Page 96 of Taste of Blood
Asher.
Half of me wants to ignore it. Pretend I didn’t see it.
The other half keeps going back to that scene in the warehouse earlier. How he stood up to Dante.
No one stands up to Dante.
The big man didn’t say anything more about it when I stopped to give him the rundown on my latest session with the prisoners. He wasn’t happy to learn the Python had more than one hangout, and that none of his people had ever seen him.
“How the fuck are we supposed to find this guy?” he demanded.
Since I didn’t have an answer for that, I just gave him a status of the prisoners.
“Two are dead and the third has a rotting hole in his gut. I would’ve put him down but I wasn’t sure if you wanted another crack at him.”
“Do you think it’s worth it?” he asked.
“Not really. I don’t think he knows any more than his buddies.”
Dante agreed and sent two guys down to take care of the bodies while I said my goodbyes and called it a night.
Which leaves me sitting here in the rain. Every instinct is telling me to ignore the text. Put it and this Python business out of my mind and go home. Get some sleep in my own bed. Worry about all this other crap in the morning.
So why am I hesitating?
Why else?
Asher.
It always comes back to him.
“I’ll be up late, if you want to stop by.”
Why am I even considering it?
And I am.
I shouldn’t be. No matter how many times I tell myself I don’t want this again, I keep spinning back in his orbit. Why do I let him do this to me?
Although, if I’m being honest, I’m the one doing it to myself. I see him everywhere I go. In every face. Hell, I can’t even feed without thinking of him.
He’s driving me insane and it has to stop.
Trouble is, I don’t know how to make it. I’ve told him to stay away. I’ve gone out of my way to avoid him, but we just keep ending up together.
And now the one place I had to myself, where I knew he wouldn’t go, has been invaded by his presence.
Whose fault is that?
Okay, so I invited him here.
For someone who claims he doesn’t want him, I sure am having a hard time pushing him away.
And now he wants to talk.
About what?
Someone knocks on my window, pulling me out of my head. I roll it down enough to talk without getting soaked and see Zeke standing there.
