All the King's Men (The Turning Series Book 1) Page 11

  The emcee took the pulpit and introduced King to roaring praise.

  Danika used her theater skill to make it appear as if she was clapping, though it was quieter than a golf clap, smiling without showing teeth as she and Charlie watched the stage. She didn’t want to be here, swimming in the sea of sycophants with their heads up King’s ass over his campaign. “Would it be bad if I stepped out for a smoke?”

  “Yes.” Everyone called out at the same time, surprising her some, at the unison in chorus.

  “Blech…You still on that disgusting habit?” Sloane asked, though she hadn’t spotted him yet.

  Charlie, who had the super-hearing, located him right away and pointed over at the bar.

  “Did I ask for your opinion, Hyde?” Danika glared.

  “Don’t call me that.” Sloane barked, seemingly offended.

  Danika clicked her tongue. It was his persona, a self-proclaimed nickname, so why was he so ashamed of it? Carter had called him that all the time. She was still trying to figure out why Morgan decided to let him in on this op to begin with. The excuse was that he’d been a part of the case, investigating this on his own anyway, and that Morgan trusted him. Valid points, but not enough for Danika to fully agree with it. On the other hand, she wasn’t technically part of this either, so she had little pull when it came to her uncle’s decisions. There was always that one complainer who would claim it was nepotism if she made a peep and even worse if he obliged.

  “…I believe that we can band together and stay strong, for the betterment of the community, for the betterment of our children, and to prosper for years to come.”

  “I can’t believe anyone buys this drivel.” Danika quietly groaned over King’s speech, before throwing back another gulp of her champagne. It was her third glass.

  “A little louder please, they didn’t hear you in the back. And would you slow down? I might be used to your drinking habits, but any more and people might start talking.” Charlie had leaned in close to speak into her ear again, this time it made a chill trickle down her back.

  “Let ‘em.” Danika scoffed and took another sip of the bubbly, all the while keeping eye contact with her date. She turned and subtly jutted her head towards the stage. “Who is that guy anyway? On his three, in the blue suit.”

  To King’s right, there stood a man, completely still. There was a bit of a glare in the lenses of his glasses, even with the anti-reflective coating, but Danika was positive that he hadn’t blinked in a fair amount of time. He was like a statue, attentive and hanging on to King’s every word.

  “That’s Christophe Dmitri. One of King’s oldest friends and campaign manager.” Morgan answered, playing it off like he was explaining it to Olivia.

  Mr. Dmitri was a good-looking man, but he had a brooding nature, a stoicism about him, that was a little eerie. He was well-dressed, well-pampered, and his dark hair was combed back with a part on the side. His bright eyes were framed by glasses that added that a sophisticated touch for a man in a three-piece suit. He might have had a brawny build under that jacket, but it was hard to tell at this distance. Dmitri was clean shaven with a pale complexion, and a stony expression that did not change for as long as she observed him.

  “Gives me the creeps.” Danika whispered.

  “I saw him at my firm, talking to one of the senior partners, and he mentioned his employer several times. Makes sense now,” Charlie explained.

  “Yeah, so Dmitri…Not in the registry,” Frost announced. “Been trying but he’s not coming up anywhere.”

  “What do you mean?” Morgan and Danika asked almost in synch.

  Frost clicked his tongue, “Nothing. No tickets, criminal record, anything. Nothing in the database whatsoever for that name, but I’ll keep looking, crosscheck his face and see if that gives us a hit anywhere. Just be careful around him, in the event that he’s one of us. This close to King? He could be trouble.”

  Danika smirked, having done a full physical analysis of him in this time. “I dunno, Snowman, I kinda figured he’d be your type.”

  “Well, don’t you know me too well?” Frost snickered, “There’s something about him… Just watch your backs.”

  Once King had ended his speech with another rallying declaration filled with charming buzzwords to win them over, the room erupted a thunderous applause and cheers from those who bothered to listen. He was just reiterating the statements he’d made before, vows he swore to keep. The politician’s formula, or the song and dance as she’d called it. Danika hated politics.

  The chandeliers lit up once more, fully illuminating the room. The jazz trio began its new set, and couples paired off to dance. The room felt significantly lighter compared to when King was at the podium. Danika felt less on edge, as she was already on the verge of whipping up a light breeze just to cool down from the suffocating air of being around these brownnosers. It’d been a while since she’d been to anything like this, as Danika didn’t like to attend many black-tie events. Weddings, maybe, but she avoided those invitations like the plague. The few friends she did have rarely invited her to events because she was the one who ended up at the open bar, providing unwanted chatter with loud and colorful language that drove some of the guests away. Tonight, she was rather well-behaved. These stuffy old parties always weirded her out, and she just wanted everyone to take the sticks out of their asses and call it good.

  To her surprise, Charlie extended his hand to her. Danika squinted and tilted her head, hesitant to take his offer. While she had been a trained dancer, a long time had passed, since she took the floor. After a moment, she emptied the champagne flute she had with one gulp, set it down on a nearby table, and shrugged. “Ah, what the hell.” Danika placed her hand into Charlie's, and was immediately twirled into position. He had a good grip on her waist, and he gently extended their arms out to the side as he took the lead. Together, they settled in for comfort, and swayed in tempo to the song that would surely drone on for a while. Danika turned her head to sweep the room, trying to make out any people of interest around them.

  Charlie leaned in and whispered: “Hey, I know it’s pure torture, but thanks for putting on a dress—and that ring—for a couple of hours.”

  Danika gave a rather unladylike snort. “Been a couple hours too long, and the zipper itches like a bitch. But the things we do for work, eh?”

  “Yeah, like putting up with me as your date.” Charlie replied.

  “You know, sometimes I surprise myself.”

  “You look…lovely.”

  “Hesitation? Nice.”

  His eyebrows pulled together, worried she’d taken offense that was truly unintentional. “What? No—”

  “I thought you were about to say bloody ravishing, or some bullsh…nonsense like that.”

  Charlie tilted his head at her correction, and smirked. “I mean—I could have, but I thought I chose my words carefully. By the by, we don’t always say ‘bloody’ before everything, you know.”

  Danika nodded, with a smug grin. “That I do. Half, remember?” She’d revealed that bit of him the first night they met, but she’d forgive him if it slipped his mind.

  “Right. Of course.” He looked over her head somewhere to his right, but she didn’t miss his embarrassment at the callout.

  Danika found a bit of remorse for her sharp tongue, which was rather rare, as her bitchiness tended to get in the way of things. Charlie was being rather genuine with her, so she gently squeezed his shoulder to get them back into the flow of conversation. “Alright. Thank you, Charles, you don’t look so bad yourself. But…” Danika reached up to his cheek and trailed her fingers over his jawline. “It’s a black-tie event, and you can’t even shave properly?”

  He looked down as he laughed, but he did well to keep the beat as he softly squeezed her waist. “It grows in fast. I can’t keep up. I’ll blame my genetics on that one.”

  They laughed, and it was enough to break the ice. Danika noticed she’d been doing that quite a bit as of late,
too. It wasn’t a forced sort of laugh either. It was comfortable. Uplifting, even, to know that she’d finally found someone with whom to converse on such a personal level like she had with Charlie. He’d sure as hell clawed his way up from that creep who broke into her house up to a decent partner-in-crime. He was easy on the eyes too, she admitted.

  “Ahem.” When they parted, Sloane was standing next to them, his hand up-turned and offered to Danika. “May I?”

  Charlie looked over at her. There was a flicker, a brief second in his glance which showed the reluctance to let her go. In that second, she faltered. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to release him either, she wanted to stay there, engaged in the pleasant conversation they’d been having thus far. However, she couldn’t quite deny Sloane, one of her oldest friends in the ‘biz’, who went out on a limb to ask her to dance. And politely too.

  With a nod, Charlie pulled away, offering her hand directly to Sloane. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  Sloane sneered, gracefully twirling Danika into his arms. “Yeah, you do that, Charlie-boy.”

  “Sure.” Charlie narrowed his eyes at Sloane before stepping away, retreating toward the bar.

  “Really?” Danika scowled as she settled into the dance with her new partner.

  Sloane mocked her with a glare right back, his expression sour. “What? Don’t give me that look. Give me a break, I was just saving you from boredom. How is ol’ Charlie Do-gooder treating you? Did he sneak a feel? Because I will—”

  The scowl trickled off and Danika finally just smiled. Keeping up these damn appearances. I need a cigarette. “Oh, believe me I’ll kill him myself if he tries anything stupid like that. I think he knows better. Besides, that sounds more like something you would do, Sloane.”

  “True.” He chuckled. Sloane’s piercing blue eyes followed to where Charlie had wandered, and he nodded his head in his direction. “What’s your take on him?”

  “Oooh, suspicious, are we?” Danika raised an eyebrow. “You barely met him and you’re playing the territorial card?”

  He cocked his head back for a second and groaned. “I’m just looking out for you, Dani.”

  “Good to know you got my back, even when I didn’t need it or ask for it.” Danika had dealt with Sloane the Snoop for years, as he’d butted into her love life unsolicited. She searched his blue eyes, so cold in their natural state. From what she could tell he was irritated just being here, let alone being patronized by an old partner.

  Danika caught sight of where Charlie had wandered off to and shrugged, “I know that he can probably hear what we’re saying right now.”

  Charlie just grinned from his post across the room, beside Morgan. The two were sharing a drink, as Olivia had stepped away for a moment.

  Danika shrugged as she danced with him, but she was trying not to press too close. It felt more like they were awkward pre-teens at a junior high dance than a couple pairing off at a swanky, upscale gala. It wasn’t like what she had going with Charlie, as she was repulsed by Sloane and his I-think-I’m-God’s-gift-to-women demeanor. After a few measures, she cut the silence. “Morgan likes him. The rest of the team likes him.”

  “Mm… yeah, but what do you think?” He pressed,

  “Did you really cut in for a goddamn confession, Sloane? What, are you jealous or something?” Danika asked, being borderline facetious. The pair never did see eye to eye, especially when it came to relationships, so it was odd that he was trying to play a white knight for her. “Like I said, you don’t know him. Why are you so damn worried?”

  Sloane looked over his shoulder, annoyed they couldn’t have any private conversation without Charlie listening in. He twirled Danika toward the stage, putting more shuffling footsteps, chatting crowd, and music between them. He hoped this would be enough to separate himself from the eavesdropping, but just in case, he snapped his fingers beside them.

  “The hell?” Danika gasped.

  “Not much time, so let me explain.” Sloane’s blue orbs flashed a brilliant red for a moment. With that snap, he instantly locked them inside a small cone of silence, for privacy. To anyone watching, nothing changed but they both knew that if they danced in the same few squares, they wouldn’t have to worry about being heard. “I don’t trust the guy, so I want you to be careful.”

  “Did you just cast—”

  “Shh, darling. Shh.” He gently put his finger to her lips.

  Danika wanted to bite his finger, and not in a pleasurable way. However, since it would cause a scene, she showed her self-control, though not without a sigh and eye-roll. She placed her arms around his neck subtly applying pressure to one of the tender spots on his tense muscles. “Call me darling one more time—”

  He grunted softly, forcing a smile, though the words that came out didn’t match his expression. “Dani, listen to me. Just because Mr. Well-Off-Goodie-Two-Shoes-Lawyer looks great on paper and for your uncle’s cause doesn’t mean you have to buy into it. You don’t seem to know much about him at all, and Morgan decides to put him in an op like this? Already? Dig deeper. We gotta figure out his MO and what he’s up to.”

  “We?” Danika huffed. Just like she wasn’t likely to continuously maintain a post with the Alliance, Sloane emerges after two years and makes a bold call like the gang was back together again.

  Sloane rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself. But I’m going to—”

  Charlie cleared his throat, appearing beside them after their last twirl, and Danika pulled away from Sloane. She didn’t want to touch him any longer than she had to, so she took Charlie’s arm as it was offered.

  “As I was saying, there are plenty of cougars better suited to your liking, Mr. Sloane. Don’t let me stop you.” She said coldly, knowing Sloane had an affinity for older women. It was the best she could come up with to cover up what they were discussing before.

  “Thanks for the dance, Dani.” Sloane smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes; his sharp blues would have captivated most, even as they narrowed at her snide remark. “Charles.”

  As Sloane strolled away, Charlie and Danika walked in the other direction. She was aiming for the bar or one of the catering staff to grab some more champagne.

  “Haven’t you had enough, dear?” Charlie flexed his bicep to give her arm a faint squeeze.

  Squeezing back, Danika felt the heel of her shoe snag on the plush carpet surrounding the dance floor and nearly fell, but Charlie was there to keep her upright. “Well if I hadn’t been expressly forbidden to partake in something harder… they should at least keep the champagne filled to the brim. I mean five-hundred a damn head and they’re that stingy? What the hell?”

  Charlie simply laughed, but pulled a couple of glasses from the next passing waiter he saw, offering her one of them. Danika made a pleased aha sound as she took it, and raised it towards Sloane when she spotted him again. He watched them from his table, the stoic loner now humbly nursing a gin and tonic.

  “Councilman King. It’s an honor to finally meet you.” Charlie extended his hand, and King accepted after a second of consideration.

  Alton King was taller, larger, and more domineering in person than Danika could ever have imagined. He had at least a foot and a half on her, possibly a half a foot above Charlie. Danika could hardly stand to look this devil in the eye, but she forced herself for cover’s sake. Based on her research, King was in his late fifties, even though he didn’t look a day over forty-two. She was familiar with what the age looked like—it was how old her father had been when he’d passed away. The councilman was Caucasian, but his skin was almost bronze (something Danika assumed as fake for presentation sake), and it contrasted against his stark white suit. He was a bald man with amber eyes, accented with pronounced crow’s feet from the wear of time.

  “Likewise. Who knew the son of Tom and Jolene Matthews would be next in line to become partner at the most prestigious firm in town?” He spoke in an eloquent baritone, a hint of rasp from years of cigar smoking, tha
t gave his voice a confident edge.

  “Certainly not me,” Charlie laughed, and King joined in chorus, acknowledging him for his modesty. “It’s been a dream.”

  “Wonderful.” King showed the row of his pearly white teeth when he smiled.

  “My father speaks highly of you, sir. He brings up your football days together constantly. I told him I’d be here tonight, and he wanted me to send all his support, some early congratulations on your campaign, even.” Charlie added, flooring Danika with the amount of babble he could pull on the fly.

  King gave a deep laugh at the comment and shook his head, “Those were the days. Tell him thank you, and I’m sure I’ll be speaking with him and your mother soon.”

  Danika thought there was an odd tone to that statement. Perhaps it was King’s expression when he said it, more likely that she disliked anything King said in general—but knowing the Matthews were apparently friends of his, she would let it slide.

  “Oh yes, my apologies. I’d like you to meet my wife Rose.” King presented his wife proudly, bringing his arm around her waist to pull her close. Those perfect white teeth shone again, but all Danika could see were fangs.

  Charlie offered his hand again, palm turned upward. “Charles Matthews.”

  Primrose King had brilliant red hair that glowed against her fair skin. Her body was exquisite in her black and white dress, and her gray eyes added a mysterious allure to her model-like features. Her bone structure was naturally manufactured too, nice brow line, jaw and high cheek bones, which made Danika want to gag. She was the poster girl for trophy wife.

  Rose extended her hand to Charlie. “A pleasure.”