Page 67 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
He was giving me an excuse to touch him.
When we get to the event, I’m surprised to see Minka there on the arm of a much older man. She scowls at me, but she wisely keeps her distance. I see her sending a worried glance Asher’s way and wonder if Minka’s date is one of the poor saps she’s trying to gold dig from.
After we check in, Asher and I mingle around. He introduces me to a lot of people, and I’m stunned to see how well he knows all these powerful players in my field. These are influential people, all of whom seem to respect Asher. Despite his youth, he stands more self-assured than anyone else here.
I’m proud to be on his arm.
I’m also grateful for the way he’s careful to keep me engaged in these conversations, not as an accessory but rather a partner. He treats me like his equal, and in response, everyone we’ve talked to gives me the same respect.
I’m ecstatic from all of the connections I’ve made by the time I head to the bar for a water with Xavier following a few feet behind me. I frown when I see Minka’s date there. He’s leaning against the bar when his eyes scan his surroundings.
There are two drinks in front of him. He pops something—a pill, maybe?—into one of the drinks and stirs it with his finger. I stumble a little when I see where he’s headed, both drinks in hand. My eyes follow his path as he takes the drinks to a table a few feet away, where he hands the spiked drink to Minka.
I hate Minka. She treats me poorly, has a superiority complex, and has been hell bent on making my life miserable since I met her. But she also doesn’t deserve to be drugged and who knows what else. There isn’t even a doubt in my mind that I have to do something about this. And quickly.
I turn towards Xavier and tell him what I saw. He leads me back to Asher before he takes off with an event security guard in tow. They’re headed in Minka’s direction, so I turn away. She’s in capable hands. I know she’ll be safe now. I don’t owe her anything else.
“Can we leave now?” I ask Asher, unsure of how Minka will react.
If there’s a scene and she’s humiliated, I know she’ll blame me. I hope it doesn’t happen, but I don’t want to be here in the off chance that it does. That’s just asking for trouble, which I definitely don’t need in front of people that can potentially be my future bosses.
Asher nods. We say our goodbyes to a few people before we head out, his guard following closely behind. Xavier stays behind at the event to deal with Minka’s date, so only the three of us head out the front door of the building.
It’s a short walk back to the penthouse, so I ask Asher if we can walk before he calls his driver to pick us up. We make our way down the sidewalk adjacent to Sproul Hall,
where my statistics class is held. Asher and I are holding hands, probably to keep up appearances, but I don’t mind it. I also don’t mind that Asher’s guard is trailing behind us from a comfortable distance.
The sidewalk is on a busy street, close to a crowded intersection. I mindlessly look at the hectic street, watching the congestion of cars slowly passing by in traffic. There are bicyclists and motorcyclists swerving in and out of the traffic, bypassing the gridlocked cars.
I smile when I see a funny duo on a matte black Ducati. There are two men on the bike, but they’re so ripped they can barely fit together on the seat. I’m trying not to laugh, but a little chuckle slips through.
Asher hears it and follows my line of sight. I frown, reacting to his narrowed eyes. I look back at the duo, trying to see what he’s seeing in those calculated eyes of his, when I spot it, danger and death wrapped in a sleek package.
A gun.
The one in the back locks his eyes on me and reaches for the weapon. Asher and I react at the same time, and all Hell breaks loose. He tries to pull me behind him, but I’m already moving at the same time. When the bullet pierces through the air, I accidentally push him into its trajectory.
It hits him square in the chest.
Meanwhile, I’m safely crouched on the ground, shielded by his falling body. The world moves in slow motion as I watch him fall. No way he survived that, I think, but I’m proven wrong when he reaches behind his back with both hands.
He pulls out a gun in each hand and shoots. Two shots ring out simultaneously, moving in the direction of the motorcyclists that are zipping away. A bullet hits each of their moving forms at the same time Asher finally falls and lands.
On me.
I push him off of me gently, careful not to touch the guns nor his chest. My eyes are wide as I search his torso with my eyes and fingers for a bullet hole. I see a circular gap in the middle of his button down, but there’s no blood seeping into the shirt.
I press down on the area anyway, because it’s the only thing I know to do—put pressure on the wound.
“Fuck, Lucy!” Asher cringes away from the firm pressure of my hands. “Stop! Babe, stop.”
My mind doesn’t even register that he called me “babe.”
I gape at him as he gently pries my fingers away and rubs at his chest. Asher tears the ruined fabric of his button down a little and sticks his finger in, pulling out the bullet. My eyes widen when I see that his undershirt doesn’t even have a mark on it.
But I’m so relieved he’s alive, I don’t think as I crawl into his lap and hug him. There may be tears streaming down my face, but I’m too prideful to admit it. I pull back, look at the place on Asher’s chest where he was shot, and hug him again.
And then I lean back and slap him.
