“I just don’t like the guy.” He glanced around the room, and I saw him lock onto Cole. “I need to run something by Cole. Will you be okay by yourself for a moment?”
I laughed. “I’m the daughter of the man who’s going to be the next vice presidential candidate,” I said. “Trust me when I say that I can fake my way through any party on the planet.”
He kissed my cheek. “In that case, I’ll be back in a minute.”
As I watched him walk away, I couldn’t help but wonder what was so urgent that he needed to discuss it with Cole right then—and why the Creature Notebook had reminded him.
Not that I had long to think about it. Cole had done the reception up right for his students, and had invited more than a few of Chicago’s elite, and I soon found myself chatting with Thomas Claymore, who—under the guise of polite chitchat—made his bid to host the foundation’s gala.
I listened politely, then managed to extricate myself, talking first with a young woman who was one of Cole’s students and then with a short man in a perfectly tailored suit who held out his hand in greeting.
“Ms. Raine,” he said, his face bland face. “So glad to see you here.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Larry,” he said, still holding my hand.
I started to gently tug my hand free, but Larry tightened his grip. I frowned, assuming he was one of those men who just never quite managed the art of the handshake. But then his fingers tightened even more, and even before he spoke, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle in warning.
“Tell your boyfriend and his buddies to back off,” he said, without any particular menace in his voice. And it was his pleasant tone that made the conversation that much creepier. “Tell them that if they don’t there’s going to be trouble. More trouble. Tell them that’s a promise. You understand?”
“I—” I wanted to play it cool. To toss some brilliant comeback at him. To show that I wasn’t scared at all. But it wasn’t true, and I wasn’t that much of an actress. So all I did was gape at him, my mouth open like some frantic, hooked fish.
He stared at my face, his previously bland features now turning menacing. “Yeah, I think you do.”
Then he yanked his hand free, tipped his head, and disappeared into the crowd. I stood there, my blood so chilled I felt frozen to the spot. Evan. I willed myself to move. I needed to find Evan. I needed to warn him. To point this guy Larry out to him. To ask him what the hell was going on. Move, dammit, move.
I did. One step, then another.
And then one more until motion felt normal again.
But it wasn’t Evan I found when I finally made it across the room. It was Kevin.
I forced a smile. “Hello. I didn’t realize you were here.”
“Angie,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”
I smiled again, feeling awkward, because I didn’t say the expected reply—that I missed him, too.
But I didn’t. I didn’t miss him at all. And the truth was, I wished he’d just move on.
Unfortunately, Kevin was not in tune with what I wanted. That, of course, had been one of our problems all along.
“So who was that you were just talking to?” he asked.
That prickly, fearful feeling returned. “I—I’m not sure. Just some guy.”
“I thought perhaps you knew him,” Kevin said, in the kind of voice that suggested he knew exactly who Larry was—and why Larry’d come here. “He seemed very intense.” He took a step closer to me. “I almost came over to ask if I could help you. Should I have? Did you need help, Angie?”
I forced myself to meet his eyes. Forced myself to mask the fear.
I could only hope that I succeeded. “No, it was fine. Just some guy.” I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I think you’re reading too much into things, Kevin.”
“Am I?” His mouth curved down in a frown. “I don’t know.” He paused long enough that I actually thought he was going to say goodbye. But it wasn’t my day for good luck.