re claiming he’s a pirate. Like a swashbuckler on the high seas?” Is this jealousy talking? If it is, I’m not sure I like this side of Zuben.
