This time a laugh did escape. “Both.”
Dade knew he was a constant source of amusement for her, so why would this situation be any different? He leaned back into his seat to let the waiter serve his first course, all the while eyeing Sophia’s purse. He ran his finger under his collar as he’d been doing for the last few hours. Wishing it wasn’t quite so hot in the room and that the high collar’s embroidery didn’t feel as if it choked off his air.
“Relax. You’re acting tense, and someone’s bound to notice,” Clarissa said.
“I’m always tense at these things.” That was true. He hated these forced niceties with his family, though it was also true that this time, his tension had more to do with Clarissa’s request.
“Are you saying you can’t do it?” she asked, her voice light and taunting. “I’ve already planted mine.”
Leave it to Clarissa to make this into some sort of dare. There was no way he’d let her show him up. Clarissa was right that he was fully capable of pulling this off. Why did he shut down around his family? Dade needed to get out of his own head. Though that was easier said than done.
He glanced again at his father to make sure Hernim wasn’t paying attention. Rylick watched him, though. Or maybe it was Clarissa he eyed. Either way, it meant Dade had to be cautious. His gaze slid back to the purse.
Dade’s first opportunity happened after the second course, a soup made from indigenous icca greens. Sophia opened her purse and took out her datapad. She turned away, leaving the bag open. Now was his chance to make his move. Just as he reached forward to drop the disk into her purse, his father stood and tapped his glass with a fork.
The ringing of silver against crystal had Dade pulling back.
Hernim Croix cleared his throat. “Thank you for joining us to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my son and Clarissa Hemstock.”
The guests politely clapped.
Dade’s hand closed around the disk as they became the center of attention. The mention of their engagement soured Dade’s mood.
Clarissa leaned into him. She petted his arm and then gave him a pinch. “Smile.”
Mr. and Mrs. Hemstock, Clarissa’s parents, sat across from them. They accepted the praise for brokering such an advantageous match for their daughter by preening and thanking the other guests, as if they were the ones to be married. Mrs. Hemstock was short, her Asian heritage strongly evident in her coloring and features, whereas Clarissa’s father was tall and willowy, and quite pale. An oddity for one of the Solizen, who were usually golden with tanned skin, a source of pride. The Hemstocks weren’t warm people. There was always a rigidity that struck Dade as off-putting. He didn’t trust anyone he couldn’t read. The fact that they were a rival Solizen family was less significant.
The spotlight didn’t leave Dade or Clarissa for several minutes. Various toasts were offered. Dade maintained a strained smile throughout, with the disk pressed into his palm. He felt every second of the stares trained on him. A light sweat started across his brow, but he didn’t move to wipe it away. That would show weakness.
“Tonight isn’t all about our children,” Hernim said, taking his seat. The waiters moved forward to serve the main course as Hernim moved the discussion to the true reason they were there: the thefts they were experiencing.
“The gangs are becoming more aggressive. I’ve lost three shipments in the last five weeks,” said a woman with tightly curled gray hair. She wore yellowed pearls around her throat, a demonstration of her power to own a priceless artifact from the Old Planet. The necklace moved against her neck as she spoke.
This was the part Dade found hypocritical. To the outside world, these high-ranking members of society made their money from legitimate prescription drugs. They did this by jacking up the prices and driving down the supply so that they could profit the most from it. They weren’t trying to help people. Behind closed doors, they lamented the loss of their drug capital. As if they didn’t collectively own 85 percent of the city’s income. How were they different than the street gangs?
“Lasair,” Hernim agreed, naming the biggest Undercity gang, and a thorn in their side. It wasn’t the only gang that stole from them, but they were the loudest. They liked to taunt, to let the Solizen know that they were causing havoc. “They’ve increased their hits on Croix Industries as well. It’s time someone took control of the streets and flushed them out.”
“We have some leads on where they’re meeting,” Chief Nakomzer said. “But we’re getting stalled by the lack of cameras that still work in Undercity.”
Dade squeezed his hand. The disk tucked inside pressed into his flesh, reminding him that he still had a job to do no matter how distracted he was by the conversation. Talk of Lasair made him think of Arden. She hadn’t said where she was from, yet his gut instinct told him she was from Undercity in spite of the fact that she shouldn’t be able to travel to Above. If she were a member of Lasair, she’d have a way to do that, though. She’d been too capable with the knife, in a way only the streets could teach a person. And she had that desperate, determined look of someone with nothing to lose.
The need to see her again washed over him, making him both excited and anxious. He had to keep those feelings locked down, and instead come up with a way to plant the bug. He shouldn’t be daydreaming of a girl he’d met only once and instead should pay attention to the danger he was in right now.
“If the government can’t contain the city gangs, we need to look into other options,” Hernim said.
“Now wait a minute.” Chief Nakomzer held up his hand in an attempt to stop Dade’s father from going where he was headed with that insinuation. “We can’t condone vigilantism. Doing so would cause a widespread panic.”
No one looked impressed.
Chief Nakomzer sputtered. “We have more than your internal thefts to worry about. The citizens in the Lower Levels are showing signs of mobilization. This is the greater threat at the moment.”
“To whom?” the lady with the pearls asked.
Nakomzer frowned. “To all of us.”