Hunter

The seasonal celebrations thrown by each of the four most powerful families in Sector One were as different as their hosts. Estela Reyes had always preferred a more formal occasion, which was why Hunter was sipping champagne, making small talk, and resisting the urge to tug on the bow tie constricting his airway.

He was the only one of the Riders who seemed to be suffering. Reyes looked as comfortable as ever, as if he didn’t even feel like his range of movement was severely limited in a tuxedo. Gabe looked his usual level of broody. And Zeke, the traitor, even though he’d fought the idea of being custom-fitted for something so stuffy and expensive, was actually enjoying himself.

All the minor heiresses giggling at him from behind their fans probably didn’t hurt.

Hunter sincerely missed the days when he was too young to officially attend the ball. He and Reyes and Gabe would sneak down from their rooms while the servants were busy setting up and hide beneath the buffet tables. They’d spend the entire evening under there, sneaking treats and peeking out to watch for hints of scandal at the edges of the ballroom.

Reyes grinned and lifted the edge of one pristine white tablecloth with his heel. “I think you can still fit, if you want to give it a go. I’ll cover for you.”

“Shut up,” Hunter grumbled.

Reyes saluted him with a fresh glass of champagne, only to have it plucked from his hand by Deacon. He didn’t look uncomfortable in his formal clothes, either. In fact, he didn’t look any different than usual. He was just like Ashwin and Lucio--he wore the tuxedo like a uniform or tactical fatigues.

Like he was still a soldier, even in this stuffy, restrictive getup.

Deacon eyed the crowd with a frown. “Anything?”

“Not a peep.” So far, all of Hunter’s best intelligence-gathering efforts had come to nothing. If anyone at the house party was responsible for hiring the Suicide Kings, they were keeping the information close enough to avoid even hints of gossip. “No chatter about anyone’s liquid assets or spending habits changing. Just the usual--who’s sleeping together, who’s not sleeping together. Who drinks too much.”

“If we get lucky,” Reyes observed, “that last one will help us out tonight. Champagne does tend to loosen tongues.”

And inhibitions. Hunter lowered his voice. “There was one situation. A personal one.”

Zeke glanced at Gabe and raised both brows in a prompt so unsubtle, Gabe sighed. “My brother got drunk and pushy with Maricela, and he and Ivan scrapped.”

Deacon’s frown deepened. “He did what?”

“Said some dumb shit. Tried to talk her into marrying him, I guess. The maid who was with them told me he grabbed Maricela’s arm to keep her from leaving, and Ivan threw him out of the room and into a wall. Then they...exchanged words.” Gabe’s grip on his champagne flute tightened until Hunter half-expected the delicate stem to snap. “I don’t know what’s going on. None of that is like him.”

Reyes rubbed his shoulder. “It’s just the pressure. It gets to everyone sometimes. He’ll be all right.”

Hunter hoped it was true. Javier had often joined their close-knit group as a youngster. He was witty and fun, and as one of the youngest children of the family, he’d grown up carefree and wild. His only responsibility was to marry well one day, making some fine connections for his family in the process.

But then, one by one, his older brothers had scattered. John married Isabela, effectively becoming part of the Rios family. Martin had died in a riding accident, and Gabe had joined the Riders, and pretty soon only Javier was left to carry on the family business and secure their legacy.

It was enough to make anyone a little nuts.

The band started playing, and the crowd turned in unison to the wide staircase that dominated the foyer. Their hosts came down first, and Hunter stifled a smile when Reyes threw his mother a lazy salute.

Gideon was next--alone and unsmiling, nodding instead of waving to the gathered guests. Isabela and her family followed, and Hunter spared a wink for his sister as she accompanied her wives and husbands past him, into the crowd.

A handful of gasps and murmurs drew his attention back to the top of the stairs. Ivan stood there stiffly, with Maricela on his arm. Her strapless dress was sewn with crystals on the bodice, completely covering the fabric around the top but slowly thinning in number as the white satin flowed into a full skirt. The crystals caught the light as she moved, and half the crowd broke into applause.

Laurel appeared out of nowhere, nudging past Hunter to steal Zeke’s glass of champagne. “No offense, but the rich people in this sector are weird.”

“Rich people are weird, full stop,” Zeke retorted, snagging another glass from a passing server. “That’s what happens when you don’t have to spend your time worrying about how you’re gonna eat every day. You get weird.”

The temple acolytes began to make their entrances, and Hunter turned to Laurel. “Any luck with the lost heir last night?”

“Nope. The guy was stone cold.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’m not his type.”

“I’m taking a run at him next,” Ana murmured, stepping up next to Deacon. “If he won’t flirt with me, I say we send Zeke.”

“Better to send one of these louts,” Zeke said, jabbing his thumb toward Reyes, Gabe, and Hunter. “You know, someone whose family can buy half a sector.”

Reyes slapped his hand away. “I already took a shot. He kept steering the conversation around to Maricela. I’d say he’s a man on a mission.”

“Is there anyone here who doesn’t want to marry her?” Laurel asked.

“Marry a Rios,” Hunter corrected.

“Huh?”

“They all want to marry a Rios.” He shrugged. “I don’t think they much care which one it is.”

“Charming.”

“Oh. Oh.” Reyes stared past them at the staircase. “Oh, there is a God.”

Grace was coming down. Instead of her usual ponytail, she’d curled her hair to tumble down over her mostly bare shoulders, and her dress was made of thin, clingy silk, the kind of thing that danced back and forth across the border between sweet and scandalous.

Zeke’s mouth fell open.

“Yeah.” Ana couldn’t hide her laughter. “She looks like that, and she made the damn dress in, like, two hours this morning. After making Maricela’s and Nita’s. She’ll have to beat Gabe’s cousins off with a bat.”

Reyes groaned. “Please don’t talk about beating off right now.”

Zeke flushed and jammed an elbow into Reyes’s side. “Shut your foul fucking mouth. That’s Jaden’s baby sister.”

“Hmm. Sister, yes. Baby? No.” Laurel shook her head. “That is a grown-up goddamn woman.”

“Laurel.”

Reyes leaned over Zeke’s shoulder. “So, hey. Are you gonna...? I mean, I figure you’ve got dibs and all, but if you’re not gonna, then I’m definitely gonna.”

Zeke had turned an alarming shade of red, and Ana took pity on him. “Don’t worry, Grace is too smart to fall for Reyes. Plus, if he annoys her, she’ll tell Nita, Nita will tell me, I’ll tell Ashwin, and Ashwin will break so many parts of him, he won’t be able to make jerk-off jokes for a month.”

Reyes snorted. “Frankly, I think you’re underestimating me--on many counts--but whatever.”

The music changed as Nita appeared on the second-floor landing. If Grace really had made her dress, then Ana was right--the families who dealt in textiles and clothing would be eager to fold Grace’s skills into their businesses. The dress was deep purple, with a jeweled bodice that hugged Nita’s breasts and a voluminous skirt that seemed to be made of miles and miles of floating fabric.

She looked beautiful. She always did. But the smile on her lips as she gazed down at the partygoers sent a chill sliding up Hunter’s spine.

At one time, they’d been close. Not exactly friends, maybe, but close enough for him to look at her and know whether she was happy or sad, amused or horrified, no matter how well she’d schooled her expression into a polite mask. But her masks had gotten better over the years, and now not even he could see through them.

She descended the stairs like she was floating, her back straight, her smile fixed. As her gaze drifted across the crowd, it clashed momentarily with his. He raised his glass in a silent toast, and something softened in her eyes. She inclined her head to him in the tiniest of gestures.

“Damn, Reyes,” Ana murmured. “If you want to talk about hot sisters...”

“Hey, you’d be lucky.”

“Nita is a sweetheart,” Zeke said loftily. “And I, for one, am not going to make lewd comments about her amazing rack just because her brother’s a fuckhead.”

Reyes grabbed his head and planted a smacking kiss on his cheek.

“You guys are impossible.” Ana brushed her fingers lightly over Deacon’s, a gesture so subtle most of the others missed it. “I’m going to go work the room. C’mon, Laurel.”

“Later, boys.” Laurel paused long enough to step on Reyes’s foot and wink at him as she walked past.

He winced. “Wicked, wicked woman.”

Gabe turned silently, his gaze following Laurel as she sauntered away. He wasn’t being subtle--not to anyone who knew him the way Hunter did--but he was being way too subtle to catch Laurel’s attention.

He sidled up to Gabe. “You could go with her, you know.”

Gabe started and whipped his head back around. “No, I need to focus on the job. Figure out what’s going on with my brother.”

From where Hunter stood, Javier’s problem was the same as everyone else’s--he couldn’t pin Maricela down long enough to plead his case for matrimony. He only hoped she was outmaneuvering them on purpose, playing the game better than they ever had. For her own sake.

But Gabe’s genuine worry tugged at him, and he wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Come on, then,” he urged. “Let’s get to work.”