“Dixon,” Lilith purred, “this is all very nice. I’m always happy to meet your friends. But where is Rowena?” She held his arm, pressing against him.
He wanted to take his time, to drag things out. He wanted to give Mara as much time as possible to get as far away as possible.
“Well,” he finally drawled, “that’s a long story and . . . not a happy one, I’m sorry to say.”
“Oh, Dixon!” she said, leaning even more closely, brushing her breast against him. It was a mannerism she’d practiced to perfection. “You always talk in riddles!” Her laughter bubbled, but there was no sincerity to it.
“Truly,” he continued as he gently, but not too obviously, tried to extricate himself from her grasp, “I’m afraid my news is not . . . good news.”
“And what news would that be?”
He breathed slowly. He paused and looked to the ground. He had to buy time, to drag things out. “I’m so very sorry to tell you that Rowena . . . is . . . dead,” he finally said, looking up.
Lilith’s eyes flashed toward the men still loosely assembled near the door. He followed the look. The leader opened his mouth as though to speak, then closed it. Quickly, Dixon averted his gaze so she wouldn’t know that he’d witnessed the exchange.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish