Jude glares at me. “Doesn’t fucking look like it. He’s got his sweaty hands around your neck like he’s about to snap it. Now I don’t give a fuck if he does, but Lor will throw a fit if you die before he gets home from skiing.”
I roll my eyes again. I can’t help it.
Rich. Prick. Schoolboys.
Lord. Give me strength.
The sound of a bullet exploding wakes me the fuck up. Adrenaline surges. I whip my head around. Jude’s gun is smoking but no one appears to be hurt.
“I think you missed,” says Dante.
“That was a warning. Get your hand off her.”
My old mentor unwraps his hand from around my neck and pulls away, hands held up like he’s playing along. The space between us is enough room for me to walk over to where Jude is. I exhale and do just that. I can’t let Jude get caught now. If I’m surprised at Dante complying with Jude’s command, I don’t show it.
As we’re leaving, Jude, the damn idiot, steps forward and snatches the chain from Dante’s hand. I sigh and exit onto the street. No reason to hang around. My private chat with Dante isn’t going to happen now.
Jude follows quickly, taking my arm. He escorts me to his car. My own car is around here somewhere but he doesn’t give me any choice. He yanks open the door and jostles me into the passenger seat, and then shuts me inside. In a heartbeat, he’s opening the driver’s side and getting behind the wheel. The screeching of car tires fills my eardrums. Jude is driving like Evil Incarnate is on our tail.
Maybe he is?
I flick my gaze to the rearview mirror. There are no headlights. The road behind us seems pretty clear. Although I don’t believe that for a second. I glance at Jude, waiting for him to speak first but he doesn’t. He looks like shit. His hair is a mess. There’s a sheen of sweat along his brow. His jaw is clenched tight and his eyes are wild, staring straight ahead. He looks like he’s done a shit load of drugs.
Could he be having a bad trip?
His eyes catch mine as he drives. Despite his disheveled appearance, he still manages to look goddamn sexy as hell. Fucking hell. How did I get so screwed?
“Now we’re even,” he says in a gruff tone.
My brow arches beautifully. “Excuse me?”
“I saved you back there. He was about to kill you.” He takes one hand off the wheel while doing 95 down the motorway to run it through his hair. “Why the fuck would you put yourself in that position anyway? I thought you were some hotshot assassin?”
“He wasn’t going to kill me.”
“Like fuck he wasn’t”
“That was just foreplay.”
“Foreplay? You fucking him too?”
“I’d have to actually be fucking someone for there to be a ‘too’, don’t you think?” I ask, settling back into the bucket seat of Jude’s over-powered sports car. He’s veering all over the road as he shifts his gaze between me and the road like he doesn’t trust me not to jump him. It’s almost comical. Any minute we’re going to be pulled over.
“Want me to drive?” I ask, helpfully.
“Like fuck. You’re not to breathe on this car, let alone touch it. Just stay in your seat and don’t move.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, holding my hands up, making Jude look my way again.
“And don’t try anything,” he adds.
“Why would I try something?” I sigh. Whereas Vice is a cheeky shit, and Duke is cold stone angry all the time, Jude is always half paranoid I’m out to get him.
“Just don’t. I’m warning you.”
Exhaling again, I glance in the wing mirror. Behind us, low beam lights flicker in and out of the darkness until there’s nothing but pitch black. I turn around to get a better look. The shape of something moving on the road sticks out against the early morning sky. Not just any car—a brown mustang.
“How good are you at losing a tail? Any better than you are at shooting?” I ask Jude.