“Your father has done an amazing job of keeping everything under wraps. Can you share the identity of the second victim?” The man, who had reporter stamped on his face, asked. Celine's fingers dug into her back.
“I'm sorry, but her identity is classified, as are any further details.”
Furious, Nightshade made to turn away, but Georgia clamped her to her side. “Well if you won't spill, I will. I have it straight from the Pentagon that they were sexually assaulted and tortured.”
Camera's flashed all around in a blinding storm of light. Merc shouted, “No cameras allowed. This is over, now.”
But he was no match for the bottom feeders, pressing in for more, which Georgia was more than happy to provide. “The other girl's name is Celine. She was nearly sold at a slave auction but Caroline was held the longest. She suffered the most.”
Celine's soft sobs pierced Nightshade’s conscious and she let the rage loose, flinging Georgia away. “You’re a liar. How dare you make up those lies.”
Even more cameras flashed, the murmurs rose and their little circle tightened. Celine crouched behind Merc now, who was calling for back up into his communication system. He reached to pull Nightshade behind him, but she pulled away, turning her vengeance on the spiteful woman who started the frenzy. “We were never friends. My father wouldn't waste his time talking to yours, let alone sharing sensitive information.”
Georgia gasped and put her hand over her mouth, pointing down at Nightshade's arm. “See! Look at those scars. He tied you up didn't he? The man - he had you for over a month. What else are you hiding?” A crafty gleam punctuated each filthy word she spoke about Caroline's father, a gleam emphasized by the seizure-like flashes of cameras. How dare she insinuate such disgusting things about her father or about what Caroline had been through? Forgetting she was supposed to act with quiet reserve like her sister, Nightshade sprung with hands bared for Georgia's throat. Merc swooped in and snagged her around the middle, pulling her back further from the crowd.
“You see! She's lost it, look how crazy she's acting!” Georgia's calculating look passed quickly, hid under a false front of worry.
Nightshade shoved against Merc, but he was as immobile as a brick wall. “Let me go. That bitch is gonna pay.”
“Break it up people. Party's over in here.” Hunter parted through the crowd, with Ranger and Jared flanking him. They'd each donned tuxes that did nothing to hide their lethality. Most of the guests crowding the room left immediately, but not Georgia or the reporter and a few more guests snapping shots with their cellphones. Hunter grabbed the reporter by his collar. “No reporters allowed.”
“You can't treat a member of the press this way.” The man kept snapping shots, despite the worry creeping into his once determine expression.
Hunter snatched the camera, crushed it in one hand and passed it off to Ranger with a grin. “You can talk to the Senator about reimbursement, if he doesn't sue you first for slander and trespassing.”
“But-” The man's voice faded as he was carried out of the room.
Georgia watched the scene with fascination, completely unashamed.
Nightshade struggled, “Merc, let me go.”
He squeezed his arm until she couldn't breathe or move and then said, “Jared, please escort the girl in the red dress off the premises. Make sure you get her information so that Caroline can file a police report if she chooses.”
Jared strode forward and grabbed Georgia's wrist, tugging her behind him. “You wouldn't dare. My father will hear about this!”
Merc relaxed enough for Nightshade to draw in a breath and shout, “You’re going to the pen.”
The room emptied quickly after that, leaving Nightshade alone with Merc and a shaking Celine. “Who was that woman? She was horrible.”
Nightshade put her arm around Celine. “Merc, maybe you should call Aaron.”
Merc nodded and spoke quietly into his comm. A minute later, Aaron ran into the room, his voice frantic. “What happened, honey? Are you okay?”
Celine went to him and buried her face in his chest. Aaron glared at Merc over her head and Nightshade jumped between them. “It wasn't his fault. That bitch ambushed us with a reporter in here and stirred up a huge crowd.”
“How the hell did a reporter get in?” Merc rasped out.
Aaron blanched. “I don't know. We personally checked every single person who walked through the door. If they didn't have an invite from Cotter, they didn't come in.”
“Surely Cotter wasn't dumb enough to invite the press,” Merc said.
“After that press conference? Please, he's probably thriving on it.” Nightshade muttered and glared past Aaron's shoulder, wishing Cotter would stride into the room so she could let him have it.
A glance passed between Aaron and Merc. Nightshade narrowed her eyes. They knew something and they weren't sharing. She turned to Merc first and crossed her arms. “Why exactly did my father hold that press conference?”
“You'll have to ask him.” His expression was unreadable, not giving an inch.
“Aaron, I think I want to go,” Celine said quietly.
“I don't want you going back to the hotel alone. Why don't you stay here? I'm sure we can find a spare bedroom.” Aaron glanced at Nightshade and she nodded in agreement.
“Absolutely, let me find Harriet. She'll know the perfect spot.” Nightshade bolted before Merc could follow or stop her. She zig zagged through the crowd, who instead of giving her polite nods, were flat out watching her every move. She didn't care, these weren't her people and they definitely weren't her sister's.
Caroline wouldn't hang with these phonies. She wouldn't.
Nightshade kept telling herself that all the way down the back hallway to the kitchen.
