Page 58 of Snake

Cox looked back and saw Kalina sitting comfortably in the chair he’d vacated. She was talking to Thumper and in no confusion or distress.

Autumn was being petulant. She’d seen Kalina sitting on his lap when she and her boss had come in. Cox remembered that tight frown she’d faced him with when he’d first seen her in the Hall. Now remembering also that Kalina had served them that night when they’d had dinner at Marie’s, Cox comprehended something fascinating—and, frankly, kind of delightful.

“You jealous?” he asked, enjoying the question more than he expected.

Her expression darkened even more. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have no reason to be jealous of anybody here, so you can wipe that dumb grin off your face.”

He hadn’t realized he was smiling. In fact, her claim surprised him so much he actually set his hand on his cheek. Yep. Smiling. He stopped.

He also dropped the jealousy thing, because he didn’t give a shit if she was jealous or not. Why would he? “What’re you doin’ in here, Autumn? We’re invitation only, and I don’t recall anybody sending out save-the-date cards.”

Her head tipped to one side, and her face rearranged itself into a wry smirk. “That was both a nonsense thing to say and also a little witty. Invitations and save-the-date cards are two different things. One comes before the other. But it’s still a surprising detail for somebody like you to say. I’ll give it half credit.”

“Didn’t know I was being tested—and what’s that mean, ‘somebody like me’?”

For an answer, she made an arc with her arm, presenting the room like she was auditioning for a role as game-show eye candy.

He got her point, and it pissed him off. “You really think we’re a buncha animals, don’t ya?”

“If the kutte fits,” she said and turned away from him to lean on the bar. Well, she was too short to lean, but she put her elbows up on the top.

Cox stepped up beside her and caught Chuck’s eye. “The lady’ll have a Jameson on the rocks. Draw me a Bud, and a shot of Turkey.”

“Make mine a club soda,” Autumn called to Chuck. To Cox, she said, “I’m not drinking tonight.” She shot a glance over Cox’s shoulder, where he could still hear the Suit talking.

Cox looked that direction and saw Izzy tucked under an expensively suited arm. The Suit was in the act of tossing back about three fingers of some kind of whiskey. Badger and Double A were still there, but their postures had eased considerably. The threat level had dropped, which probably meant Dom’s plan was rolling.

“That guy’s a real shithead. Your boss, right?”

“My boss, yes. And you haven’t said a word to him, so it’s a bit early to judge, don’t you think?”

As she hit her question mark, the Suit laughed loudly. He had the big, braying guffaw that, for whatever reason, seemed to be a trait specific to fat cats.

Autumn made a little shudder of irritation.

“Am I wrong?” Cox asked her.

She sighed. “No, you’re not wrong.” As if it were a reflex, unconsciously, she brushed her hand over her hip—where the Suit had rested his hand earlier. Repeatedly.

Cox was catching the scent that the Suit was more than just a little bit handsy. Autumn felt threatened, and he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t him or any of the Horde. Not tonight, at least.

“Does he make trouble for you?”

She gazed up at him for a long time. Chuck brought their drinks, and she turned to collect them, handed Cox’s shot to him and settled back in to stare again.

When she finally spoke, she didn’t give him much. “Shitheads make trouble for everybody. That’s why they’re shitheads.”

Obviously, she wasn’t going to entertain that topic, and Cox was out of ways to keep a conversation going. He looked around as if he might find inspiration somewhere in the room, but all he saw was the Suit, who’d pulled Izzy up tight against him and was laughing like a jackass again while Badger and a group of patches laughed with him and they all tossed back shots.

But then Cox found inspiration better than a discussion topic. Something that didn’t require much talk at all.

He turned back to Autumn and found her frowning attention now on her boss. When she realized Cox was watching her, she turned to him, and her expression shifted. Still a frown, but less worried or irritated. More bemused.

She was a real puzzle, little Miss Going to Work Barbie here. Her pretty face was expressive, but he was never quite sure what all those expressions portended. It wasn’t easy to know what to say, when he was in the unfortunate position of trying to make conversation.

But that was okay; they didn’t need to talk.

“You play pool?” he asked.

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