Losing Nuka (Litmus Book 1) by Kayla Howarth

know about Litmus?” he growls.
    “Wh—”
    “Who told you?” The rage in his eyes is similar to what I saw when he pegged me up against the wall of the nightclub a few nights ago, only this time it’s even more intimidating. And I don’t even have a gun to my head this time.
    “Sasha. Who else?”
    “What did she tell you?”
    My lip trembles, my body beginning to ache from being held in this position.
    “Nothing. Just that she bartends and that it’s some kind of test. Whatever that means.”
    He takes a step back, releasing me from his grip, but not looking any happier.
    “I don’t exactly know what just happened, but next time you want to know something—just ask me.” My tone is quiet and mousy, not exactly how I was hoping for it to come out.
    “When did Sasha tell you?” It’s obvious he’s trying to stay calm, though he’s talking through gritted teeth.
    “Just before—at the pool. Weren’t you listening?”
    “I tuned you out as soon as you called me an ass,” he says, managing a small smile. “You weren’t meant to be told about Litmus until tonight. You’ll go through all the security and confidentiality briefings there. When you muttered ‘Litmus’… I thought …” He struggles to talk. “I thought you might be here for other reasons.”
    “What other reasons would there be?”
    “We know who your adoptive family is.”
    “You think they sent me? I’ve barely spoken to them for three years. You really think I’d be working for them? And what’s Litmus anyway? Why can’t you just tell me now instead of tonight?”
    “You’ll find out tonight. Just stay at the house this afternoon, okay? At least then you can’t screw up.”
    “What about my lunch with Declan?”
    “Security risk.”
    “But I’m not going to—”
    “Cancel it.”
     

-7-
    LITMUS
     
     
    “ That’s what you’re wearing?” Sasha asks as she enters my room without knocking.
    “What’s wrong with jeans and a T-shirt?” I ask, looking down at my comfortable clothes. “Is there some kind of dress code?” It’s only then do I really take notice of what my sister is wearing, and it’s basically nothing. “Or is practical nudity a requirement?”
    She assesses herself, turning in a circle as she shows off her cowlick halter-top that barely covers her boobs and exposes her midriff. Her barely there skirt—or is it a head scarf? I can’t tell—doesn’t leave much to the imagination, but that’s okay because her fishnet stockings cover her legs … just. I can’t help giving a disapproving stare.
    She looks back up at me after inspecting herself and shrugs. “I didn’t pick it out.”
    “Sorry, what?”
    “Jonas picks what I wear when I work at the club.”
    “And Cade is okay with you wearing … that?”
    “You can call her Mum, you know.”
    “I … I don’t think I’m there yet,” I stammer.
    There’s a knock at my door before Brett walks in. “I brought your clothes for you,” he says, handing me a plastic garment bag.
    “My clothes?”
    “For tonight. Cade’s orders, probably passed down from Jonas.”
    My heart starts thumping in my chest. Oh God … I’m going to have to dress like Sasha. I glance over at her, suddenly terrified of where exactly I’m going tonight and what I’ll be expected to do. What kind of place is this?
    I slowly unzip the garment bag, silently relieved when I see a pair of black pleather pants. At least I won’t be wearing Sasha’s skirt. My muscles tense when I see I have a top matching hers though.
    “I …”
    “It’s not negotiable, so don’t even try. See you both there,” Brett says walking out.
    “There? You mean he’s not going to be hanging off us the whole time like the leech that he is?” I ask Sasha, making her giggle.
    “He’s doing a showcase tonight, so he’ll meet us there. We’ll be tailed by the other leech tonight.”
    “Well, I already like Drake better than Brett.”
    “I like him better than Brett too, but