Chapter 37 Cord #2
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.”
The venue is a sparkling display of lavish wealth.
Crystal chandeliers bathe the room in warm light, while tables laden with finger food rim the marbled floor.
The soft strains of a string quartet provide a muted backdrop to the low level buzz of conversation.
There has to be close to three or four hundred people in the room, with more arriving in a continuous stream.
Asher snags two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and hands me one.
“I hate champagne,” I mutter.
“I know, but it’s for appearances.”
He leads me further into the room, nodding now and then to what I assume are acquaintances. When he stops to chat with an older gentleman, I let my eyes wander over the crowd, looking for our mark.
I’m not paying any attention to the conversation in front of me until I hear the question directed at me.
“And what do you do, young man?”
I stare down at the man, who’s watching me with a shrewd gleam in his eye. I’m momentarily at a loss for words until Asher swoops in to save me.
“You’ll have to excuse him. He’s in security. They never stop working.”
“Maybe I should hire you,” the man says to me. “I can never find anyone who takes his job seriously.”
I let my eyes meet his and push my lips up into something resembling a smile. Asher grabs my arm and excuses us, steering me away before I say something that will get us both thrown out.
“I was behaving,” I insist once we’re out of earshot.
“Let’s not tempt fate. Did you see him?”
“Not yet, but there’s a lot of people here.”
Too many, if you ask me. I’m not a fan of crowds, especially the kind dressed to kill.
They’re all pretending to be such do-gooders and are probably more ruthless than most vamps.
My hand itches to reach for my knife. A picture flashes in my mind of people running away, covered in blood. Strangely, the image calms me.
“Let’s head over to the tables,” Asher says. “Everyone passes by there eventually.”
“As long as we don’t have to pretend to eat,” I mutter.
“No one eats at these things,” Asher assures me.
Then why do they have all the food?
We’re halfway across the room when someone calls out Asher’s name. We both stop and turn as a handsome male vamp strides up to us. Asher’s smile is genuine when he greets the man, causing an unwelcome flare of jealousy in me.
“Miro, I didn’t think this was your type of scene. A little too tame for you, isn’t it?”
The man called Miro shrugs. “True, but I’m here on behalf of Carlyle.”
Carlyle. I swallow the snarl that threatens to crawl up my throat at the mention of that name.
Asher turns to me. “Cord, this is Miro Virtanen. He’s an old friend. Miro, this is Cord McCallister. My…?”
Now who’s at a loss for words? “Lover,” I supply smoothly, ignoring Asher’s look of shock.
Miro grins. “Oh my. Where have you been keeping him, Asher?”
“We’ve recently reconnected,” I reply, slipping my arm through Asher’s possessively. His look of bewilderment is almost worth putting up with this waste of space in front of us. It’s not often I can render Asher speechless.
Miro chuckles. “Well, don’t get into anything I wouldn’t.” He leans closer to Asher. “Of course, that leaves you a lot of leeway.”
I growl low in my throat, the sound swallowed up by the ambient noise of the room, but apparently Asher heard it. He squeezes my arm as Miro wanders off.
“What was that about?”
I feign innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You growled at him. Are you jealous?”
“Hardly,” I snort.
“You called me your lover.”
I look at him. “Well, was I lying?”
He stares at me, open-mouthed, until I lean over and tip my fingers under his chin. “Focus, Ash. Remember, we’ve got a job to do.”
He recovers himself and huffs out a breath. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”
“I hope not,” I murmur as I resume walking toward the tables.
There’s a noise from the front of the room as a middle aged gentleman holds up a glass and taps a knife against it.
“If I could have your attention, please,” he says.
The room grows quiet as the assembled guests turn in his direction.
“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Pierre Dupont, president of the Arts Council. I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight and for your generosity toward this wonderful benefit. It’s a cause near and dear to my heart, as I’m sure it is yours as well.
“To that end, I’d like to extend a special welcome to our patron tonight, the man who organized this event and contributed a healthy donation to our coffers. I hope this is the beginning of a long and profitable relationship between us. With that said, allow me to introduce Howard Thalium.”
I freeze, breathless, as the man we’ve been scouring the city for steps forward and smiles at the crowd. Beside me I can feel Asher’s tension, mirroring my own.
“What the hell is this?” I say through gritted teeth.
“I don’t know,” Asher mutters.
My blood is pounding so loudly in my ears I don’t hear what he’s saying. It takes all my rapidly fraying control not to pull out my knife and toss it at his neck. I stare at him, certain that he can feel my eyes upon him. Look at me, you fucking piece of shit, I want to shout.
“So that’s the snake who’s fucking up my city,” a dark voice says behind me.
I turn to find Dante standing there with a blonde human woman on his arm. He nods to me and leans closer. “Have you had a chance to talk to him yet?”
I glance at Asher, who shrugs. “No. This is the first I’ve seen of him.”
“If I get him alone I’m going to slit his throat–after I force him to tell me what the hell he thinks he’s doing here.”
The eyes of the woman next to him widen at his statement, but she remains mute.
I look around; I don’t see his bodyguards but I’m sure they’re here somewhere.
The last person I expected to run into tonight is Dante, especially with everything he’s got going on right now.
Did he know Thalium was going to be here?
Speaking of the weasel, he’s stopped talking and is moving into the crowd. Dante is laser-focused on him, so I lean over and whisper in Asher’s ear. “Did you know Dante was going to be here?” He meets my eyes and nods. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would you have come if I did?”
I hesitate, unsure how I want to answer that.
Would I? It’s not like I’m avoiding him; I’ve just never been in a social setting with him before.
He doesn’t seem particularly surprised to see me, which makes me wonder if he knew I was going to be here.
I slant a look at Asher, but his expression is neutral.
I’m still mulling that over when a figure moves into my peripheral vision. I look up to find Thalium standing in front of me, though he’s focused on my boss.
“Dante Fantini?” he says, extending his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Dante stares at the offered hand for a moment before grasping it, his face composed, though I can see the fires of rage burning in his eyes. This should be interesting.
“And you are Howard Thalium,” Dante says. “Patron of the arts.”
Thalium gives an elegant shrug. “It’s one of many hobbies.”
Dante scores points by not taking the bait. “You say you’ve heard about me? What exactly would that be?”
“Just that you have your finger on the pulse of this city. I’m quite envious, actually.”
“And why is that?” Dante asks. You could cut the tension between them with a knife.
“I’m trying to grow my business here, which means of course, building bridges with the right contacts. Perhaps we could be mutually beneficial to each other.”
“What line of business are you in?”
“A little of this, a little of that, but I do have a small pharmaceutical company I recently acquired.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Dante replies, “but I don’t have anything to do with pharmaceuticals.”
“That’s not what I hear.”
The vein on the side of Dante’s head starts to pulse. I tense, ready to jump in if needed, when Thalium turns his attention to Asher. “And what about you, Mr. Winston? I hear your company is quite involved in acquisitions.”
Once again I find myself swallowing a growl. The last thing I want is Thalium’s attention on Asher. How does he even know who he is?
The green of Asher’s eyes deepens as he replies, “You seem to know a lot about other people, Mr. Thalium. One would think you were researching us.”
“I make it my business to know my competition.”
“And how exactly did I become your competition?”
Thalium’s eyes flicker to me as he offers a humorless smile. “You can’t blame me for envying you. You have one of the most successful companies on the east coast.”
I’m this close to strangling him. I feel my body tense up, my fists clenching at my sides until Asher’s hand touches mine, defusing the situation. Thalium’s eyes track the movement and his lips curl up in a smirk.
He leans closer to Asher. “Now that the dick measuring is over,” he murmurs, “please enjoy what’s left of your evening.” And then he strolls off like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“I’m going to fucking murder him,” Dante snarls.
“Not if I get to him first,” Asher mutters.
“He was taunting us,” I say, turning to Asher. “I don’t like that he knows who you are.”
“I don’t either,” he admits.
“I need to go to the ladies’ room,” the woman on Dante’s arm says. I’d all but forgotten she was there.
“I believe it’s by the entrance,” Dante tells her as she wanders off. After she’s gone, he turns back to us. “Since the fucker obviously knows who we all are, I see no reason not to take him out tonight.”
I’m in complete agreement, though I’m not sure how we’re going to accomplish that with just the three of us. That’s when I spot Roland working his way through the crowd toward us. When he reaches us, he leans over and whispers something in Dante’s ear.
“When?” Dante says.
“Just now.”
“Go get the men. Meet me out front.” He turns to us. “Two dens have just been hit. One of ours and a White Guild one.”
“Which White Guild one?” Asher asks, his face going pale.
“Lupercalia.”