by Bethany-Kris
Waving two fingers at the male bartender, Sargon then pointed down at his empty glass. “One more, thanks.”
“You got it, man.” Spinning the bottle in a way that Sargon supposed was interesting—if playing dangerously with top shelf liquor was amusing to some people—the bartender came his way. Once his next drink was poured, the guy said, “You drinking something away, or what?”
Sargon muttered, “Or something.”
A blonde woman with a short red dress came up to the other end of the bar, and just like that, the bartender’s attention was gone from Sargon. Something better—prettier—had come along to catch his attention.
Not that Sargon minded.
He wasn’t in the mood to be sharing his troubles, anyway. Not with some random stranger behind a bar pouring his drinks. Besides, he didn’t even have a fucking reason to be troubled, considering.
Except he did …
Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Sargon’s gaze narrowed in on where he was supposed to be watching. He hadn’t been watching them since they came into the restaurant, actually. Who the fuck was going to bother them in here?
Sargon found Jett and Cozen tucked away in the far corner of the restaurant. Shadowed by dim lights, and blocked partially by a partition wall. Still, he could see enough.
Of her, that was.
He could only see Jett from the shoulders up.
Cozen, however, was mostly in full view but for the dim lighting. Sargon could see her smile, though, and the purple dress that hugged her young curves. Those black heels on her feet did a real number for her legs.
Smooth legs. Her skin was a shade lighter than olive, but fuck him if he didn’t think they still had that creamy quality, too. Had it been him with that woman, the last thing he would have done was hide her away in a dimly lit corner where she couldn’t be properly seen by those around them.
No.
He would show her off.
On his arm.
It’s what a beauty like her deserved.
Nothing less.
Sargon wasn’t entirely sure what it was about Cozen that got to him. Something about her had claws—they’d dug into his skin, and burrowed inside his body with a few passing words, and one too many lingering looks.
The woman couldn’t be older than her mid-twenties—at most. What was she doing with a man in his fifties?
Sargon wasn’t foolish. He knew all too well that there were women willing to forgo their preferences in men simply to get a hand into a bank account. He didn’t think that was the case with Cozen because she genuinely seemed interested in Jett.
And then, in their quick moments alone, she had also seemed struck and caught by Sargon. He was not a dumb man. He saw the way she looked at him, and felt how her heart picked up at nothing more than his touch.
He wondered how fast he might get her heart racing if he could get the chance to sink his teeth in her neck while he fucked her from—
“Sorry about that, man,” said the bartender.
Sargon blinked out of his less than innocent thoughts to find the bartender was back. This time, the man had no bottle or fancy trick to show. Instead, the guy wiped the bar top down with a rag as he talked.
About Sargon.
“Anyway, don’t think I forgot because a lady came up,” the guy said. “Men have to look out for each other, huh? What’s up?”
Great.
Now Sargon’s life was being condensed to cliché moments.
The weary barkeep, and the drunk he entertained.
The rich man, and the girl he couldn’t have.
Sargon shook his head, and pushed the shot glass across the bar to the man. “Not in the mood to talk, now, but thank you anyway.”
The bartender shrugged his shoulders. “Up to you, man.”
Frankly, Sargon needed to take his place again before Jett noticed he had left it. Not that the older man would mind, really. Jett tended to be pretty laid back as long as he wasn’t outside when one of his men wandered off for a few minutes.
Sargon was still new.
He figured—why push it?
Right, that’s what you figured. It’s not the pretty piece of ass with the interestingly strange name, killer smile, russet eyes, and legs for days that’s making you want to get back there. Not at all.
Sargon ignored his taunting inner voice, and turned around on the barstool. He didn’t get up right away, instead choosing to look back at the table, and see if he even was needed over there. It didn’t look like it, considering Jett and Cozen were still chatting away.
Actually, laughing about something.
Jett reached across the table, and stroked Cozen’s cheek with two fingers. Sargon had no doubt the man was complimenting her, then. Women loved their compliments, and they craved the feeling of being wanted by someone amazing.
Was Jett amazing?
Not really.
A dime a dozen in New York.
Minus the criminal thing, of course.
Still, at the sight of Cozen’s demure smile from the touch—and whatever words Jett had told her—that burning feeling was back in Sargon’s gut. Hot, heavy, and fast. Devastating, really, like a punch hard enough to his gut that it made him bleed from the inside.
Jealous.
Again.
Jesus.
He really needed to get this shit under control somehow. This was bad for him—bad for the job. He didn’t need to find himself dead and in a makeshift grave because he couldn’t control his baser urges.
Sargon’s attention snapped back to the spot it was supposed to be as Cozen stood from the table. She smoothed down her dress, and nodded at Jett before simpering him with another one of those sweet smiles. Then, she quickly turned and headed in the direction of the bathrooms.
Jett didn’t wait more than two seconds before his gaze swept the restaurant. Once he found Sargon sitting at the bar, Jett waved his hand subtly.
A silent order to come his way.
At the moment, going to Jett was the last thing Sargon wanted to do, but he forced himself off the stool. It was the longest ten seconds of his life to cross the floor before he leaned over the partition wall keeping his boss mildly protected.
“Yes?” Sargon asked.
Jett pointed in the direction Cozen had gone. “Twenty-five. Cozen Grace Taylor. Born in Vermont.”
Sargon blinked.
That’s what Jett had been doing?
Plying information from her all night?
“What do you want me to do with that information?” Sargon asked.
“I have a busy couple of weeks. I will give you the name of my contacts who pull information for me, and you can call this in for me, and handle it. I want you to get information on the woman. Whatever you can find, bring it to me.”
Sargon cleared his throat, and his gaze drifted in the direction Cozen had left. “What, do you not trust her, or something?”
“I don’t trust anyone,” Jett muttered, chuckling. “But no, mostly, I like her. And so, I have to know about her.”
“Like her,” Sargon echoed.
“She’s fascinating.”
To say the least …
Sargon stayed a few paces behind Jett and Cozen as the two took a stroll down Fifth Avenue. He was far enough behind them that he couldn’t hear their conversation, yet still close enough that he could step in should he need to.
Cozen kept her hand tucked into Jett’s arm as he pointed at a statue they passed, and she laughed.
For the nearly three weeks that Sargon had worked for Jett, he did not know the man to casually take walks in the middle of the city. He much preferred to be chauffeured to and from wherever he was going.
Personal preference.
Safety, too.
Sargon was lost to his thoughts, and starting to wish he was anywhere but there, when a ringing phone brought him back to reality with a bang. He damn near slammed into Jett and Cozen before he realized the two had stopped walking.
&
nbsp; It only took a quick look from Jett for Sargon to put the distance back between them once more, but not the same amount as before. He could now hear what Jett was saying on the phone, and it sounded like this date was going to be cut short.
Thank God for small miracles.
“Right now?” Jett asked.
Cozen passed a look to Sargon—questioning. He only shrugged, and looked across the street to give the two some semblance of privacy.
Not that it mattered.
“Really, Silas?” Jett snapped.
Silas—Jett’s oldest son—was a lot like his father in many ways. In too deep with bad people, and distrustful of everyone around him. Sargon spent less than ten minutes in the man’s presence, and wished it had been less.
Some people just had that effect on others.
“Fine, yes,” Jett said after a few seconds, “I will be there in thirty minutes. No, no … tell him to stay where he is. I will handle it. I told you not to put your opinion in on this. That deal is going to be a big one for us.”
Jett wasted no time hanging up on his oldest son, and Sargon brought his attention back to his boss for the moment.
“I’m sorry,” Jett told Cozen, “but this is where I have to say goodbye for the night.”
Cozen frowned.
It was genuine—or it looked like it.
In her eyes, though, Sargon swore he saw relief.
Or was he wishing to see that?
“Shame,” Cozen said, smiling a little. “I thought you were going to show me around a little more. I was looking forward to it.”
Jett laughed, and reached out to stroke Cozen’s cheek like he had back at the restaurant. This time, she used her hand to cover his, and wrap her fingers around his hand. Jett’s gaze never left Cozen as he spoke, and she didn’t seem to mind keeping her attention entirely on him, either.
Christ.
That strange jealousy burned inside Sargon again. This shit was getting out of control. What was wrong with him?
“I promise I will show you around another evening,” Jett promised. “And you, too. I will show you off on another evening.”
Cozen’s smile widened to show off teeth. “Sounds like a plan.”
Jett nodded, and then looked to Sargon with a wave in his direction. “I will have Sargon take you home, and I will have my other men come with me. I have no doubt Sargon will look after you, and make sure you get home safe and sound.”
She gazed at Sargon for the briefest second before going back to Jett. “Whatever you like, Jett.”
As fast as the evening had begun, it seemed like it was now over. Jett moved closer to Cozen, and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. She didn’t turn her head to offer anything more, and Jett didn’t try for something else, either.
Still, the jealousy raged.
Sargon seethed.
And he had no idea why.
“Have a good evening,” Jett murmured to Cozen, “and thank you for keeping me company.”
“I will see you on Monday at the restaurant, right?”
“Twelve sharp.”
Cozen winked. “Sounds like a plan.”
Jett took a large step back from Cozen, and raised his hand toward the street. Within seconds, a black town car had pulled up next to the man, and he slipped inside without a word. But not before he gave Sargon a pointed look.
A silent order.
Sargon heard it loud and clear.
It was only once Jett was gone that Cozen finally turned to him with her face a mask of nothingness. The smiles and twinkling eyes she had been wearing all night were now gone, and instead, an expressionless doll stared back at him.
“Exhausting, is it?” Sargon asked.
He had no business doing so.
Cozen’s mask slipped as she cocked a brow. “What is?”
“Pretending.”
Fire flashed in her sharp gaze, but just as quick as it came on, it was gone. She didn’t entertain his question or statement, but he didn’t really need her to. That glint in her eye had been more than enough to tell him what he needed to know.
The girl was pretending.
Just enough, apparently.
But for what?
“I guess you’re the one stuck with taking me home, Sargon,” Cozen muttered.
Sargon smirked, and for the first time all night, he didn’t mind being close to this woman. At least, not now that it was just them alone. “I wouldn’t describe it as being stuck, no.”
“Hmm.”
He gestured back the way they had come. “The car left for me is this way.”
“Great.”
Sargon let Cozen move in to step with him before he snagged her arm, and tucked her hand into his elbow. At first, she tried to tug her hand back, but he held firm and refused to let her go.
“What are you doing?” she asked, eyes flashing with indignation.
“Keeping you safe. It’s what Jett wants.”
Her lips flattened from their pretty bow-shape into a grim line. “I don’t think he means this close, actually.”
Sargon glanced down at her—she wasn’t very much shorter than his six foot three in her heels—and lifted a brow. The sweet pink flush had colored up her neck just beneath the collar of her trench coat, and he could see her pulse racing in her throat just below her skin.
“He’s going to look in to your history,” Sargon murmured.
Cozen stiffened a bit. “Is he?”
“Do you have something to hide, Cozen?”
Her laughter came out musical as people blew by them on the street. “Don’t we all have skeletons in our closet?”
“Some bones are harder to find than others.”
“Only if there’s bones left behind.”
Sargon smiled—she had a damn good point. “I’ll be the one tasked with looking in to your history. You could save me a bit of trouble, and let me know what I’m going to find here and now.”
“Is that your way of trying to pry personal information out of me?”
“Perhaps.”
Cozen gave him a look, but he saw the amusement dancing in her eyes. “I’ll take my chances, Sargon.”
“Your call, woman.”
The two walked in silence until Sargon had found his vehicle from earlier. He helped Cozen into the back seat, but before he closed the door, he once again caught her staring at him.
Not in distain.
Not in irritation.
No, in interest.
He smiled. “Something on your mind?”
“Should there be, Sargon?”
“You tell me.”
Cozen shook her head, and then glanced away. “I don’t think so.”
“Shame. I know I told you this already, but it deserves a second mention. You really do look beautiful, Cozen. The most beautiful woman in New York at the moment. It’s too bad you spent your night with a man who didn’t understand you deserved to be showcased first, and not a promise of more.”
Her head snapped back in his direction, and the interest in her eyes had changed to something else entirely. Something that looked a hell of a lot like lust.
“Is that so?” she whispered.
“I never say things I don’t mean.”
Sargon closed the passenger door before he said something else. Or rather … did something else.
“You don’t have to walk me right to my door,” Cozen grumbled half-heartedly over her shoulder.
Sargon simply lifted a brow, but said nothing else in response. He lingered a step behind her as she climbed the flights of stairs to her apartment. All the while, occasionally throwing words at him like she wanted him to respond.
Or maybe to see if he would.
Sargon was trying to control his nonsense. Nothing more. That meant keeping his mouth shut, regardless of what he was screaming inside.
Sargon stepped up to the door for Cozen’s hallway as she reached for the handle, and quickly pulled the door open before she could.
“Th
anks,” she said, strolling past him.
“It’s what a gentleman does—or so someone told me once.”
That caught her attention.
He was not good at this keeping quiet thing, clearly.
“Who is this someone?”
“My mother,” he admitted. “She once told me that even men who are not entirely good in everything they do can still be gentlemen at the end of the day.”
Cozen came to a stop in front of an apartment with a brass 7 on the door. “And does that mean you’re not an entirely good man, Sargon?”
“I am a lot of things.”
“Is good one of them?”
“Depends on who you ask,” he murmured.
Cozen took her time unlocking the door of her apartment, and once it was opened, she turned to him again. “Thank you for seeing me to my door.”
“My pleasure.”
“Was it?”
He smiled, and caught himself getting lost in memorizing the soft lines of her heart-shaped face. He swore that depending on the moment or situation, Cozen changed in subtle ways. Like a chameleon, he wondered what her true colors were.
“Very much so,” he confessed.
Cozen glanced away before saying, “I think had Jett gotten his way tonight, you would not have needed to see me home at all.”
“I’m sorry?”
“He asked if I would like to spend the night with him. I could pick any hotel in the city, he said, and we would have a room until I was ready to leave.”
Instantly, that burning tightness was back in Sargon’s chest and gut again. Like fire ravaging his insides, and a noose had suddenly tightened around his neck.
Jealousy was a monster.
He did not particularly wear it well.
It seemed Cozen also didn’t miss the heat that flashed in Sargon’s eyes, never mind the sneer that worked its way over his lips. Her soft, almost knowing, smile reflected back at him.
“Do you enjoy that?” he asked.
Cozen’s tongue peeked out to wet her lips. “Enjoy what, Sargon?”
“Poking at a monster.”
“You have a monster to poke?”
“Seems so.”