The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(37)

"Not getting much work these days." Samson fired back another vodka shot. "You've been out of the loop so you might not have heard."

"The girls," Rohan said, without missing a beat.

Samson gave Rohan an appraising look. Rohan's bland expression didn't change. Two sharks circling each other, scenting for first blood. "Yeah. You probably ran into that. Teens looking like they were twenty-five." Samson spread his hands wide, like what are you gonna do?

"I did. But then again, I was a teen. Even so, I never screwed fifteen-year-olds." A hot thread of anger laced his voice.

Samson smirked. "You sure? I'm betting you didn't stop the action to do an ID check."

"I'm sure."



       
         
       
        

Samson clapped Rohan on the back. "Good man."

My eyes swung to Rohan to see how he'd react to such blatant condescension. All he did was take a swig of his beer.

I wasn't the only one who'd been watching the exchange, because with perfect timing, Drio showed up. "Ro, I'm freezing my balls off. Let's find somewhere better, man." I doubted I'd ever get used to that accent coming out of him.

"He's right. I'm over the tundra," Samson announced. "I've got just the place." He gestured to Rohan. "Unless you want to suggest something."

"Go for it."

"It's walkable," Samson said. There was a flurry of activity as we returned the jackets in addition to the normal leaving-a-bar discussion about who was going to this new venue versus who wanted to head somewhere else.

I stomped my feet, trying to get some feeling back into them while the debates raged. About half the group decided to follow Samson, with Poppy welded to Rohan's side.

A security detail had appeared the moment we left the bar. Three "don't fuck with us" men with granite carved jaws and constantly scanning eyes, who fell into a triangular formation around Samson and Rohan. The rest of us were expendable.

The sky was overcast and the wind caused goosebumps on my bare legs, but it was still a lot warmer than the ice bar. I jammed my hands in my pockets, enjoying the lively streets. Everyone high on possibility and good cheer. As for myself, I fell farther and farther back in the group, too busy rubbernecking.

Enough people rubbernecked right back, phones flashing, that Samson, at least, had been recognized, but the bodyguards kept the group moving at a fast clip and no one dared approach.

A group of boisterous Brits celebrating a bachelor party came toward us, singing off-key. The T-shirts they wore marked them as members of "Dave's Stag!" complete with a grainy photo of Dave flying over Prague Castle. One of the guys knocked into my shoulder as he passed.

I wobbled, my heel snagging on the cobblestone. Drio reached out to steady me under the elbow. Dude tossed out a drunken, "Sorry," and stumbled after his friends.

"Thanks," I said to Drio. I lifted up my stiletto. Scratched but not broken. "How's your night going?"

"It's already four years of my life I'll never get back."

I laughed and Drio grinned at me. Not his sadistic one. I clutched my heart in shock. "Careful, psycho. I might think you like me."

I wiggled my fingers to lose the residual prickly tingling from Chill.

"Don't worry. I don't." He leaned in, dropping the American accent. "Though I'm very curious about what you're up to." 

"Pretensions of royalty. Power plays." I looked up at the sky, in this ancient city spinning out before me and despite the circumstances, felt content. "Ever believe that life was going to work out exactly as you wanted?"

"No."

"Me neither." Not for a long time, anyway. I looked up ahead at Rohan and Samson. At their heads, one dark, one blond, as they chatted. "But I think for tonight, I just might." I flipped a loose curl out of my eyes. "Back to work."

I picked up the pace, intent on displacing Poppy. Should have brought dynamite.

Samson flicked me an unreadable look as I linked arms with his Douchebag minion. "Why, hello," I drawled.

"Hey," Douchebag replied, half his attention on a text.

Samson's other minion, Jittery shot me a weaselly grin and a chin jerk.

I winked at him, then squeezed Douchebag's bicep.

"Like what you see?" he leered.

"I bet you do your own stunts, don't you?" This was said loud enough to carry.

Samson smirked, but Rohan, bless him, knew exactly what I was up to. He stopped dead in his tracks. "Lolita."

I raised an eyebrow at him. Rohan dropped Poppy like a hot potato to fetch me. Yes, I'm just that amazing that rock gods fall over themselves to stay in my good graces. It took everything I had not to bust out laughing.