In the center of the circle, an older officer in dress uniform, his chest decorated with medals and patches, posed for pictures. His thick straight brows drew together in the center of his lined forehead as he shook hands with a younger officer, about my age I guessed, one of his arms in a white sling. I raised my brows as I recognized Dylan Davies from the smarmy banner.
I sank back down on my stilettos and turned to Edna. “Did that Davies guy lose an arm-wrestling contest or something?”
“Ha!” Edna slugged Peter’s arm. “I like this one.” She thumbed at me, then grew serious. “Nah. He got injured when a witness attacked him. Act of bravery that won him the admiration of his peers.” She rolled her eyes behind her cat glasses, and I made a face. She seemed about as convinced this guy deserved Officer of the Year as Peter did.
I rose on my toes to get another look. Inspector Bon shuffled forward and stood between the older officer and Davies, a good head shorter than both of them.
The older officer scowled at Bon, said something, and Bon’s face fell before he slunk off. I chuckled. I was a fan of anyone who could tell Bon off. Peter’s boss seemed unconvinced of my abilities (which, to be fair, was pretty good instincts on his part) and didn’t miss an opportunity to let me know how he felt.
I nudged Peter. “Who’s the older guy?”
He glanced down at me, brow creased. “That’s Chief Jack Taylor.” He flashed his eyes. “He’s head of the police in the Water Kingdom—kind of a big deal.”
“Hm.” I shot Edna a wide-eyed look. I’d say so. The smell of something buttery and seafood-y caught my attention, and I sniffed the air. Oh yum. I followed my nose and turned until I caught sight of the long buffet table piled high with crab legs, salmon, calamari, and what seemed like a hundred more dishes with delicious treasures just waiting for me to smash my face with them.
I tapped Peter’s arm. “Ooh, let’s go get some foo—” I stopped midsentence as a wave of pure, icy panic flooded over me and turned my stomach.
Zale, my ex-boyfriend (and very briefly fiancé) moved down the line of the buffet, two golden plates magically hovering beside him. An enchanted spoon scooped a pile of crab salad onto one of them. He grinned and joked with the older man beside him.
A flood of memories rushed to me. That charming smile had been what first drew me to Zale when he’d just been a handsome coworker. My mouth grew desert dry.
The older man, Emerson Watts, had been one of the partners at the firm we’d worked at together. My chest heaved. The very same man who’d both informed me of my promotion to partner and then turned around and fired me the moment I’d revealed myself to be a shifter.
“Uh—Jolene.”
I blinked and forced myself to peel my gaze from Zale and Emerson to look up at Peter.
His eyes held concern behind his mask. “You okay?”
“Mm-hmm.” I plastered on a manic smile.
“It’s just—” He glanced down, and I followed his gaze to where I held his arm in a death grip.
“Oh.” I unclenched my hand, then shoved it to my side to hide its trembling. “Ha! I just—got a little dizzy.” I held up my cocktail.
Daisy, still being petted by Edna, growled. Liar. But what’s new?
Peter grinned. “I know how you feel.” His eyes locked on mine. “Would you care to dance?”
I tried for a smile, but it came out a faltering grimace. “Can I get a rain check on that? I’ve, uh—” I took a few steps back, away from Peter and away from the buffet table and my former colleagues. “I’ve got to go drain the eel.” Oh my goddess. I made a face at myself. Of all the phrases to choose—guess I’d heard Will say it too many times.
Peter’s smile faltered. “Oh, uh—sure.”
Edna pointed to my left. “Ladies’ room is that way, doll—past the end of the bar.”
I nodded my thanks and spun away before I could say something more heinous. I touched a finger to my feathered mask, just to double check it was in place. Some of my panic subsided as I remembered that, hopefully, no one, not Zale or Emerson or any of my other former colleagues, would recognize me in this costume. Still, I needed a moment alone to collect myself.
I gathered up my skirt and hustled to the back of the room, frantically sucking up my cocktail as I went. A little liquid courage couldn’t hurt.
LADIES’ ROOM
I pushed through the swinging door into the lobby of the ladies’ room. You knew you were in a swanky joint when the bathroom had a lobby. My home didn’t even have a lobby.
Women in gowns perched on velvet poofs scattered about, preening in front of a wall-sized mirror. A line for the toilets snaked toward me, at least two dozen deep. A few women turned my way as I stumbled forward, chest heaving, and looked me up and down. I shot them a tight-lipped smile and then, because I didn’t actually have to go, tripped toward the sinks.
I rounded the corner, found an open one, and planted my hands on the marble countertop. I bent forward, gazing down at the golden shell-shaped vessel sink, and willed my breathing to slow down. This stupidly tight bodice wasn’t helping.
I gulped and clutched at the fabric with one hand, trying to pull it away from my ribs to give myself a little breathing room. A woman slid up beside me and turned the taps, washing her hands. I kept my gaze straight down and ahead of me. Breathe, Jolene. Vital life function here. Inhale—exhale. My ribs strained against the tight velvet. Stupid lungs—so uncooperative.
I blew out a heavy breath, rocked on
