As the hours slowly ticked by, Trevor found himself lost in drink and observation. He
had switched over to brandy after watching the dance of the woman called Undina. He could
not help but notice when she re-emerged from backstage and seated herself in an isolated
corner of the club. In order to quell his natural desire to go over and speak with her, he had
taken to carefully monitoring the way his crew members were interacting with the various
women in the club.
The captain’s younger brother, Callen Murrey, had already guzzled down far too
much beer. He was puffing out his chest and doubtlessly boasting of grand, falsified exploits to
the girls who flocked around him. Even watching his body language from across the room
made Trevor exhausted. He was fairly certain that his brother would convince one of those
girls to accompany him home at the end of the night. To Trevor’s home, anyway, where
Callen parasitically stayed.
Rolling his eyes at Callen’s behavior, he sent a fleeting curious glance in Undina’s
direction before turning back to his men.
His eyes settled on his young protégé, Aiden Hass. The boy was a college student from
New York who had grown tired of the burden of his sky-rocketing debt. He had researched the
position in which he could make the most money possible in a few short months, and here he
was, giving it his best shot. Trevor felt protective of the boy. For all his cosmopolitan
cleverness, he still had a youthful recklessness about him which was hazardous in a place like
this. Trevor wondered, as he watched a blonde seat herself on Aiden’s lap and whisper in his
ear, whether the young man really understood the danger he was facing. Not from the blonde,
who was only a danger to Aiden’s heart and bank account, but from the job.
Aiden had not actually seen Leland die. Neither had he seen the man’s body—they
had not been able to recover it. Perhaps a gruesome, visually violent death would have been
healthier for the boy’s deficient sense of caution. Then again, most young men carried
themselves about with an aura of immortality and invincibility. Trevor wondered why he had
never felt that way himself. He discreetly looked over at Undina’s corner once more. Trevor felt an inexplicable
pang of jealousy when he saw a man approaching her, and an even more peculiar pang of
pride when he observed her crossed arms and reproachful body language.
He turned back, casting his gaze on Urius—the brawny man of Inuit descent who was
always chomping on something. A cigar, a toothpick, a pen, a piece of rope. He was sitting
with Edward, the Jamaican, and the sentimental ex-marine Doughlas. For a supposed war hero
and someone who was self-proclaimed to have “seen it all,” Doughlas was not taking the
situation well. He was essentially sobbing as Edward and Urius consoled him.
Not far from those three sat the brothers from Seattle—Wyatt and Wilbert Wade. For
being such very different people, the Wade brothers were fiercely loyal and devoted to each
other, and they got along far better than Captain Murray and his own brother. Wilbert, called
“Billy” by the crew, was somewhat effeminate. He was never the butt of any jokes or teasing,
for Wyatt was extremely defensive and always joyously ready for an excuse to deploy his fists.
Trevain could not resist a small smile as he observed Billy interacting with a pretty dancer. He
was doubtlessly complimenting her clothing and sense of style and confusing the poor girl.
Again, the captain looked over at Undina. A gorgeous redhead passed close by her,
being pulled to the private dancing area by a young man. The redhead looked at the seated
dark-haired woman, and quickly made a complex hand gesture as she passed her. Undina
responded with a hand gesture of her own. Trevain frowned thoughtfully. American Sign
Language? Could one of the girls be deaf or mute?
He was positive that Undina could not be deaf—at least not completely. She had
danced too perfectly to the time of the music to be unable to hear it. Yet it was possible that
she was mute. He had not once seen her lips move in speech; those sensuous, reddened lips,
which contrasted sharply with her impressive mass of dark hair. Undina’s head turned
towards him sharply, as though she could feel his inquest. Her dark eyes locked with his
hesitantly, and he looked away in embarrassment and dismay.
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