Bite Back Box Set 1

by Mark Henwick

  Kath recovered the situation with introductions all around, and then made an excuse and led me away.

  “What a surprise. Amber, I haven’t seen you in a dress since high school. You look good.”

  And you haven’t said that to me since high school, I thought. Something seemed to have mellowed her attitude a little.

  “I promised you a quick review of your case.” She looked down and frowned. “I think Carter is an ass. His lawyers think he’s an ass. About now, even he’s starting to think he’s an ass. He’ll be looking for a way out, but the easiest solution would be if you backed down and then he can be magnanimous. If we don’t give him that, he’ll withdraw the suit anyway in a week or two. Just leave it to me, and whatever you do, don’t talk to him. He’ll be here tonight.”

  “Okay. Thanks,” I said, “and thanks for taking it.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that, and lunch. I guess Carter’s not the only ass.” She gave me a quick, uncertain smile.

  I felt a flicker of hope that, after this was over, we could behave like sisters again. I didn’t know what demands being Athanate might have on me, but surely, I would be okay for that.

  “You’ve been under pressure. I understand,” I said.

  “You don’t know the half of it.” She glanced around to make sure we were out of earshot from anyone. The rising buzz of conversations from people at the bar gave us complete privacy. “I’m being evaluated for a partnership.”

  “Kath, that’s fantastic news.” The firm she worked for was about as crusty as they come out here. For Kath to be considered as a partner with only six years’ service was unprecedented.

  She grabbed my arm. “Please, don’t spoil it for me. All the partners are here tonight.”

  “I’ll avoid them. And if they talk to me, I’ll be demure. But honestly, what could I say that would hurt your chances?”

  Kath’s eyes swiveled. “It’s your sense of humor, Amber. Remember the pastor? The frogs in Cassie’s bed? Or what about Mom’s boss at the barbeque that time?”

  “Oh yeah. I had forgotten them. Oh God, that was fun!”

  At Kath’s glare, I quelled the giggles and looked solemn. Well, I had only been fourteen.

  The sound of a gong interrupted us. The crowd around the bar went quieter and started to drift towards the escalators to the ballroom. Jen was ushering people in and waved at me.

  “Keep away from Kingslund, she’s trouble,” said Kath.

  “Don’t be silly, she’s just a bit of an extrovert. Anyway, I’m temporarily renting an office from her in her house next to the Country Club. I’m advising her on security.”

  She looked surprised, but before she could say anything, I went on, “I just wanted to say, you look good, too. You look like a partner in an awesome legal firm, sis. I’m proud.”

  Kath smiled her thanks at me as Taylor appeared at her side to whisk her off to impress the hell out of the partners. I was happy for her. I’d rather clean sewers than work in a legal firm, but Kath loved it, she worked hard at it, and this was her due reward.

  I focused on the fiery red of Jen’s dress and made my way to her side.

  The attendees were arranged at round tables with about a dozen people for each. Jen and the committee had worked hard to spread the international delegation throughout the room, and to seat them with people who had an interest in whatever industry they represented. A hum of conversation built up quickly.

  I had come doubting that anyone would really be interested in a private investigator and intending to spend my time scanning the international trade delegation for my Athanate contact. As it turned out, the people to my right were fascinated by what I did. Without telling them any complete lies, I did my bit for the investigation industry. Jen sat at my left and entertained her side of the table with an update on her plans to set up a Quarter Horse race track just outside of town.

  Opposite us sat the delegate from Malaysia, a businessman specializing in manufacturing plastic fasteners. I would have been hard put to tell if he was Athanate across the width of the table, but he didn’t seem to be.

  Halfway around the table sat Jack Tucker. He was quiet, other than to support Jen’s ideas about the race track.

  After the dessert, Lloyd McIntire and Ethel Harriman stood and made a brief shared speech, thanking everyone for their contributions, welcoming the international visitors and outlining the ways the money raised would be spent.

  The mayor said a few words on how wonderful Denver was.

  The guest speaker was an international businessman and CEO of a mining company. He spoke well and praised Denver for its workforce and the positive attitude of the business community. Mercifully brief.

  As the applause died down, the band started to play.

  Jen grabbed my hand, grinning. “I know you can dance.” I had told her about the dance lessons I’d had, mentioning that as the tallest girl there, I had generally had to dance as the male partner. “Committee members have to lead by example.”

  She hauled me off to the dance floor. The band wasn’t particularly expecting anyone out this early, but they’d started with a simple cha-cha-cha, thank the stars. Unfortunately, we had the floor to ourselves.

  I was here on a job, and the person who was going to be contacting me knew only that I was the woman with Jennifer Kingslund. I guessed this was a good a way as any to advertise that. I was going to have to make a bit of a spectacle of myself anyway, to give everyone in the delegation an opportunity to pass the message to me, so it might as well be by dancing.

  At its simplest for the man, the cha-cha-cha is a basic, three-step dance and serves to provide a muted background for the woman to show off her skills. Of necessity, that’s the way we played it with me as the male lead. I decided my advice to all men wanting to look good on the dance floor was to get a partner who can really dance. Jen could really dance.

  Thankfully, a few others took the hint and some couples joined us. I relaxed and started to enjoy it, and we laughed as I nearly missed passes here and there. By the end, it was probably looking quite natural and I was immersed in my role. Part of which was, of course, to kiss my partner’s hand.

  I bent my head and our eyes met. The room seemed to recede and her eyes widened a touch. A little shock traveled down my body and settled in my stomach. Whoops.

  At the same time, I smelled Athanate. Close.

  “Jennifer, would you introduce me to your partner, please?”

  “Luc, hello,” Jen said, recovering herself. “This is my friend, Amber.”

  I turned to find a tall man standing behind me with a pleasant smile and raised eyebrows.

  Another man swooped in on Jen and her eyes met mine again for a second before she was whisked away.

  “Luc, pleased to meet you.” I shook his hand. Diana had briefed me well enough. So this was Luc Matlal, the leader of the Athanate Basilikos party. He didn’t let go of my hand. I thought for a moment he might even kiss it.

  “And I am enchanted to meet you, Amber. You lead well. However, may I lead this dance?” His eyes sparkled with humor. He looked fortyish, slim with a sharp face and black hair combed straight back.

  I cocked an ear to the band. They would stick with whatever made people dance, so I imagined it was going to be Latin dances for a while.

  “A salsa. Yes.”

  We danced. The salsa is not designed for talking to your partner, more a way to show your intentions with your body. I had no intentions towards Matlal, other than to listen to what he might say to me, but the dance has a life of its own. Matlal’s eyes grew very intent.

  As the music ended, we were at one side of the dance floor and this time he did actually brush my hand with his lips. A little shiver ran down my spine, but it wasn’t pleasure.

  “Have you ever been to Mexico?” he asked.

  “No,” I replied, retrieving my hand.

  “I will enjoy showing it to you. I will show you a side of Mexico that tourists do not see.”


  I bet he would. Not necessarily a part that most would want to see. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, Luc.”

  “I will arrange it. An exchange between Houses in good standing with each other. I will insist.” He paused and frowned a little. “Forgive me, I thought I knew the marque of every House, but I cannot place yours.”

  I knew exactly what he meant, but I just looked blankly at him. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Excuse me.” I turned to leave. Whatever Skylur had hoped I might learn from talking to him had been lost.

  He grabbed my arm and his face was angry now. “I did not give you permission to leave. I can smell you, little Aspirant. Tell me what House you belong to.”

  I turned back and broke his grip. He was very strong, but he retained just enough sense to not start a struggle on the dance floor.

  Then I got in his face. “I don’t need your permission. And the thing that bit me died from it.”

  He glared at me, not backing down. “You will tell me your House.” I felt the probing gray fingers of an attack. I didn’t need to reach any depth at all to find anger to fuel my defense.

  “Now, Senor Matlal, you know my rules.” Rescue, in the unlikely shape of Ethel Harriman, appeared at my side. “One dance at a time.”

  Matlal’s face underwent an immediate transformation, painful as it must have been for him. “Have you come to claim a dance with me, Mrs. Harriman?” He was charm itself, despite the anger that remained in his eyes.

  “Thank you, no. My dancing days are long gone. I want to take Amber off the floor for a while.” She turned to me. “I simply must know where the dress has come from, my dear.”

  She took my arm and steered me away. “I hope you don’t mind my familiarity. I know we haven’t been introduced but Jen told me your name. Please call me Ethel.”

  “Thank you, Ethel,” I said and left it as to what I was thanking her for. I took some deep breaths and forced the anger back down. Ethel’s face was calm and composed, but I suspected there was little her sharp eyes didn’t see.

  “I know Senor Matlal does good work with his orphanages and so on, but I find I can’t warm to him.” She shrugged. “Now that dress, my dear. Jen tells me it was made in Denver.”

  We were close enough to my table, so I retrieved some cards from my bag.

  “I don’t like people complaining there’s nothing different here and then shopping in national stores. Rather than live in a cultural wasteland, I believe we should support local enterprise. Lisa Macy made this for me and I think she and others like her deserve our encouragement.” I thought that summarized what Jen had said to me about local causes, and Ethel certainly liked it. She asked for two of Lisa’s cards and took one of mine.

  “Oh, I love your card too. It’s quite outrageous. The sort of thing that gives Lloyd conniptions. I look forward to showing him later.” She chuckled and folded her hands in front of her, looking at me quizzically with her head to one side. “Why haven’t we met before, Amber?”

  “Well, as it says on my card, part of my business is being discreet, and this sort of occasion isn’t.” We both laughed. “Very enjoyable though. Then, as well, I’m…” I struggled with how to put it. “I’m not well placed financially at the moment.”

  “Oh my goodness, dear, none of us are, at the moment. We’re all poor as church mice.” She laid a bejeweled hand across her chest. “Wall Street! Simply appalling!”

  “Yes,” I agreed weakly, struggling with the images of Mrs. Harriman being poor and my owning shares. “The stock market. And so on.”

  “Well,” she said, patting my arm, “no matter. I knew if you were friends with Jen, you’d be sharp. Here’s my card and I hope you’ll be able to be less discreet in the future. You may not have a choice after tonight, my dear. Eligible bachelors will be all over you.” She smiled coyly, eyes seeking out Jen. “If they get a chance. And speaking of bachelors, here’s young Alex Deauville. I’ll leave him to you.” She sailed away like a galleon.

  I turned. Oh yum! Hot, hot, hot. Alex Deauville had swagger and a lot of looks.

  “I heard Ethel introduce me,” he said, holding out his hand. “Alex.”

  “Amber,” I replied and smiled at him, shaking his hand. He was about six-two, strongly built, with broad shoulders, and his light brown hair was a bit long. His eyes were an uncertain color, between gold and green, and something untamed looked out at me through them. Double yum.

  “Shall we dance?” he asked, with an undertone that suggested there might be other things we could try.

  The demon leaped up. “I’m not sure. My last two partners have set a very high standard.” My eyes were saying yes, if he could read them.

  Apparently he could read my eyes. He took my hand and, lifting it, led me back formally to the dance floor.

  The band had suddenly decided to take a small break from Latin, and instead we had a waltz. I gritted my teeth and kept smiling. Alex’s hand came up into the small of my back and we stepped out. One-two-three I counted in my head until the body fixed on it and moved of its own accord. Not my best dance, but not what was uppermost in my mind either.

  Hot I’d called it when I saw him, and hot he was; a heat that flowed out from him and collected in a pool in my belly. He smelled so good; beneath a dash of some cologne and male warmth, he made me think of pines and mountain meadows. Something inside me was sitting up and really taking notice in a way it hadn’t for far too long.

  It was just a shame I wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it, without risking infecting him.

  We didn’t speak. At first, I was pleased he was giving me an opportunity to concentrate on getting the steps right. But then once I had relaxed into it, he could have started to talk and he didn’t. I’d never danced a slow dance without talking before. Our eyes met. I think we both looked slightly surprised and the silence took on a shared quality that neither of us wanted to break. I was startled when the music ended and we came to a halt.

  “Was that acceptable?” He grinned at me.

  “Quite,” I replied, putting my hands behind my back like a teenager. “Ethel says we must exchange cards.” Gimme your card, bad boy.

  “Later. After our second dance.”

  The demon wouldn’t let him get away with that. “If I’m not too busy.” I smiled over my shoulder at him as I walked back to my table.

  Oh gods, dances with Jen, Matlal and Alex. I needed to sit down for a moment.

  Jack Tucker was alone at the table. I snagged my drink and sat next to him.

  “Mr. Tucker, good evening. I’m Amber Farrell.”

  He grunted. “It’s Jack. Pleased to meet you, Amber. Are you enjoying the ball?”

  “Very much. You’re not a dancer?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll stay with what I’m good at.” He raised one brow at me. “You’re the Amber Farrell that’s just stuck it to Campbell Carter?”

  “Not my intention, but yes.” Tucker would know Carter, of course. I steeled myself.

  “Calling Carter an ass is libel against perfectly good donkeys.”

  I laughed in surprise.

  “Carter’s got such a hard-on for politics, he’s lost touch with his company. It’s not your fault that other people took advantage of that.” His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “It’s typical of him and his type. The old-money set.”

  “Well, it’s refreshing to hear your view. I expected to have to listen politely to a defense of poor, maligned Campbell.”

  “You might yet, from others. Make no mistake, your actions have caused me considerable trouble. Considerable. But that wasn’t your intention.” He shrugged. “You’re obviously very skilled and maybe those skills might be put to use for me. I have lots of opportunities for a person who can stand up to a man like Matlal and provide security for someone like Kingslund.” He didn’t sound as if he liked either of them, and clearly, he hadn’t missed my turn on the dance floor.

  Tucker took a long swall
ow of his wine and gave me a sideways stare. “You probably think I’ve got a chip on my shoulder about old money. But that Alex Deauville you were dancing with, he’s old money and I’ve got a lot of time for him. He tell you he’s a fully qualified doctor?” He snorted at my blank look. “No, didn’t think so.”

  “What happened?”

  Tucker shrugged. “Chucked it all and set up a trucking company. Parents disowned him. I liked his guts. Gave him his first contract. And you won’t find his drivers cheating him like Carter’s were.”

  A banker I’d seen in the papers, Scott Borders, joined us. He and Tucker started arguing about business, which gave me an opportunity to study Tucker a bit more. Top of the list, my nose told me Tucker was spending a lot of time around Athanate. I couldn’t tell if he’d been bitten, but it wouldn’t have surprised me.

  As far as I could tell, Borders was trying to get Tucker to take Lloyd McIntire onto his board. Tucker wasn’t having it and started to sound more and more extreme.

  “This financial crash is what the world needed.” He stabbed a finger at Borders. “A wake-up call to get rid of these parasites and knock down the house of cards that they built. They’ll find all this inner circle shit won’t turn into credit when they want it. You think you’re in with them, you think you’re accepted, but you never are, never will be. Time has come to take sides.”

  “You make it sound like the revolution is just around the corner, Jack,” I said, trying to calm it down.

  He snorted. “I probably do. Now I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. The one good thing that Matlal’s brought north with him is Inez, my fiancée, and she’s just arrived.”

  I turned to see a dark-haired woman talking to Matlal. “You do business with Matlal?”

  He snorted again as he got up. “Only because I have to. He’s not the cooperating kind, if you know what I mean.”

  “Isn’t he old money, Jack?” Borders asked.

  “You would think so to look at him, but he’s not. Born in a slum and made every single dollar himself.” He looked at me, his eyes turning cold. “Not like Kingslund. Take a word of advice, don’t ever need something from her. Might cost more than you can afford. And don’t ever make the mistake of thinking you know where you stand with her. A turn on the dance floor is fun, but you’d be well advised to keep away from her. Starting right now.”