Oaths and Omissions (Monsters & Muses #3)(3)

Smoke from a Cuban swirls up around him, tangling with his neatly coiffed jet-black hair, and the navy trousers and suspenders he wears make it clear this isn’t an establishment he frequents often.

Icy blue eyes meet mine as I slide in across from him. A moment after I’m seated, a redheaded waitress named Amber puts a pint in front of me, refills Alistair’s water, and then scurries off.

“Surprised you wanted to meet here,” I say, raising my voice slightly so it’s audible over the music.

He takes a drink, balancing his cigar against the glass. “Yes, well. Figured it might be easier to come to you. No one bats an eye at the mayor visiting a seedy pub if they think he’s just being diligent.”

“But they’d question my presence at the mayor’s house, I suppose.”

“Precisely.” Placing his glass down, he sucks on the end of his cigar, inhaling deep. On the exhale, he leans forward. “And what of our dear friend, Kevin?”

“Taken care of.” I sip my beer. “Though I hope you have a better reason for wanting him gone than the possibility of someone finding out about your… trysts.”

Alistair chuckles. “My sexual preferences are no secret at this point, little brother. That I enjoy the company of a man as much as a woman is hardly the revelation you’d think.”

“The press would spin it, regardless.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt. The press just has very little influence on my decisions, is all.”

Tapping the edge of the wooden table, I blow out a breath and scan the room quickly. Booths line three of the four walls, with the bar front finishing the square. In the middle sits the dance floor, though on the days we open early, it’s just extra room for single tables.

Nothing spectacular to look at, but it’s mine.

Spend a little time in jail with nothing to your name, and the concept of property becomes incomparable.

“Surely you haven’t come here to discuss your sex life,” I say, finishing off my drink.

Slowly, he reaches into his suit and pulls out a black card.

You’re Invited to Primrose Manor is in gold, embossed lettering at the top, and he places it flat on the table.

My stomach flips, my gut twisting as I think about the last time I set foot in that house twelve years ago.

Silence stretches thin between us, and I hook my ankle over the opposite knee, waiting for him to continue. “You’re not planning on going to that, are you?”

He frowns, not moving his gaze from the card. “For the first time since they bought their estate, Tom Primrose is opening it up to the public. I’d say every major dignitary and socialite from here to Boston will be in attendance, desperate just to see inside his home.”

I don’t respond.

“It would be untoward of me not to attend. I hear the daughter is looking for a partner.” He sets the card down, something haunted lining his irises. I uncross my legs, not particularly interested in meeting his ghosts.

I have plenty of my own.

An image of Tom Primrose’s brunette puppet pops in my head, though it’s been ages since I paid attention to her in a magazine or elsewhere.

Nodding, I lift a shoulder in acknowledgment. “Better you than me.”

A strange feeling settles in my gut when Alistair doesn’t say anything more. I look down at the placard, watching as he spins it around with his index finger.

Slowly, my gaze lifts to his. He catches it and holds fast.

My nostrils flare. “No.”

His fingers drum on the table. “I wasn’t asking, Jonas.”

Then again, he rarely does. Alistair grew up traveling the world with his Scottish mum and a silver spoon lodged up his arse, and no one ever taught him manners. He takes without remorse, which I’d admire more if it wasn’t constantly being used against me.

Aplana Island, though relatively small in permanent population, has always had a very heavy and extensive presence of crime. It’s not specifically organized, but there are competing branches of underground societies that operate on the south side or in the less habitable, underdeveloped parts.

Everyone always thinks the criminal networks are exclusive to big cities, but in truth, it’s much easier to corrupt the smaller tourist towns.

Tightly knit communities are less likely to rat, and there’s far more at stake if they do.

That’s how my brother came to hold any sort of political influence in Aplana; his association with high-powered criminals might make him a lot of enemies and not the public’s biggest fan, but hijacking an election is fairly simple.

He didn’t even have to do any of it himself.

My fist comes down on top of the table, and I clench my jaw until my molars ache.

“You’re aware that the Primrose family hates me?”

Justified, some might say, considering I tried to kill the patriarch.

But he started it by killing my father.

“All of Aplana is aware, yes.” Alistair shrugs, tapping his nails on the card. “Which is exactly why no one will be expecting you.”





2





The knocking never ceases.

Someone is always standing on the other side of my closed bedroom door, rapping their knuckles raw. Desperate for a crumb of my attention, or in need of my face for a PR stunt, or a signature for some endorsement or sponsorship.