Page 94 of Fury

Everywhere blood.

My throat burned the momentI saw him sitting at the bar.

He noticed me immediately, his light colored eyes flaring then narrowing as I approached him. Recognition. Suspicion. In a graceful yet tight movement, his head slanted and he brought the thin dark cigarette that burned between his fingers to his mouth and inhaled deeply, his piercing eyes on me. The Mercenary Prince of the Night.

“Turo.”

Those eyes glinted with a dark sort of amusement. He exhaled the fragrant smoke and sat up straighter. “Ashley.”

My heart banged in my chest, my stomach churning with acid. I ignored the discomfort. “Could I talk to you?”

“Please do.” He pulled out the chair next to him. I sat down.

“Aaron—” He gestured at the bartender who immediately set a bulbous wine glass before me and filled it halfway with an amethyst liquid.

My eyes met Turo’s and my insides knotted. He was waiting, he was fascinated. I was making my debut on the stage. “I need to ask you for help.”

He said nothing. Only brought his wine glass to his lips and drank. My words hung in the air between us, fading quickly like mist.

Turo placed his glass carefully on the bar top. “You’re coming to me for a favor?”

I needed help from a professional. I couldn’t go to Tania. Absolutely not. I’d love to run to her and burrow myself in one of her tight hugs and snuggle on her sofa with a cup of tea and a blanket and pretend none of this had happened.

But it had happened. And I was a realist.

I couldn’t contact Finger. He hadn’t called me or texted or anything since he’d given the signal that day. And anyway, wherever he was, odds were he was too far away to be able to dash over to Chicago and deal with a dead body for his secret girlfriend. Furthermore, I didn’t want him to have his hands dirtied with Smoking Gun blood. I didn’t want him implicated in anything that would ruin his career, his life.

I’d never met Turo before, but I’d seen him from afar once or twice when he’d picked up Ciara at the store, waiting for her across the street, a solemn statue of a man. Tonight I’d found him at his favorite restaurant in Bucktown. A trendy Mediterranean-French type bistro with low lighting and lots of candles in small wooden lanterns. Ciara had mentioned to me that they met here every Thursday night for a drink andmezebefore going out for the evening. Thursday night was their night. It was early and I knew Ciara worked late on Thursdays, so I took a chance and went to the restaurant. He was notoriously punctual and Ciara was always racing to meet him on time at their various rendezvous. She usually failed miserably. I desperately needed her to fail tonight.

“Try the wine,” he said.

Taking in a tight breath, I raised the delicate glass and sipped. His heavy gaze remained on me as he exhaled a long, long stream of smoke, immediately crushing his cigarette in an ashtray. He peeled the glass out of my shaky, damp hand and set it back on the bar.

“This is between you and me. I don’t want Ciara to know,” I said, savoring the smooth wine in my mouth. Its silky warmth was civilized, soothing, and loosened the knot pinching my insides.

He leaned into me, his expensive citrusy Italian cologne filling the air between us. Ciara showed me the bottle once at Barney’s. I’d been impressed. “Ciara doesn’t know a lot of things,” he said. “Let’s hear it.”

“I was being followed.”

“Past tense? Do you know him?”

I would avoid that question for now. “He broke into my apartment today.”

Turo’s face stiffened. “Did he rob you? Do damage?”

“He tried. He tried to do damage to me,” my voice broke.

“Ash—” A warm hand gently cradled my chin, an arm went around the back of my chair. “Ash, look at me.”

My body shook, and he took me in his embrace, but it only made me colder. “Tell me now. Whisper it in my ear,” he said against my hair, his breath warm against my neck.

“I killed him,” I whispered, making my nightmare real.

“You killed him?” His lips brushed my earlobe, and a shiver raced over my skin.

“Yes.”

He pulled back from me and laughed.

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