There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

“Don’t worry about that—he’s not on the guest list, and there’s no way in
hell somebody brought him as a date.”
I take a short detour to whisper in Sonia’s ear. Ten minutes later Hawks is
hustled out of the party, arguing with security all the way out the door.
Sanity is a fragile thing—a few taps with a hammer and the whole psyche can
crack. I think Hawks has had more than a few taps.
As Hawks leaves, Shaw arrives. He’s dressed in a midnight-blue tux, a
stunning redhead on his arm. The girl looks suspiciously like Erin
Whalstrom. I doubt that’s a coincidence—we knew Shaw would come, and
he knew we’d be here, too. He can’t resist turning the knife one last time on
Mara.
She watches Shaw twirl the redhead around the dance floor, her shoulders
stiff with anger.
“Just a few more hours,” I promise her. “Then he’ll pay.”
“Bleed every fucking drop out of him,” she replies, never taking her eyes off
Shaw.
We wait for him to get comfortable. We wait for the night to progress. This is
an important part of the hunt: the false sense of security. Let the prey come
into the clearing. Let them approach the water. And let them lower their head
to drink. Only then does the crocodile lunge up out of the water.
Shaw drinks his champagne. He flirts with the redhead, and with anyone else
who passes within his view. Occasionally he throws glances in my direction,
or in Mara’s. I ignore him as I have at other events where we’ve been forced
to share space. It’s never me who approaches Shaw, always the other way
around.
Mara and I dance together.
She’s already beginning her part of the charade. She pretends to drink too
much champagne, leaning heavily on my arm. And I pretend to become
annoyed with her, snapping at her once or twice, before she spills her drink
on my trousers and I stalk off, annoyed, abandoning her on the dance floor.