Alice snorted. “Neither Neal nor Tony are particularly happy with it,” she observed frankly. “But you try telling Amber to do anything. She looks all sweet and pliable, but good luck getting her to comply.”
Amber looked abashed by the honest assessment and Alice cleared her throat. “I mean... you’re leaving on the boat first thing tomorrow morning, right Amber?”
“Yes,” Amber said shortly, taking a sip of her water.
Mal, following Alice’s blunt example, gathered himself. “Amber, I’d like a moment to speak with you alone, if you’re willing.”
Amber stared at him with alarmed golden eyes.
Mary squirmed. “We could get salads from the buffet...” she started to suggest politely.
“No,” Alice said flatly. “Look, no one knows what you’re up to here, or what you’ve done to Scarlet, but I’m not real excited to leave my pregnant friend in your clutches for a conversation.”
Mal protested, “I assure you—”
“Your pregnant friend?” Amber exclaimed in disgust. “Really, Alice?”
Alice still had her baleful gaze fixed on Mal. “I promised Tony I wouldn’t let you out of my sight for a second.”
“I think you could see anything that was going to go wrong from across the restaurant full of shifters,” Amber pointed out.
“I want to be in hitting distance,” Alice declared.
“I wish I were in hitting distance,” Amber muttered, glaring across the table at her.
Mary looked like she wanted to fold into her chair and die.
“It can wait,” Mal said peacefully.
Amber gave him a piercing look. “You can say anything you have to say to me in front of them,” she said firmly.
“I was sorry to miss your mother’s visit,” Mal said gently. “I would have preferred to tell her what I found out about your father in person.”
Everyone at the table stiffened and Mal steeled himself.
“My... father?” Amber said numbly, with a hand to her belly.
“If you’d prefer to...”
“What do you know about my father?” Amber demanded, bringing a fist down on the table that made all the glasses jump.
Mal kept his voice low. “You’re aware of the warlock Corbin and his... use of shifters.”
Amber’s face went white.
“Your father’s sole goal was to keep you from Corbin’s clutches,” Mal said gently. “I don’t believe he would have given you up for any other reason. My guess is that he knew he was close to capture.”
Amber was staring down at the surface of the table, taking careful breaths. Alice swore quietly. Mal was surprised by his own sympathy. He usually maintained a professional detachment from this sort of thing, but the look on Amber’s face cut deeper than it should.
“I’ve... there’s a fund set up for victims of the warlock and his—”
Amber surged to her feet, shoving her chair back hard. “Maybe it’s hard for you to understand, but money doesn’t fix everything,” she snarled at him.
Mal took her outburst without comment. “I’m sorry for your—”
“I’m not hungry,” Amber growled and she stormed as gracefully as she possibly could for the entrance to the restaurant.
Alice rose to follow her, shooting Mal a baleful look over her shoulder as she called to Amber to wait for her.