Attest (Centrifuge Duet Book 2)(13)
B leads me across the road. Up ahead, I see a new building. It’s brightly lit and surrounded by a milling crowd of well-dressed people who are lining up to enter through the wide-open doors and a more casually dressed group who are yelling at them to stop so they can take their pictures.
It’s my idea of hell. A bunch of vultures demanding their pound of flesh.
“Our invitation will only get us through the side door.” With a swish of her skirt and a tug on my arm, B leads me past the crowd and through the parking lot until we’re at a small white side door. The door is closed. The light over it is not switched on. The darkness matches my dampening mood as I clock onto the fact that she’s just fucking with me.
“Okay, enough,” I snap. “I get it. Just let me go back to the house. I’ll stay put until you arrive tomorrow.”
The light over the door turns on. My eyes need a moment to adjust, and in that time, the door opens to reveal a large man. I recognise him—he’s the guy in the photos in the file B gave me this afternoon. The unnamed man who attended the Centrifuge meetings with Jax and his father, Amber’s father, Judge McManus, and Seb.
A tendril of jealousy wraps around my heart at the thought of Seb. Visions of Amber’s hand on his thigh when they visited me in prison assault me. While I’m occasionally worried that she might be happy to stay with Jax, I’m more concerned about her relationship with his younger brother. I’ve been locked away for two years and she’s never once tried to visit again.
Seb’s influence or something else?
“Did you bring it?” The man who opened the door questions B.
I catch a glimpse of her sliding something into his hand. A USB, maybe?
“I did, Harry.” My ears prick up when she says the familiar name.
Well, it’s this just great? I’m face to face with the infamous Harry that the Warden mentioned earlier tonight. It’s hard, but I try to contain my delight at learning something that may be of use in this game.
“Good,” he grunts. Motioning his head toward the entrance behind him, he beckons us inside. “Follow me. We’ve got to make this quick.”
We’re led into a small room.
Harry points at a black tuxedo. “For you. Get dressed.”
They leave the room together. I stare at the suit. Distaste sours my mouth, and for a moment, I contemplate planting my ass on the floor and refusing to get dressed, only to dismiss the idea with the realisation that Amber will be at this soiree. With a sigh of defeat, I strip off my sweatpants and start dressing in the borrowed attire.
Seeing Amber is worth any humiliation B can throw at me. Granted, when I see her she’ll be playing the dutiful wife at her husband’s side, and her erstwhile brother-in-law will more-than-likely be hovering over her like an attentive gnat, but the important thing is that she’ll be there. This will be the first time I see her in the flesh since I told her to fuck off.
A decision that I’ve regretted with every breath I’ve taken since then.
“You’re ready?” B sounds disappointed to find that I’ve complied with their directions. “Come along, then. The fun’s about to begin.”
EIGHT
When we come to a stop near a white door, Harry hands me and B a masquerade mask each. He gives my companion a small smile, then glares at me. I ignore his hostility, tilting my head to the right to receive his latest set of instructions like a good boy.
“Follow her lead. When she says it’s time to leave, it’s time to leave.” Harry lets his jacket fall open deliberately. Tucked under his left arm is a holstered handgun. “If you give us any trouble, I won’t hesitate to neutralise you.”
The vein in my forehead that Amber always said was a visible barometer for my temper starts pulsing and I feel my neck warm up as my temper rises. Involuntarily the fingers on each hand curl into a fist and my common-sense screams that now is not the time to lose my cool. My daily quota for threats is about to be breached, so in the spirit of preserving my heads current position on my shoulders, I bite my tongue.
Instead, I offer Harry a one fingered salute and hold my arm out to B like a good gentleman.
“Shall we?” I echo her words from earlier.
“We shall.” She offers me a winsome smile and I can’t help but smile back. For a psychotic bitch, she really does scrub up quite well. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t appreciate her obvious charms, plumped up for display as they are in the constricting bodice of her dress.
“You look beautiful.” I tell myself that I’m playing the game by offering up an unfettered compliment. The truth is that I’m nervous about seeing Amber and I’d like to feel like I have one ally—of sorts—in there with me.
Harry clears his throat and pushes open the door in front of us. The masks are dutifully placed over our faces and we enter what would normally be a large dining hall or something similar that has been turned into a ballroom for tonight’s celebrations. It’s teeming with people in masks, although everyone seems to know each other regardless.
B and I pass through the throng without being accosted. Everywhere I look, banners and posters proclaim Centrifuge as the new wonder drug in the fight against dementia. From the centre of the ceiling, a giant syringe that appears to be filled with some type of reddish-brown liquid hangs with the word CENTRIFUGE emblazoned down its side.