“And what makes you think that?” This time, his arms went over his chest powerfully, aggression surging through him.
She was the best damned contact the Unknown had. The only one that no one had been able to identify.
“She refuses to use her friends,” Jonas revealed with a shrug. “Both Rachel and I, as well as Ashley and Emma, have dropped several pieces of particularly useful information in an attempt to ascertain if she was indeed the contact. That information was never acted upon. Good spies understand the fact that friends are their best contacts.”
Not Gypsy, Rule thought wearily as he dropped his arms. Her friends, the few she claimed, were sacred to her. After all, she hadn’t had family since the night she had stood in the dark: cold, hurt, aching to be held only to have her parents turn to the child they had lost instead.
They’d never understood that they may have lost a son, but Gypsy had, at the very essence of her soul, lost her father.
“Let her go, Jonas,” he repeated, though the demand lacked the anger of moments before. “You know her as well as I do. If she had what you needed, you would have had it long before now. Hell, you wouldn’t have had to come here to get it. She would have contacted you.”
Silver mercury. Jonas’s eyes seemed to swirl, to storm within as he stared back at Rule.
“We’ll see,” he finally murmured. “We’ll see.”
...
The limo Gypsy rode in to the Breed ball with her parents was one of the most opulent she had ever seen. The leather was so fine, each stitch detailed, the scent of it luxurious.
It was almost, just almost enough to make up for the fact that she’d had very little time to prepare for this ball. At least she had a gown, even if it was meant for another event.
Layers of soft, delicate blue and green chiffon brought to mind emeralds and a sun-kissed sea as they shifted across each other. Each layer of the material was sewn together to blend and shift the colors as she moved, bringing attention to not just the delicacy of her figure, but also the dress itself.
Strapless, the delicate, hand-embroidered chiffon and lace cupped her breasts perfectly within the V-shaped bodice and revealed a tantalizing amount of cleavage.
Layers upon layers of chiffon fell from beneath the bodice like a waterfall of exquisite material as the slit that ran the length of her leg to her thigh teased with hints of soft flesh and emerald-threaded silk stockings, while a sixteen-inch train followed behind her. The front hem was the perfect length to cover the tips of her pale green heels, yet not long enough to trip her should she forget and let the toe of her shoe trap it.
She wore her mother’s emerald, sapphire and diamond necklace, the tiny jewels gleaming against her sun-kissed skin like tiny brilliant stars. Sapphire and diamond posts glittered at her earlobes, while the emerald tennis bracelet emphasized and drew attention to the sapphire and diamond ring she wore on her right hand.
The jewelry emphasized rather than overwhelmed the gown, while her lightly tanned skin glowed from the colors laid against it. Her green eyes appeared darker, the addition of shadowed, muted colors of her makeup about them giving her a sultry, mysterious look while the glossy light bronze lipstick drew the eye to the soft pout of her lips.
Her long dark hair was pulled back from her face, the sides held at the top of her head with a diamond-studded comb while tiny individual sapphire, emerald and diamond clips, barely larger than half the size of the head of an eraser, were secured in the waves.
Greta McQuade wore far different colors than her daughter. The bronze A-line chiffon and tulle gown had rich amber embroidered lace shoulders and bodice that covered her from her breasts to her still-trim hips. Bronze and amber chiffon fell to her matching bronze heels in the front while a short train trailed behind her. Amber teardrops dripped at her ears, while a matching amber gem fell to point just between the tops of her breasts and amber pins secured the shoulder-length waves of her hair into a neat twist atop her head.