Page 58 of Up in Smoke

You like him?

Friday, June 26, 2043.

Tulsa, Oklahoma.

The Alley.

The last timeI’d seen Noah, I’d been leaving his home with a newfound awareness of the courtesan system, a bounty on my head, and many reasons to run. Had I known more about Sandro then, I would have bought something nice to wear and lured him into one of my cellars for a good time before accepting a ridiculous paycheck. Running into him on the streets of Asylum startled me, and his eyes widened when he caught sight of me.

“Oh. Noah.” I pricked my ears forward, and I pointed at Sandro. There were many ways I could handle the black market operator, but I’d take the playful route, cultivating the appearance things were more than good in my world. They were, but as I wouldn’t be paying Noah to keep his mouth shut and he no longer owed me a debt, I’d play a game, one where he believed something close to the truth with some extra enthusiasm splashed in. “You need to warn a woman when the poet is packing heat. Do you see this? Male perfection. I feel I was not sufficiently warned about his status as male perfection. If you’d told me he was the perfect man, I would have asked you to catch him for me.” I wrinkled my nose. “Not that I could have afforded the bill.”

Sandro’s brows shot up, not that I blamed him for his reaction. Normally, I demonstrated a little more restraint, but Noah was Noah—and I’d outlived my usefulness to the man. I knew it, and so did he.

I liked to think I was smart enough to recognize the moment when a friend had become a neutral party at best and an enemy at worst. Unless he ended up owing me another debt, I’d be better off treating him as an enemy who could be friendly if we happened to have the same goal in mind.

“You like him?” Noah blurted.

I blinked. “I sure as hell wouldn’t marry him if I didn’t.” While Noah had informed me of the downsides of the courtesan system, he hadn’t told me some of the important details, including how it might benefit me, how Sandro might manipulate the system to make me his—and make him mine. I expected that from the man.

He survived on secrets, he thrived on lies, and only a life debt would make me truly trust him.

He no longer owed me such a debt, and I refused to forget it.

Sandro covered his mouth and his shoulders shook. I flicked an ear back, and when he slipped and made a sound suspiciously like a giggle, I flattened both of my ears and narrowed my eyes. “And what are you laughing at, Mr. Moretti?”

“You, Mrs. Moretti.”

I rolled my eyes, forced my ears to relax, and shook my head. “Ignore him, Noah. He hasn’t gotten much praise today, and his head gets all bloated if I slip and accidentally praise him. He’s going to be insufferable for the rest of the day.”

“But I’ll make you like it because I’m male perfection, Jade,” Sandro teased.

Naughty hot ass bounty hunter. He would, too, and my fox and I wouldn’t just like it. We’d love it. “Yes, yes. That’s why you are male perfection.” I waved my hand at him. “Don’t mind him, Noah. He’s in a good mood. We’ve finally gotten enough rest after being on the road for a damned long time. We’re about to go get some self-defense beaten into us, as Sandro won’t be happy until I’m invulnerable or something.” As I had an established relationship with Noah, I turned, lifted my shirt, and showed off my scar. “And while I’m short a spleen, this says I’m a tough vixen. So far, I haven’t missed my spleen that much, but the next time I catch a cold, I have been informed I will. And I’ll probably catch the cold because I’m missing my spleen. Better the spleen than my life, so while I’ll miss it, I’m very grateful the shooter had shit aim.”

“The shooter didn’t have shit aim. If the shooter had shit aim, you wouldn’t have been hit,” Sandro grumbled.

I flicked an ear but otherwise ignored Sandro. “Have things been going well for you, Noah?”

“They have been going well enough. Are you still up top, or are you living with Mr. Moretti?”

“Well, I married him and signed a piece of paper stating in no uncertain terms his person belongs to me. As such, I make sure he stays close so he doesn’t wander off. We’re staying in Asylum right now, although I don’t know what our future plans are. Sandro has work to do, and I’m still getting back into shape. The hike here took a lot out of me.”

Anyone with a scrap of sense would believe me; my sort of injury took weeks or months to heal, and the physical therapy had a reputation of being hell afterwards.

“Still working for that Chinese guy?”

I frowned, as Batbayar was proud of his Mongolian heritage and his love of Japanese martial arts—and various branches of Chinese martial arts, too. “He’s Mongolian,” I corrected. “We’re both taking lessons, and we’re paying our keep as training examples, but I’m there more as a student than as a teacher. Sandro is hopeful the classes will help me regain my strength. I’ll be helping Brent bring new hires up to speed at the bar, but I don’t have the endurance right now to work the bar and keep up with Sandro. As it is, Sandro makes sure I’m tucked into bed at a reasonable hour because he doesn’t want me to have another setback.”

“So many setbacks,” Sandro complained, and he leveled a scowl my way. “And if you could stop finding interesting puddles to roll in, that would be nice. I swear, you just like making me groom your tail.”

I widened my eyes. “Absolutely. You’re gentle, and I like when you brush out my fur and hair. Mud puddles guarantee you’ll brush out my fur and hair. Isn’t that why I married you?”

According to Noah’s expression, the world had shifted on its axis.

Sandro’s scowl eased to a smile. “If telling yourself that makes you happy, sure, Jade. You married me because of my fur grooming skills.”

“It does help you’re generally useful. You can also cook. And if you can’t cook for me, your father cooks. I’ve established myself as the queen over all other scavengers. No matter where I go, when it comes to your family, someone will cook for me.”

“I should have known you would be easier to catch if I’d just put a steak on a stick and dangled it in front of your face,” Sandro complained.