Blood Secret Read Free Page B

he’d spent five years just nodding and pretending to agree and thinking about soccer or work or . . . who the hell knew? ‘I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.’
    â€˜So it’s before ?’
    She shook her head in frustration. ‘I’ve got to go.’
    â€˜Come on, Rennie, give me a break here.’
    â€˜ Now you want to talk about it? In the middle of Trish’s party? When I’m meant to be helping Pav.’
    â€˜No. You’re right. Let’s not talk about it. Let’s just file it with all the other stuff you haven’t told me.’
    She pulled in a breath as though she’d been winded. ‘Where did that come from?’
    â€˜Nowhere. Forget it. Forget the lot. Go help Pav.’ He took a champagne bottle from its ice bucket and walked into the crowd.
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3
    â€˜Rennie, Rennie. My best girl!’ Pav called across the kitchen from the workbench. Not sounding too desperate.
    The small space smelled of fresh coriander and mint and the heady aroma of garlic in the marinated beef skewers cooking on the grill.
    â€˜I’m not your girl .’ Rennie waved at Toby, the seventeen-year-old dishwasher and dogsbody, and stood at the workbench opposite Pav, a half-filled platter of rice paper rolls between them. ‘I’m your manager, chief waitress, stand-by barista and free party staff. Anything ready to go out?’
    â€˜Two minutes. Hey, you’re shaking. Have some bread.’ Both of his hands were busy arranging the platter so he used his head to point at the baskets of Turkish bread behind her.
    â€˜I’m not hungry; it’s adrenaline. A kid tailgated us to the car park and tried to run us down with a four-wheel drive.’
    â€˜Then drink, drink.’ He touched the tip of his tongs to the base of her champagne flute, pushed it towards her mouth and made throaty sounds that could have been ‘up, up’ or something else entirely in Polish. Or maybe some other language he’d picked up between Warsaw and Haven Bay. She gulped, felt the alcohol hit its mark and was disappointed she needed it more than she’ d expected.
    â€˜So road rage comes to sleepy Haven Bay, huh?’ Pav said.
    â€˜Who would’ve thought?’
    â€˜I was in a road rage thing once. Some guy pulled a knife on me.’
    â€˜No shit. A knife?’ Toby called from the sink.
    Nausea did a quick roll in Rennie’s stomach. She’d wondered why the kid had stayed in the car. Wondered if the taunting was to get one of them close enough to use a weapon. Christ, and Max had been walking right up to him. She shook it off. This was Haven Bay. ‘Let me guess. Berlin.’
    â€˜No, Kings Cross, Sydney. This guy got worked up about a parking spot, started yelling at me and whipped out the knife.’
    â€˜What kind of knife?’ Toby asked.
    â€˜Some little pocket blade.’ Pav picked up a long, wide chopping blade from the workbench and grinned. ‘Nothing like a real tool.’
    â€˜What did you do?’ Toby asked.
    â€˜I showed him where the fillet knife got me.’ He turned his left palm face-up. He was wearing gloves but Rennie knew the old, jagged scar that ran from the inside of his thumb to the veins on his wrist like a lifeline – a warning for kitchen hands working with slippery dead animals. ‘Told him I was ex-KGB, trained in hand-to-hand combat, and I could crush his face before he could get close enough to cut me.’
    â€˜Good one,’ Toby laughed.
    Rennie’s grin was half amusement, half disbelief. ‘Seriously?’
    He shrugged. ‘He was a moron. Wanted to know if I’d met Gorbachev. I let him shout me drinks while I bull­shitted all about it. Here, this one’s ready.’ He slid the platter towards her, the rice paper rolls teamed with bite-sized Thai fish cakes. ‘A favourite dish at the Kremlin, you know.’
    She took