The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(58)

"Ro-oo." I grit my teeth as Poppy sidled in under his arm. "Everyone was wondering where you got to." She didn't dignify my presence.

I made a show of straightening my skirt and fixing my hair. "Be gentle with him, sugar," I said. "Poor boy is spent." Yeah, now she noticed me, eyes darting between Rohan and myself. I leaned into him as if I was going to kiss him. His eyes widened slightly. Right before my lips brushed his, I turned my cheek, pushing past him with a, "Thanks for the ride, baby."

I swaggered off.

I really thought I'd picked an easy lay. Hot boy. Good sex. Players have fun playing. Instead he'd shot my finely honed plans to hell with prophetic-sounding song lyrics, a connection that gave the finger to our casual hook-up, and game playing at the championship level that had morphed into mutual anger and hurt. To make matters worse, our personal mess was leaching into our professional lives.

I took a moment to compose myself before approaching Samson. Deep in conversation with some couple, he wasn't ready to leave but didn't seem to care much one way or the other what I did. Guess I'd served my payback purpose.

Drio offered to cab back to the hotel with me, claiming that five more minutes and he'd unleash his inner psychopath. A level of self-awareness I had no idea he possessed.

I asked the driver to turn up the music, pretending to love the rock ballad playing. Then I lay my head on Drio's shoulder so I could speak quietly to him. "What was with the cigar?"

"Once we get King's true name, there's a ritual we can do to force his demon form. We needed his DNA in prep and tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity to get it."

"How does the ritual work? Do you take him out right then and there? If we're right about him?"



       
         
       
        

"Sì. Once we force his demon form, we use the ritual blade to kill him."

"What about the production? Won't they wonder why their lead has gone missing?"

The driver eyed us in the rearview mirror. Drio slung his arm around my shoulder, like a conscientious boyfriend. "Those party photos may prove useful," Drio said. "We could stage an OD."

"Without a body?" There'd be nothing left of Samson once we killed him.

"Morrison's body was never seen," Drio said. "Not that he was a demon," he added at my wide-eyed stare. "Just that there's precedence. Besides, Samson's death will probably boost the box office when Hard Knock Strife gets released. It's a shitty film."

Drio pressed the button to roll down his window, sending a hint of cool air into the stuffy backseat. Passing streetlights sent slivers of light over us.

"Wrap is Tuesday," he said. "We could wait the three days. Less of a freak out from production than if they still have to shoot. One less item to manage."

"I can make sure Samson gets trashed at the cast party," I said. "That could help keep him off guard when we lure him to his doom."

"You can't be anywhere near his death." Drio was dead serious. "Not even a hint of it. The media will be asking enough questions about the mystery women in those photos and we don't want you caught up in the scandal."

I opened my mouth to protest but Drio stopped me. "Don't give Mandelbaum more ammunition."

Him having my back like this was a huge step forward between us.

The cab pulled up to the hotel. I pulled out my wallet to pay but Drio waved me off, so I got out. "Thank you. For everything." I shut the door.

Drio immediately rolled down the window. "Rohan had to get drunk tonight. He knew Samson would show up."

"Part of his performance. Big deal."

Drio shook his head. "The only way he'd be able to behave like his old self again."

"Really? Seemed like he fell right into it." I dropped my eyes under the chastising look Drio shot me.

He was quieter when he spoke this time. Musing. "I think it was also the only way he could pretend he wasn't attached."

When I looked up with a harsh laugh, Drio was watching me, his steady green-eyed gaze unnerving. "It's not attachment." I fiddled with my clutch. "It's chemistry and fucked-up power games."

"He has your back."

"I know, but that's not the same." Not like he meant.

"Okay." He rolled up the window, capitulating so easily that I knew he was humoring me. 





17





Lack of a full night's sleep plus emotional fuckery led to me crashing the second my head hit the pillow.

Waking up on Sunday morning having had more of an extended nap than a proper rest was all sorts of hideous. Groaning, I cracked an eye open, blinking through the glueyness. I stumbled into the bathroom, cranked the shower to frigid, and scrunching up my face, hopped in.