ESCANTA: A James Thomas Novel (The James Thomas Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

good show, then. Drink up, ladies,” Jemma said.
    An hour passed, and Mak knew this because she’d timed it on her watch, before she allowed herself to look in his direction again. She wanted to watch James, to observe him now that her mind was clear of fear. But when she finally did, the couch had new occupants and James Thomas was nowhere to be seen. She half-listened to the girls chitchat while her eyes roamed over the party, looking for him. She systematically worked her way through the crowd, which was not huge but a decent gathering of guests. She located Jayce, talking with a couple nearby, but James was not with him. Mak’s eyes flickered to James’ brother, who was in position by the entrance now, but he was talking on his phone, his eyes looking straight ahead as he spoke.
    Had James left already? Her eyes did one more sweep. He was definitely no longer at the party but he was still in her thoughts. What was it about him that was so mysterious? So alluring?
     
    It was three in the morning before they left the party, escorted out by Thomas Security. Mak’s car was waiting for her when she stepped out onto the sidewalk. The wind had picked up during the evening and a gust blew her gown so that it billowed behind her. Mak said her goodbyes, promising to meet Maya for brunch, and then climbed into the back seat of the car. Her bodyguard closed the door and then sat in the front seat, next to the driver.
    She rubbed her eyes as she struggled to see straight. She’d had way too much to drink—they all had, courtesy of Jemma Foster’s encouragement—and she knew she would pay for it tomorrow. But tonight, right now, she didn’t care. It numbed her anxiety—the anxiety of finding the scroll, the anxiety of taking on a high-profile case that she could lose in humiliating style, and the anxiety of meeting James Thomas, who had vanished like a ghost and had not re-appeared all night.
    “Is there an update on the scroll I received at the hotel?” Mak asked the men in the front seats.
    “No,” said her bodyguard. “At this stage we don’t have any leads. It looks like the hotel’s security tapes have been tampered with. We’ll continue looking at it and I’ll provide you with another update in the morning.”
    Mak chewed on her lip—that wasn’t the response she wanted. “Okay,” she said with a flat voice. What else could she say?
    She rested her head against the window, the alcohol and jetlag catching up with her. The motion of the car lured her to a light sleep, her mind only vaguely aware of the series of turns the vehicle made. What felt like seconds later, she was being woken up: she was home.
    Her bodyguard opened the door and walked her up the steps of her Upper East Side apartment building. She was accompanied in, and once her apartment was checked, she closed the door behind her bodyguard and sighed in relief. She leaned one palm against the door while she kicked off her shoes, leaving them where they landed, and stumbled into the bathroom. She made a futile attempt to remove her makeup and then brushed her teeth. She was drunk and dead tired and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed. Mak unzipped her gown and let it fall to the floor, and then pushed aside the bed cushions enough that she could climb onto her side of the bed. Even though her husband had never returned home, she still slept on the same side, still thought of it as her side of the bed.
    Mak was peeling back the duvet when she saw it. She blinked twice, not trusting her drunken mind and eyes, but she hadn’t made a mistake. Her pulse erupted like fireworks on the fourth of July as she picked up another scroll, hidden behind the cushions. She ripped off the ribbon and unrolled it.
     
    Keep your eyes open, Makaela.
     
    Mak’s hand went to her throat. Fear latched itself on like the tentacles of an octopus, strangling her as she struggled to breathe.
    They are doing this to scare you, she told herself. Calm down.
    Don’t