Avery Flynn - Killer Style 02 - This Year's Black by Avery Flynn

Author:Avery Flynn [Flynn, Avery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery: Thriller - Romance - P.I.
ISBN: 1622666232
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2014-05-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“Creativity comes from a conflict of ideas.”

— Donatella Versace

Andol Fashion Week didn’t have the glitz and glamor of Paris or New York, but fashionistas from all over South America and even Europe packed into luxury homes and five-star resorts hastily converted into fashion destinations where six-foot-tall models strutted down narrow runways showcasing the best the continent had to offer. The clothes were on display, but all the ladies-who-lunch could talk about that morning were the thieves who’d hit the city’s main hotel and swiped enough diamonds to fund a trip to the moon.

Ryder could give a shit if some ultra-rich women lost a few baubles that were no doubt insured. She’d hauled her ass halfway across the island for one reason only: to find Sarah Molina. A confirmed fashion junkie who’d been a part of the fashion world for three decades, there was no way she’d miss out on the continent’s premier fashion event.

Walking up the stone pathway to a covered Zen garden, her kitten heels clicking on each flagstone, Ryder scanned the small groupings concentrated near the three bars placed strategically around the potted bonsai trees. These shows never started on time, allowing even the latecomers like her and Devin time to see and be seen. Her earlier rage had congealed like mozzarella cheese on a day-old slice of pizza, leaving her mind free of the red haze coloring her vision. She scanned the glittering crowd as she circled the empty runway, searching for Sarah’s distinctive ebony bob. She spotted plenty of blondes, a handful of brunettes, and even the occasional white, but no bob. The lack of results turned her last nerve into a tiny nub of discontent and free-floating aggression. Well, that and the frustration of pretending she was Devin’s happy little assistant even though she wanted to knock him in the nuts for thinking she’d leaked the news about the store’s financial troubles.

A shadow fell across her path. She didn’t have to look up to know the most annoying man in the world had stopped beside her. A tingling up her spine had told her he was near long before he darkened her sight lines.

“Do you see her?” The intensity in Devin’s hushed words made a mockery of his casual stance and the loose way he held a champagne flute.

She shook her head as a short man in a blue seersucker suit rushed toward them. Immediately on guard, she pivoted and braced her shoulders in case of attack. He had a paunchy belly, teeth so white they were nearly florescent, and a bulbous nose that would make a perfect first target. She rose onto the balls of her feet, keeping her muscles loose but ready.

The man started talking before his feet even stopped moving. “Mr. Devin Harris, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Louis Pucci, The Andol Republic’s cultural minister.”

She relaxed back onto her heels, wishing she could exhale the fight-or-flight adrenaline rush from her veins instead of having to let it tweak through her system, making her muscles contract under her black lace sleeves.

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