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"I'll think about it," I said. "What will you do if the answer is no?"
He gave me a measured look. "You want to know if I'll go back and work for Dagen?"
"Will you?" He might decide Dagen would be the winner of this battle. This war. Only an idiot sided with the loser.
"Fuck that." His blunt response made me smile. "I won't rest until every last Dagen is in some part of the seven hells, even if I have to go there with them."
"So you're reckless?" I asked. "Reckless will get you killed. It also gets other people killed." I got where I was by being ruthless, not stupid.
He put his glass down on the table. "No, I'm not reckless. I am twenty years of anger looking for a direction to go. I haven't had that. Until now. With or without you, I will bring Dagen down. I just thought you might want in on it." He gave me a knowing smile, like he suspected I wouldn't turn down a challenge.
I hadn't yet.
I smiled back. "That's cute that you think I need an invitation. Or that I couldn't stop you with a flick of my wrist.
"Why stop me?" he asked. "I want what you want."
I regarded him for a moment. "You want death and destruction at any cost. If you start killing anyone in the Dagen pack, people are going to point the finger back at me, whether we are involved or not. They'll retaliate against me if they can't find you."
"You don't seem like the kind of woman who is scared of a little retaliation. Or much of anything else." His eyes lingered on my chest for a moment before he looked back in my eyes.
"I'm not," I replied coolly. "I also don't want to give Dagen the excuse to attack us."
"It's cute that you think he needs an excuse," Hutton said. The guy was getting more cocky by the moment.
"Did he send you?" I asked.
Hutton's face turned a fascinating shade of pink. He rubbed hard at his scar with the tip of his finger.
"No. He fucking did not. If I was anywhere near Alastair Dagen, one of us would be dead. Or both. Is that what you want? Do I have to bring his head to you on a silver platter to prove whose side I'm on?"
That sounded pretty fucking perfect to me. As if to punctuate Hutton's question, the woman on the couch near us came loudly. I turned my head to watch. She straddled one guy, while another was frantically thrusting at her rear hole.
"I think she likes the idea," I remarked.
"She certainly likes something," he agreed. "Those are some life goals right there." He gave me a look that was half suggestive, but laced with the tension of our conversation. He was clearly the kind of guy who took shit seriously, even when he wanted to joke around or flirt.
"For her, or for you?" I cocked my head at him and raised an eyebrow.
"Both," he agreed. "For one thing, she has two friends. I only have one." His eyes lingered on me.
I sipped my water. "We're friends now?"
"Friends. Allies. Whatever you want to call it. Hells, I'll even settle for fuck buddies."
I wasn't sure if the obvious erection in front of his pants was because of me, or where we were. Maybe both. This part of Crimson had that effect on people. That was one of the reasons I liked it so much. If you could stay cool and focused in a room full of people fucking, then there was hope for you.
"You know how to flatter a girl, don't you?" I said dryly.
"Honestly," he said, "I don't have a fucking clue. Dagen women are toxic. Ivory Claw women don't want to know me. I would freak the shit out of human women. Witches scare the shit out of me. Demons too."
"That doesn't leave much," I remarked.
"Yeah." He shrugged. "That's the consequences of doing bad shit, I suppose. It's lonely at the bottom." He hesitated for a moment before he added, "It's probably not that different for you. I bet you scare the crap out of every man you meet."
"Are you scared?" I asked.
"Hells yeah," he admitted. "Of course I am. Everyone here looks like they're having a good time, but I know I could be dead before I took two steps if you wanted."
