escaped her lips.
Nadia batted her eyelashes at him and made her way to the couch, making sure to look unsteady on her feet before collapsing ungracefully into the middle seat. Despite her smile and the giggle, her heart was fluttering like a trapped bird in her chest.
“Are you drunk?” Mosely asked incredulously.
Nadia giggled again, though this time the sound was a little more forced. She’d never been truly drunk in her life, but she’d seen enough people overindulge to feel like she had a handle on how to act. The more out of her mind she could make herself seem, the less likely Mosely would be able to see through her lies. At least, that was the theory.
“I might have had a little too much wine with lunch,” she said, licking her lips absently like she could still taste it. “I just wanted to … settle my nerves a bit before we talked.”
Mosely stalked over to the nearest chair, sitting on its very edge and glaring at her. “And why did you feel the need to do that?”
She arched an eyebrow. “You need to ask after our last meeting?”
He pushed to his feet, giving her a look of contempt. At least her impersonation of a drunken idiot seemed to be convincing. All she had to do was hope he’d buy the rest of the act.
“I’ll come back after you’ve had a chance to sober up,” he said. “Might I suggest a large quantity of black coffee?”
“Don’t you want to know what Nate told me about his trip to the Basement last night?” she asked, blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
Mosely gave her one of his creepy stares, one that made her feel as if he could see right through her. If her head weren’t so cloudy with alcohol, she might have wilted, or at least looked nervous. Instead, she gave him a coy smile and hoped he wouldn’t insist on coming back later. Seeing him once in a day was more than enough already.
“So he actually told you something useful?” Mosely asked, and she couldn’t blame him for the skepticism in his voice. Up until now, she hadn’t exactly been a very effective spy.
“If he hadn’t, I would have at least tried to convey the information in a phone call rather than meeting with you personally.” She let a bit of her usually well-controlled resentment creep into her voice. “After the things you’ve threatened, I’d do anything I can to keep you as far away from me as possible.” She feigned a gasp, reaching up and covering her mouth with her hand as if the words had just slipped out. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to say that. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that wine.”
Nadia feared her act was completely transparent, but Mosely resumed his seat, watching her with an expression that would have frozen her marrow if she didn’t have enough alcohol running through her veins to keep her warm. Maybe she’d had a little more liqueur than she realized, because she felt uncommonly brave.
“Tell me what Nathaniel told you about his trip to the Basement last night,” Mosely demanded.
Nadia clasped her hands together in her lap and stared at them, tensing up her shoulder and neck muscles so she looked like she was internally resisting what she was about to say. She even started and stopped a couple of times before she began to speak, as if, even with the alcohol, it was taking all her willpower to get up the nerve to tell him what she’d heard.
“Nate went to the Basement last night. Went to a club called Angel’s.” Nadia frowned, realizing Nate had never told her why he’d gone to that particular club, although it was obvious that last night hadn’t been his only trip there. “I’m not sure why he was looking for Bishop there—I didn’t think to ask him, and he didn’t say. But anyway, he told me he was asking questions, trying to find someone who knew where Bishop was or who would take a message to him.”
Mosely was watching her with such intensity that Nadia had to fight the urge to examine her clothing and make sure she didn’t have a button gaping open or something. His face was almost perfectly expressionless except for the severity in his eyes, and he sat so still Nadia wondered if he was even breathing. The pressure of his scrutiny tightened her throat, and she squeezed her hands together more tightly in her lap.
“Nate told me he bribed someone to set up a meeting between him and the club’s owner, but apparently she didn’t like him asking questions in her club. When he wouldn’t stop, she lured him into a back room, then had her bouncers beat him up and rob him.” She was trying her best to keep her voice level, to keep the pace of her narrative smooth and uninterrupted so there would be no discernible change between her tone when she was telling the truth and her tone when she was lying. She couldn’t tell from Mosely’s closed-off expression whether she was having any success or not.
“They stole his locket,” she said. “That’s where I’d put the tracker.”
“And why would they do a thing like that?” Mosely asked. His face stayed expressionless, but there was a hint of something, maybe anger, in his voice.
She frowned at him as if completely puzzled by his question. “It was solid gold, and antique at that. Why
Mosely’s eyes bored into her. “Very
Nadia had drunk the liqueur in hopes it would give Mosely an alternative explanation for any inconsistencies in her story or awkwardness in its delivery, but she was now glad for its soothing warmth in her belly, and for its ability to keep her adrenaline from going wild. Even so, fear chilled her from the inside out. If Mosely thought she was lying to him, or thought she had arranged for the tracker to be stolen …
She shook her head, both to shake off her fears and in response to Mosely’s question. “I don’t see how it’s convenient,” she said. “Nate wore the tracker into the Basement just like you wanted him to. He says he was there for a couple of hours. And since you no doubt had someone following him, you know who he talked to. And you also know he got beaten up. How does his losing the tracker after all that translate into something convenient? Oh, and by the way, he’s not planning to go back to the Basement anyway.”
“Really,” Mosely said flatly, not even bothering to hide his disbelief.
Despite her fear, there was a part of Nadia that wanted to laugh again. She’d been afraid that Mosely would see through her lies and know that she and Nate had learned something—albeit, very little—about Bishop’s whereabouts; however, that didn’t seem to be the conclusion he was drawing. Instead, he seemed to think she’d arranged for some big cover-up to free Nate from the tracker.
Nadia looked at her hands again, remembering the stiff way Nate had moved this morning. “I didn’t see any bruises on him, but he was obviously in a lot of pain when I went to see him. He wants to find Bishop still, but I think last night proved to him that he was in over his head. Besides…”
“Yes?”
“Nate still doesn’t believe Bishop killed him, but he did tell me something this morning I thought you might want to know. Something I think makes even Nate have doubts now and then.”
“I’m intrigued. Please, continue.” More skepticism, but Nadia couldn’t allow herself to worry about it.
“Nate keeps a stash of dollars in his apartment. He and Bishop were the only ones who knew where those dollars were. When Nate went to the Basement for the first time, he wanted to take dollars with him, but when he went to get them, they were all gone.”
For the first time, Mosely looked like he really
“Very interesting indeed,” Mosely said.
Now would be a good time to let Mosely draw his own conclusions, but since Nadia was still pretending to be at least a little tipsy, she didn’t think sitting quietly and letting Mosely think was the right thing to do.
“Nate keeps making excuses for why Bishop took the money, but he’s pretty upset about it. He thinks it means Bishop used the dollars to get out of Paxco. He wasn’t going to the Basement because he expected to actually find Bishop there. He was going because he hoped he’d find someone who could help him get in touch with Bishop wherever he’s hiding.
“I know you think Nate is reckless and naive, and you won’t get any argument from me. If he still thought he had a chance of finding Bishop in the Basement and helping him, I’m sure what happened last night wouldn’t stop him from trying again. But under the circumstances…” She let her voice trail off.
