He shrugged and I blinked. What was his deal? Bi or balls-deep dedication to demon killing?
"That won't be happening." Rohan's tone about my up-close-and-personal involvement brooked no argument.
His voice broke me out of the fantasies I was spinning about Drio getting hot and heavy with other Rasha. Like Rohan. Could that be their weird shared history? My clit, Cuntessa de Spluge, throbbed her vote for "please yes."
"Sure it will. If that's what it takes." Drio's voice was just as hard. He tipped his chair back on to two legs, one foot braced on the arm of the nearest couch. "She's Rasha. Let her do her job."
"Actually," I said, "maybe I could be a member of your entourage without being a groupie."
Both the men laughed outright.
I planted my hands on my hips. "Is it such a stretch that a straight, breathing female with an iota of a sex drive might not want to be servicing Mr. Rock God on a regular basis?"
Shut up, Nava, because they're laughing harder and you're not making your case.
I eyed Drio's wobbling chair, so tempted to upend him. "I'm sure there are lots of other options that would still allow me to Mata Hari my way into Samson's life."
Drio's feet thudded onto the floor. He pinned me in his gaze, his green eyes hard emeralds. "You're there for one reason. Bait. Get Samson interested and get him to work his demon mojo on you so we have proof. That's it. We go with the simplest explanation for your presence and you play that part." He looked at Rohan as if daring him to disagree.
Rohan gave a tight nod. He pushed his sleeves up, revealing the fat silver bracelet with what looked like a stylized "30" inlaid in onyx. He'd been wearing it ever since he'd gone back into his rock star persona. It was supposed to be some kind of talisman, something he'd received before his first tour. At least according to the Fugue State Five message board I'd researched it on.
"Straightforward is best," he said. "You don't reveal yourself. No deaths on this one, okay?"
"Not on my agenda."
Drio tossed me some photos from the coffee table. Given his leer, this did not bode well. "Coloring, looks, build, you're what Samson likes. Mold your undercover persona to that."
Since I needed to go to Prague to meet Dr. Gelman, I pasted a smile on my face and thought "team player." I studied the photos. Drio was right. I did fit the bill. "Luckily for you, you've got just the badass sexpot for the job."
"Sexpot." Drio raked a skeptical gaze over my T-shirt and jeans. "Got anything sluttier?"
Electricity sparked out of my eyes. "Not skanky enough for you, am I?"
Rohan tapped the photos. "It's not us. It's Samson. He prefers short and tight."
Drio warmed to the theme. "One of those dresses with the zipper running the length for easy access. Stick with red and black. Thigh-high stiletto boots."
I waited for them to laugh, because seriously? But they weren't kidding. Rohan fired his fingers like a gun at Drio. "Good idea. You got some?" he asked me.
"Yeah. Tucked away in my closet. I keep them spruced up for my higher-end street corner jaunts."
"Expense them to the Brotherhood if you need a pair." Rohan noted something down, I swear as an excuse not to laugh, because he was biting his lip.
"She'll have to expense a whole wardrobe if she's going to get his attention." Drio looked at me doubtfully. "Try not to speak. It'll ruin the effect."
"I'll dress up real sexy," I said in a breathy voice. I snapped my fingers. "I know. If I shouldn't talk, maybe you could provide a penismobile. I could writhe on the hood to a little heavy metal."
"He's more a rap –"
"Fuck off, Drio. I know how to get a guy's attention."
"Ro is hard up," he said.
"Hey!" Rohan and I protested at the same time.
Drio shrugged.
"You'll need a different name," Rohan said. "Something with the same initials so it's easy to remember." He steepled his fingers together. "What about Nicole Kane? Nikki for short?"
Nikki the car-writhing automaton was never going to happen. "Sounds good. I'll put on my big girl pants and make you proud."
The guys chuffed up, pleased at my can-do attitude. I followed them to the library, the photos tucked under my arm and my brain whirring at how to make this assignment more palatable.
Drio and Rohan sat down at the long mahogany table that spanned the back wall under the large windows looking out onto the back garden. Usually tidy, the table was currently a hurricane of papers, photos, and file folders. The thick green curtains were drawn open, allowing misty light into the room. At least the rain had let up.