Page 68 of Cozen

The guy shook his head. “No—a second one called this in right after the first order was placed.”

“No note, then?”

“No note,” the man echoed.

Cozen didn’t need a note.

She knew.

Sargon sent it.

Of course, he did.

Sargon looked up from the ground just in time to see a cab pull up to the sidewalk. A scene he had been watching play out for a while as the club he had come to was packed full, and seemed to be a popular spot.

The woman inside the cab—looking ten shades of disgusted and ready to get the hell out of the vehicle—was not entirely unexpected, either.

Sargon lifted an eyebrow, and took a drag off his smoke as Cozen threw a handful of bills over the seats in the cab. It was almost as if she didn’t want to touch the cab, or anything inside it. Not even the money she was paying the guy.

“Keep the change, asshole,” Sargon heard her say as she stepped out of the car.

Cozen didn’t wait to hear the guy’s response because she wasted no time slamming the passenger door closed. Her heels clicked against the wet pavement as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

The cool May air wrapped around Sargon, but he barely felt it at all beneath his silk dress shirt and slacks. He supposed the club had been hot enough to chase the Devil out from the heat. Cozen, on the other hand, shivered a bit.

All she had on was a long-sleeved, mid-thigh wool dress, and knee-high boots. Part of him was glad she hadn’t thought to throw on a coat or something because that dress hugged all of her curves in the most sinful way. It draped along her body, sure, but moved with it, too. Each step closer to the club she took was damn near mesmerizing.

She was not used to the New York cold, he bet.

Neither was he, really.

The cab peeled away from the sidewalk with screeching tires, making Cozen shoot a look over her shoulder at the disappearing checkered black and yellow car. The narrowing of her eyes said she felt the same way he did about a lot of people in New York—some people in this city could really be something else sometimes.

Manners were nonexistent.

“Can’t say I have seen you use a cab,” he said before he could stop himself. “Why use one tonight?”

Cozen’s head whipped back around, and she quickly found Sargon half tucked into the side alley next to the Little Odessa club. Sargon flashed her a smile when her russet eyes looked him over. Unashamed, and curious, her gaze drifted from his legs to his face before her tongue peeked out to wet her bottom lip.

His slacks tightened around his growing cock. She had no idea what she could do to him with just a look. She had no fucking idea how little control he had when it came to her. Especially if her pretty little mouth was involved.

Yeah, he had a fascination with her mouth. He blamed the way she let him fuck her mouth, and smiled when he was done with her, too. His fascination had turned to obsession just as fast, and now this woman was constantly playing on repeat during his late nights when he couldn’t sleep.

Sargon was so fucked.

Entirely fucked.

“I guess you would know, wouldn’t you?” Cozen asked.

Sargon took a hard drag from a mostly-gone cigarette, and eyed her curiously. “What do you mean, Zen?”

“You would know that I don’t use cabs. Or at least, not very often. Considering you follow me around on a daily basis.”

A husky chuckle escaped his lips. “Figured that out, did you?”

“I figured it out yesterday when you brought me Jett’s gift. I knew he had someone tailing me—I can feel you watching me. I didn’t know it was you until yesterday.”

“You don’t know that it was me, woman. It could have been any of his—”