sized up Roy and clearly found him lacking. “Where’s your mask?”
“I’m not afraid of anyone in here,” he grumbled into his drink. Although his jittery fingers and cagey gaze betrayed his lie. “Any word on who this mystery bidder is going to be tonight?”
“Bidder on what?” she asked, stroking her nail down the perfume bottle.
“The only thing here everyone wants.”
“Couldn’t it be everyone in this room?” she asked.
“Funny, because word on the street is that it’s you,” Roy said sardonically. “And you forget that you owe me. Twice. So if I were you, I’d reconsider your plan.”
His eyes flicked over Freya’s head to meet mine. I glared at him until he took a step back, tugging at his collar.
“We were told members became bloodthirsty on the night of the auction,” she sighed.
“We had a deal,” he whispered urgently. “No one in this room understands the situation that I’m in.”
I wasn’t afraid of Roy—he was an annoying pissant I could knock unconscious in a millisecond—but those shifting loyalties were alive and well tonight. The confined space, the low ceilings, the way the masks concealed facial expressions…everything felt much, much more dangerous.
“I don’t recall making any such deal with you. I know what I want,” Freya said. “And I’ll be taking it.” She extended her hand for him to shake. “May the best woman win.”
Roy walked away with a sneer.
I would let Freya Evandale take me however she wanted.
“Interesting conversations we’re having this evening,” she said quietly.
“I don’t trust him,” I said quietly. “Not one bit. Especially after what we learned back upstairs.”
She grimaced. “We’re in agreement.”
We watched as Roy slithered through the crowd, drawing stares at his unadorned face. The seats by the stage were starting to fill. The auction was about to begin. And the scuffling behind the curtain had grown louder.
“What’s behind it?” I asked again, desperately curious.
Freya twitched the material back an inch and froze in abject terror. I was by her side in two strides, grabbing it from her fingers.
It was a giant, rattling cage. Inside was a full-grown white tiger, snarling like we were his next meal.
39
Freya
“Oh my god, what the fuck,” I wheezed, leaping a foot back from the wild carnivore prowling in a cage much too small. “I didn’t know they’d be auctioning off exotic animals tonight. I’ve always wanted to see a white tiger, I guess.”
Exotic animals, stolen rare books, it’s a lot of the same people, Delilah whispered. I nodded, touching my throat. I knew this rationally, but being confronted with the strange, creeping tension of this evening was unsettling.
“As much as I want to keep hanging out with this tiger, I think we need to be seated,” Sam murmured.
“Let’s do this,” I replied.
After a furtive glance over his shoulder, he kissed my palm, the tips of my fingers, the inside of my wrist. I needed the reminder we were in this together.
Thank you, I mouthed to him, cupping his face for all of a second. We slipped back into the auction room. The old bar was carved with art deco designs and lit up with lightbulbs. The bartender could have stepped right out of the Prohibition era. The jazz music, the masks, the pearls and bowties, the absinthe in perfume bottles. Dr. Ward was a showman, and tonight was certainly his show.
“Your bid paddle, sir,” one of the attendants said, passing us a paddle with #13 in the center.
“Some would call that number unlucky,” I said.
“Not Ward.” Sam studied the man on the stage. “Ward doesn’t believe in luck. Only opportunity.”
Ward motioned for the two of us to sit in the very front row. Sam and I sat in the two seats on the left side, next to the narrow aisle. The stage was short—barely six inches in height—which brought Ward directly in front of us.
Sven stood guard by the only exit. He was employed by the “morally gray” security firm that Victoria Whitney had hired to protect the manuscript she’d stolen. Sven had shot at Henry and Delilah as they ran from her house. The firm was beloved by the rich and fucking shady, and their sole motivation was money.
And Sven had taken Sam’s gun.
Roy swooped into the empty seat to my left. “Remember our deal,” he whispered in my ear. I turned up my nose and didn’t reply. All we had to do was get our hands on those letters, transfer the funds, and let the FBI do the rest.