14
Mercy
“Don’t you like it?”Anthea said.
I realized I’d been frowning as I stared at myself in the mirror, examining the flowing turquoise dress she’d lent me. It clung to my curves, but not so tightly or exposing so much skin that it’d look out of place at an elegant gala, and it complemented my dark hair just like Anthea had said it would.
But I hadn’t gotten dressed up like this since the guys had fully accepted me—since I’d come into my own as queen of the Claws—and I’d forgotten one thing I now took for granted.
“It’s gorgeous,” I said. “I just feel kind of naked without a gun. And there’s nowhere to tuck one away wearing something like this, is there?” I motioned to my back where I’d normally have shoved my pistol into the waist of my jeans or sweats.
Anthea snapped her fingers. “I have just the solution for that.” She went to the closet and popped open one of the built-in drawers. When she turned back to me, she was holding a gun no longer than her palm, bubblegum pink in color. She raised her eyebrows. “This is what ‘proper’ ladies carry in their purses.”
I took it from her and turned it over in my hands, unable to hold back a snort. It was a third of the size of my usual pistol. “It’s very cute.”
“I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’ll get the job done,” Anthea said. “A bullet between the eyes will still do the trick just fine, no matter how big a gun was shooting it. Hopefully you won’t run into that kind of trouble at this fancy fundraiser, though.”
I swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”
Just the thought of being around all those posh businesspeople made my chest clench up. It wasn’t likely they’d start firing shots, but they had their own ways of going on the attack that I had no experience with at all. It was so far from my scene, I might as well be traveling to Fiji.
I tucked the gun into the purse Anthea had also lent me and stepped into the stilettos that completed the look. Anthea stepped back to take in the full picture and nodded with satisfaction. “You look beautiful. You’ll fit right in. Now go get those rich bastards.”
I had to laugh, her enthusiasm loosening a little of the tension inside me. “Thank you. I’ll do that.”
Rowan was waiting outside by the car we were taking. He’d exchanged his usual silver Toyota for a sleek black convertible, and he’d upgraded his own look too. He always dressed pretty snappy these days, but this was a completely new level. His dark tailored suit and crisp white shirt fit him perfectly, and he’d slicked back the spikes of his blond hair with gel. I stopped in my tracks, drinking the image in.
I liked his usual boy-next-door vibe, but there was no denying that he looked particularly delicious right now. And definitely not as a boy but a man.
“Wow,” he said, giving me a similar onceover and then a soft smile. “You look fantastic. I’ll be beating guys off with a stick.”
Another laugh spilled out of me. “Then you’ll have to lend me the stick after so I can beat off the women who’ll be drooling over you. Come on, let’s get going.” It was early in the morning still, but we had a long drive ahead of us. The gala was happening two states away.
Rowan took my hand as if I really were some kind of lady and led me around to the front passenger seat. As my fingers twined with his, I couldn’t help admiring his profile too. He’d grown up so much, and for the better, I thought, even if he wasn’t always so sure of that. He’d become even more confident and passionate, ready to fight for the people he cared about.
A swell of affection filled my chest. I had the urge to kiss him hard—I would have if it wouldn’t have ruined the lipstick Anthea had painstakingly applied.
Had I ever really stopped loving Rowan? I wasn’t sure. Underneath the anger and the sense of betrayal, I’d still held a candle for the first guy who’d ever won my heart. Now, the rush of feelings swept all the words out of me.
I’d told Wylder and Gideon I loved them. I should say it to Rowan too. But this didn’t feel like the time, not when we were practically playing dress-up. I didn’t want him to think I was only caught up in the moment or that I preferred him this way.
I’d tell him later, when we were back to our regular selves, because it’d be just as true then.
Rowan waited until he was sure I’d gotten my skirt out of the way before shutting the door for me, all gentleman-like. He got in on the driver’s side but didn’t start the engine right away.
“I wanted to show you something,” he said. “I figured why not now, since we’ll have a lot of time to kill.”
My curiosity was instantly piqued. “What?”
He reached to the back seat and handed me a sketchbook. “I’ve been getting back into old habits over the past week or so. I thought you might like seeing the results.”
He’d been drawing again? “Yes, of course,” I said, my heart lifting. As far as I knew, Rowan hadn’t done much drawing at all since he’d gotten involved with the Nobles. He’d told me that he didn’t feel he deserved to have art in his life. I hadn’t agreed with him then, and I was relieved to hear he’d changed his mind too.
As he drove down the driveway and onto the street, I flipped open the sketchbook. I lingered on each page, taking in every detail of the lines of pencil before turning to the next.
He’d started with random objects around the house, it looked like. There was a fruit bowl from the kitchen, a sitting room with armchairs and side tables drawn with every carved flourish in the wood, even a sketch of Wylder’s Mustang in the garage. They all looked so real I could almost believe they’d spring right off the page. I ran my fingers over them, careful not to smudge the pencil lines. “Wow. You’re really getting back into it, huh?”
Rowan looked abashed. “Just a little. It’s felt good, exercising those old muscles again. And there’s been lots of inspiration for me to use.”