Shadow of a Doubt (Tangled Ivy Book 2) (21 page)

He looked so forlorn, like a kid desperate to go to the fair. “What
kind of convention?”
Lord, please don’t let it be one of those ones where people dress up—

“Comic book,” he said, confirming my fears.

I winced. “You’re not going to dress up, are you?”

He looked so guilty, I knew I’d caught him.

I made a frustrated sound. I knew Devon had said to stay here, but the guy looked like I’d just drowned his cat. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to pop over to whatever this thing was for a short time. “Okay, fine. We’ll go, but just for a little while. Get in here so I can dry my hair.”

He hustled past me into the room, and I made quick work of my hair and makeup. I threw on a pair of skinny khaki pants and a deep burgundy blouse, pulling on a pair of brown leather boots before grabbing my purse.

“Okay, let’s go,” I said. “But don’t try to ditch me, got it?”

“Got it.”

The convention really was only three blocks away and there were plenty of people in costume as we got closer. I tried not to stare but some of the costumes were downright risqué and chilly, I would think, for this time of year.

“You have to have tickets or something for this?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, but don’t worry. They know me so I can get you in. I wrote the software for their website’s ticketing and ordering system.”

Lovely.

The registration desk was being manned by two people who’d gone all-out on their costumes, complete with real leather and tattoos that I couldn’t tell were temporary or permanent.

“Reggie! Hey, good to see you!” one of them said, smiling and shaking Reggie’s hand. “We didn’t know if you were gonna show or not. You missed opening ceremonies last night.”

“Yeah, I was working. Kinda lost track of time,” Reggie said. “I have a friend with me today, but she doesn’t have a ticket. Is that going to be a problem?”

The man’s eyes flicked over to me, widening slightly, then he shook his head. “Not for you, it’s not. She’s got a cool costume, though. Crossplay is so in right now. Have fun!”

Reggie snagged two badges, slipping one over his head and handing me the other as he pulled me away from the table.

I looked down at my clothes. “Reggie, what was he talking about?” I asked. “I’m not wearing a costume.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, already hurrying ahead to where masses of people were clustering. I had no choice but to keep up with him.

We spent the next hour wandering through various booths selling everything you could possibly imagine, and some that I couldn’t even tell what they were supposed to be. Reggie seemed to be having a ball, and I’d gotten a few more compliments on my non-costume. I’d just smiled and said thanks.

I was looking through a collection of famous sci-fi actors’ autographs when I realized Reggie and I had gotten separated. Crap. That wouldn’t do.

I’d last seen him by a display of samurai swords, so that’s where I headed. To my relief, I spotted him talking to a couple of men and headed his way.

“. . . figured you’d be all decked out, Reg,” one of them was taunting as I approached. He was smiling at Reggie, but it was the kind of smile I’d seen a lot and usually directed at me. A sneering sort of smile that appeared friendly, but wasn’t. Instantly, I was on alert.

“Yeah, well, I, ah, I’m not staying long,” Reggie stammered a reply.

“Somebody’s gotta play those video games, right?” the other guy jeered, not even pretending to be nice.

My eyes narrowed. What shits. Reggie had his hands shoved into his pockets and looked for all the world like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. While the two guys just looked like snakes, enjoying making him squirm.

Well. We’d see about that.

I tossed back my hair and put a model strut in my step as I walked up to Reggie. I slid my arm over his shoulders and put on my fake French accent.

“Reggie,” I purred, “I could not find you. Why did you leave me?” I added a pout for effect.

Reggie seemed utterly taken aback, so I kept talking.

“I see something I want. Will you buy it for me? We can play with it later.” I gave him a come-hither smile and leaned to put my lips by his ear. “Play along. I’m your girlfriend,” I whispered.

To his credit, he caught on fast, slipping an arm around my waist. “Uh, yeah, absolutely. You bet.”

Not exactly Lord Byron, but it would do. I glanced at the two men who stood staring at us, jaws agape.

“Who are you?” I asked, putting as much French haughtiness into the question as I could muster.

“We, uh, we’re . . . friends of Reggie’s,” the first guy said. The second guy just swallowed, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing up and down. “I’m Ryan, and this is Dale. And you are?”

“I am Ivy,” I replied, raising an eyebrow as I turned to Reggie. “Is this true?” I asked him. “Are these two . . . men . . . friends of yours?”

“Um, yeah, I guess. Well, not really,” he said.

“I did not think so.” I put every ounce of disdain I had into my voice as I looked both men up and down before turning back to Reggie. I was pressed against his side with both arms wrapped around his neck. “Let’s go,” I pleaded. “I want to go back to the hotel and be with you.”

One of the guys, maybe Dale, made a strangled sort of sound, but I ignored him.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Reggie said, and his voice was much stronger now than it had been before. “Gotta go guys. Catch ya later.”

We walked away and it wasn’t until we were back on the street that Reggie let go of the death grip he had around my waist.

“Oh my God!” he said, bursting out laughing. “Did you see the look on their faces?”

“Yeah,” I said, chuckling. “What a couple of jerks.”

“Hey, Ivy, thanks,” he said, stopping and facing me. “That was . . . that was awesome. Seriously.”

I shrugged, my cheeks heating. “No problem. We’re friends, right?”

“Absolutely,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Our good moods lasted until we entered the hotel room. Devon was there, pacing, and when he saw us, the look on his face made me take an instinctive step back.

“I told you to wait here,” he gritted out, pointing down at the floor. “Where the bloody hell have you been?” He was looking at me as he said this, not Reggie.

“Um, let me handle this,” I said in an undertone to Reggie, pushing him through the connecting door into his room and closing it behind him. “I can explain,” I said to Devon.

“You damn well better,” he shot back. “After all my precautions, I thought they’d found you, taken you.” Without any warning, he picked up a porcelain vase from the bureau and threw it. It hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces. I gasped in dismay, my hand flying up to cover my mouth.

Everything was quiet after that, only the sound of Devon’s breathing audible in the room. I wasn’t afraid, but this was the most emotion I’d ever seen from him and I wasn’t sure how best to
handle it. He was angry, yes. But he was angry because he’d been worried. Because he’d thought he’d failed.

I went to him, standing in front of him. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the floor and his hands were in fists at his sides.

“Devon,” I said softly, covering his hands with mine. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to worry. I swear to you. Reggie just needed a little diversion for a while. If I’d known you’d get this worried and upset, I never would have gone.”

Raising his eyes, his gaze met mine. We stood like that for a moment and I could almost feel the anger ebb from him. He was studying me intently, his forehead creased as his blue eyes gazed into mine. After a moment, he spoke. “When Kira was murdered, I was . . . devastated. I hadn’t protected her. She’d died because of me. The pain and guilt were . . . overwhelming.”

Devon unbuttoned his shirt a few buttons and pointed to a bullet wound scar on his chest. “This was the result.”

I frowned in confusion.

“I was reckless. Too reckless. Perhaps I had a death wish, but was too much of a coward to do it myself. I felt I should pay, atone for what I’d done to her. And when it happened, when I was shot, I felt like pain was bleeding out of me.”

“What happened?” I asked. “Obviously you survived.”

“I had to decide I wanted to,” he replied. Reaching up, he brushed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. “But I’ve lived with the guilt of failing her. And I’m terrified of failing you.”

I shook my head, my gaze dropping from his. Now I felt even worse for leaving the room. “You could never fail me, Devon,” I said. His fingers brushed underneath my chin, tipping my head up until I looked at him again.

“Don’t say that,” he said. “Everyone fails everyone else. Always. It’s the one constant that can be depended on.”

It was a cynical thing to say, but then again, Devon lived in a world I’d only had the briefest exposure to. The guilt he carried from Kira’s death had marked him as deeply as Jace’s abuse had marked me.

“Our flight’s in three hours,” he said. “We need to pack up. Get your new best friend to pack up, too.” I knew he was referring to Reggie, and by his tone I knew he’d forgiven us. I hurried to tell Reggie all was okay and that we were leaving.

Between last night and today, everything Devon had done and said had been so unexpected as to leave me reeling. I was overwhelmed with relief that things were changing between us, and suddenly, things didn’t seem as horrible as they had yesterday.

I changed into a peach blouse that crossed over my torso and wrapped around my back. A tie held the filmy lengths of fabric together and, combined with my skinny jeans and nude heels that wrapped up around my ankles, I felt more put-together—inside and out—than I had in a long time.

As usual, Devon dressed in a suit. This one, a dark charcoal with tiny pinstripes. A stark white shirt and striped silk tie completed what I’d come to think of as his spy uniform. He finished the knot on his tie, then rapped on the door to Reggie’s room.

Reggie was ready to go, so within our allotted hour, we were heading to the airport. As soon as we got to the ticket desk and Devon asked for three first-class tickets to Amsterdam, I knew we had a problem.

“I don’t have my passport,” I whispered to him as the agent tapped the keys on her keyboard.

“Don’t be silly, darling,” he replied, reaching inside his jacket. “What did you think I was doing this morning?” He handed the woman two passports. “Mr. and Mrs. Jared Ross, if you please.”

My mouth dropped open, then I quickly closed it, averting my
face so the agent wouldn’t see my surprise. It was the name he’d given Logan last December when he’d crashed dinner.

Once Devon had handed over his credit card, the agent took our bags, handed us boarding passes, and told us which gate we were departing from. I’d heard the prices she’d said for the three last-minute tickets and had wanted to groan in dismay. The total cost more than some small cars. Reggie popped into a shop to get something to eat and Devon and I paused outside to wait for him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jared Ross?” I asked.

“Easier this way,” Devon said. “I’m Jared. You are—”

“Yes, do tell me my new name,” I teased. “This should be good.”

Devon faced me fully. “I would think it would be obvious,” he said. “You’re Rose, of course.”

My teasing grin faded. His gaze roamed over my face and he lifted a hand to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin. “I’d quote Shakespeare,” he said, “if it wouldn’t be so cliché.”

I smiled, but was too caught up in how he was looking at me to reply. People passed us by but neither of us noticed. His hand drifted down my arm to my hand, slotting our fingers together.

“You sure you guys don’t want anything? The cinnamon buns are awesome.” Reggie was back and Devon glanced at him. He was chowing down on a pastry dripping with icing.

“Maybe later,” Devon said with distaste. I huffed a laugh at the snooty Britishness he was displaying, but quickly smothered it when he slanted a glance my way.

Getting through security wasn’t a problem, and soon we were ensconced in our first-class seats. Our flight went through Detroit and the entire trip took over twelve hours. I tried to sleep as much as possible, but was still exhausted when our plane landed early in the afternoon the next day in Amsterdam.

The lines at customs were long and I followed Devon as he led me to one. He handed me my passport.

“Just tell them you’re here on holiday,” he said in an undertone. “For a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” I repeated, thinking of how I’d only asked off work for a few days.

But Devon didn’t respond because it was our turn. The agent took Devon’s passport first and carefully studied the photo, then him. He asked a few questions and Devon answered, looking tired and bored.

“Enjoy your stay,” the agent said, dismissing him and gesturing for me to step forward. I handed him my passport.

He looked me over even more carefully, then consulted his computer screen. My palms were sweating as I waited, then my worst fears came true as he said, “I’m afraid we need to ask you some additional questions.” He motioned to a security guard.

“What? What does that mean?” I asked, trying not to panic.

“Miss, please come with me,” the guard said. He was tall, and wide, and had a serious-looking gun attached to his hip.

“But I’m here on holiday,” I said, echoing what Devon had told me to say. “I haven’t done anything.” Looking frantically past them for Devon, I saw he was trying to come back to me, but a guard was arguing with him.

“This way, miss,” the guard said, taking a firm grip on my arm.

“I need my passport,” I said, reaching out to take it from the customs agent, but he held it beyond my reach.

“You’ll get your passport back shortly,” he said.

The guard was already dragging me away and I looked to Devon. He’d stopped arguing with the agent and now stared after me, a grim look on his face. Reggie stood a few feet behind him, also watching me.

Then they were both lost to sight as we turned a corner and the guard punched in a code to unlock a door. After taking me through the door and down a sterile hallway, he unlocked another
door in the same manner, but held it open for me to precede him. I did, then spun around in dismay when the door slammed shut behind me.