Page 111 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
switch, too.”
Asher nods. “You did well, then, too.”
I grin and shrug, remembering Asher’s accusation a few months ago. “I’ve been told I’m one part mafia spy and one part corporate spy.”
“You forgot honeypot.”
“That, too.”
“Well, aren’t you guys cute?” a deep voice says.
I screech, almost falling off of my perch on the box when a figure emerges from the shadowed corner.
So much for being a spy…
Asher reaches out to steady me, and I let him, my body tense. When the car lurches forward, the light no longer red, I’m able to lean on Asher to prevent another fall. His body doesn’t even sway with the jerky movements of the vehicle.
“Don’t worry,” Asher murmurs. “He’s with us.”
“My name is Niccolaio, but you may call me Nick,” the man introduces himself.
I look at him, taking in his tan skin, dark hair, and dark brown eyes. He’s dressed in all black—black sweats, black shoes, and a tight black shirt that hugs his trim, muscular frame quite closely. There’s something about him that looks dangerous, lethal. It’s the same something Asher has, except I don’t trust it on Nick.
I press closer to Asher and hope my voice doesn’t betray my wariness when I say, “I’m Lucy.”
“I know. Lucy Ives,” he says, a brief smile flashing across his face.
A frown tugs heavily on my lips. “Yet, I don’t know you.”
It’s bothering me that he knows my last name, and I don’t know his… even though my last—and entire—name is fake. Speaking of which, I should tell Asher my real name sometime.
There’s a rumble of laughter before Asher wraps an arm around my shoulders, squeezing me against him in an openly affectionate side hug. “That’s Niccolaio Andretti.”
My jaw drops, practically unhinging itself from the normalcy of its socket. “Andretti?”
“Yes. I spared his life when I took his uncle’s,” says Asher, casually, and I think he’s referring to the capo he went into Andretti territory to kill. “We’re… friends.”
Niccolaio scowls, “We won’t continue to be if you keep spilling my secrets to everyone you know.”
Asher rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Nick. Lucy isn’t everyone. She’s one of mine.” He turns to me. “Nick will be with me while I track down René.”
I’m immediately relieved to learn that he has back up. Even though I neither know nor trust Nick, Asher seems to, and I trust Asher with my life… until the car screeches to a halt, and Nick gestures to the box I’m sitting on and says, “Get in.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Faced with what is right,
to leave it undone shows
a lack of courage.
Confucius
“Excuse me?” My arms are crossed, and I’m glaring at Nick. “You want me to get in the box?”
He ignores me, reaches inside a gym bag, pulls out some clothes, and hands it to Asher and the guards. The three of them strip, and I can’t even enjoy a shirtless Asher, because I was just asked by an Andretti to stuff myself into a cardboard moving box.
When the guys are done dressing, they’re in some sort of work uniform of jeans, a t-shirt, a baseball cap, and heavy worker boots. The caps read, “Donato’s Moving Company,” while the t-shirts have the company’s logo sprawled across the front. The caps are pulled low enough that, if they keep their heads down, Asher and the guards will be unrecognizable.
