Page 105 of Taste of Blood

Fucking Asher.

I pull up to the warehouse just before ten, having put my internal demons to rest, and head inside to see what fresh hell Dante has in store for me.

“Missed a couple of good fights last night,” Zeke greets as I enter the building.

“Oh yeah? Did you fight?”

“Nah, though I’m thinking about going back tonight. More variety on a Friday.”

“True.” I look around. “Dante in his office?”

“Last I seen.”

“Thanks.”

Roland reaches over to open the door for me when I approach the office. I walk inside, not knowing what to expect.

Gio is sitting on the couch, content, as always, to remain in the background while Dante talks to someone from behind his desk. I see now there’s a woman perched on the chair in front of him, and from the vibe I’m getting, she’s pretty upset.

Dante looks up and waves me over, indicating for me to take a seat next to Gio while he finishes up with the woman. She’s Clan, pretty in a frail way, and dressed like she walked out of the last century, which makes me wonder how old she really is. Some vamps tend to stay stuck in the decade of their transition, unable to move forward or embrace the changing times.

“I want you to go home and not say anything about coming here,” he tells her as he stands and comes around the desk.

The woman rises and dabs at her eyes. “What will you do?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything.”

“I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

He pats her arm and leads her toward the door. “That’s all any of us want.”

She stops at the door and turns to him. “You won’t hurt him, will you? He’s all I have.”

“That will depend on him.”

She seems to consider that, then nods. “Thank you, Mr. Fantini.”

“Please, call me Dante.”

After she walks out and he closes the door, Dante flips the switch on his composure. “Fucking Cosgrove. One thing I cannot stomach is betrayal.”

I remain silent as he paces the office, allowing him time to purge his rage. It wouldn’t do to get in the way of that right now.

After a few minutes he stops and looks at Gio. “What do we know about Alvin Cosgrove?”

The name sounds familiar; I think he’s one of the crew who works the den down by the docks. Haven’t had much interaction with him myself, though I’ve seen him around once or twice. What has he done to incur Dante’s wrath?

“He’s a gambler,” Gio says. “Frequents a poker game in Chinatown. He’s also fifty-large into a bookie up in East Harlem.”

“How do you know that?” I ask before thinking.

He offers me a shrewd smile. “It’s my job to know.”

The way he says it tells me he knows things about me, too. I don’t know what that would be, and that fact alone makes it unsettling.

“That must be how he got pulled away from us, but why is he hiding?” Dante asks. “You think the bookie sent someone after him?”

“If he did he would’ve made an example of him. I think this is Cosgrove’s own doing.”