The Devil Among Us Ramsay Sinclair (librera reader .TXT) 📖

and said suspension was for my own good. I want revenge as much as the next guy, but I refuse to let you run in there and mess things up. We plan, and we catch them properly. Logically.”

I could hear the faith in our skills and the determination in her voice. Slowly, I calmed down and followed the breathing exercises Abbey shared with me to help with that, the art of breathing in and out composedly.

“Fine,” I could finally speak without hissing. “I’ll get closer to DCI Reid and wrangle the truth from him. I need to make sure he trusts me enough that something crucial will spill.”

“You’re playing with fire,” my work partner informed me, though she wasn’t pitting us against the idea. Just ensuring we were aware of the jeopardy to our careers going against DCI Reid could pose.

“McCall’s right,” Abbey acknowledged, and her lashes, thickly coated in mascara, batted. “It’s too dangerous to do it alone. You said so yourself, these people are everywhere, like cockroaches.”

“I don’t care,” I stubbornly argued for that was the last thing on my mind. “If DCI Reid was behind all of this, he’s got blood on his hands.”

McCall stepped forward and located some paper from the stash kept in a cupboard. “Then how are we going to do this?” She paused, pen poised above the clean sheet.

“We?”

“Abbey’s right too,” McCall backed her up, much to her gratitude. They shared a small smile. “This is our team, right here, right now. We can’t risk anyone else knowing this, not even John. There’s no going back now/ I know us three well enough to know we won't let this go without a fight. So what are we going to do?”

The women hunched over the table, awaiting a plan. Giving in to their scheme, I followed suit and prodded the paper.

“We need someplace where DCI Reid will be comfortable and preferably loose-lipped.”

Abbey gasped in revelation, rosebud lipstick faint after drinking the tea. “Where’s someplace that everybody you know is going to be drunk, dancing and charitable?” There was a weird excitement that I’d never seen in her before. It’s almost as though she was enjoying the scheming.

It took a while for us to catch on to her encouraging nods.

“The gala.”

“The gala, exactly,” she smirked in satisfaction.

21

Saturday couldn’t roll around fast enough. McCall had assisted me by sorting out a tuxedo to wear and hair gel strong enough to tame my wild locks. Abbey, however, had been locked up in the room all afternoon and refused to let me see her until she’d finished getting ready.

“Abbey,” I knocked on our bedroom door, knowing that if we didn’t leave soon, we’d be late and miss the opportunity to talk to DCI Reid before anyone else. “Are you nearly ready? You’ve been in there for hours…” I faltered off as she opened the door.

As cheesy as it sounded, she was absolutely breathtaking. A silken, red material clung to her hips and then cascaded to the floor. The neckline displayed her particularly endearing collarbone. I’d always been attracted to them, it was an unexplainable phenomenon of my nature.

“I’m ready, so you can stop being so impatient. Knocking a thousand times over didn’t really help with the efficiency, by the way. It only made me smudge my eyeliner twice.” She blazed ahead and found a fur coat that apparently complimented the outfit. Curls cascaded and grazed her bare shoulders, spilling out from the high bun she’d fashioned. Around twenty bobby pins were disguised and held the style together, although she kept checking that they hadn’t fallen out.

One thing I’d noticed about living with a woman is the amount of hair they shred. I was forever discovering those same hair clips everywhere. Clogging up the shower drain, stuck in the hoover or even on the windowsills. Twenty years ago petty things like that wouldn’t bother me, and I’d be grateful to even have a girlfriend.

Now, the smaller things in life seemed more pressing.

“Dressing for a mission isn’t easy, you know,” she called from the bathroom, cleaning up lipstick and spraying a spritz of perfume. Basically, she was faffing.

I tried hard to stop looking at the clock. “It’s not called a mission.”

My correction fell on deaf ears, for she wasn’t even listening. “You guys get it easy. Throw on a suit and have a shower. That’s it.” At last, she began to retreat downstairs where McCall complimented her appearance.

“Well, I suppose.” I followed her down the staircase, finding the suit stiff and the waistband of my smartest trousers a bit too tight.

“Well, don’t you look dandy, Finlay Cooper.” McCall grinned and tried to wind me up on purpose, knowing how uncomfortable I was attending posh events.

Dandy?

“That’s a word I haven’t heard in a while.” I shook my head in mock contempt and slicked my hair back. It kept falling over my forehead and playing up.

Our small talk was disguising the turmoil and apprehension we each felt towards tonight’s proceedings. I could tell by Abbey’s nervous laughter and McCall’s drumming on her thighs that they both felt on edge. I too had a habit of rushing around when I felt tense.

“Keeps it exciting.” McCall shrugged, propped up against the sofa cushions. “You two look like a very lovely couple when you make an effort, Finlay.”

Groaning, I shoved my wallet into my trousers. This was, after all, a charity event. “Don’t entertain it, McCall. I beg of you. She’ll force me to wear this every week if she could.”

“Yup,” McCall settled down. “I’m an adult, Finlay, you don’t have to worry.”

Abbey blushed and tied up her precarious heels, whilst I fiddled with my tux.

“It all feels a bit elaborate,” I complained and earned yet another tut from my girlfriend. “But,” I attempted to save face, “it’s necessary to go and there will be drinks waiting for us.”

Abbey scoffed at my pessimistic self. “Always the optimist. If this wasn’t all about work, then tonight could’ve been a nice break for all of us.