Page 126 of Taste of Blood

We’re out front.

Be right down.

Asher’s black SUV is parked next to the curb when I exit the building. His driver jumps out and comes around to open the door for me. When I climb into the back seat, Asher flashes a wicked grin at me.

“You look good enough to eat,” he murmurs as the driver gets back in and pulls us out into traffic.

I smirk. “Control yourself. We’ve got a job to do tonight.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t indulge in a little fantasy.” He leans closer. “I love you in the suit, but I can’t wait to get you out of it.”

“You’re a horny bastard, aren’t you?”

“Only when it comes to you.” He sits back in the seat but his eyes stay on me. “How did your operation go last night?”

Thankful to be on safer ground–not that I’m not equally interested in getting Asher out of his own suit–I just want to keep my mind clear right now, especially after what I learned in the interrogation yesterday.

“Good.” I hesitate, not sure if I should tell him about the new threat. I finally decide he’ll be better able to defend himself if I do since I can’t be his protector all the time.

“Two guys jumped me when I was leaving my apartment yesterday.”

He quirks a brow. “The Python’s men?”

I nod. “Apparently there’s a hit out on me because of my relationship to Dante.”

“They told you that?”

“It took a little convincing, but yeah.”

“I don’t like this, Cord.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt that, but anyone can get lucky once.”

“Well I can’t exactly hide in my apartment. And I’m not telling you to worry you. I just want you to be vigilant.”

“You think they’ll come after me?”

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly.

“We haven’t been seen together in years. Well, except for the night we met at O’Hara’s and our visit to Lupercalia last week.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I guess I never really thought about that.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m just warning everyone close to me.”

Asher frowns. “I can’t wait to get that bastard Thalium in front of me.”

“Don’t provoke him.”

The grin he offers me is positively sinister. “Trust me, Cord. This is my wheelhouse.”

As if on cue, we pull up outside the event. There’s a line of cars at the curb dropping off the tuxedoed and gowned luminaries of high society. Our driver inches up to the front of the line and jumps out to open our door.

“Thank you, Benjimen,” Asher says, then turns back to me. “Smile.” He pastes on his party face and exits the car with me behind him. I button my jacket to cover the bulge of my knife at my waist.

A reporter is attempting to corner people for a soundbite as they ascend the steps, but Asher deftly maneuvers us around her. This is his world, so I’m taking my cues from him. If it was up to me, I’d shove the vulture out of the way and step over her body. Asher smirks as if he read my mind.

“Come on, let’s get inside before you start an incident.”