She’s casual. Like I asked.
Deadly. Like shealwaysis.
I swear my body forgets how to function. My damn heart skips. My breath stalls.
She sees me—and she smiles. Not the dagger smile. Not the one she gave Travis Bell right before she bagged him. This one’s real. Soft. Almost shy.
I’m doomed.
I scramble out of my seat and round the car, opening the passenger door. She smirks at my gesture and simply says, “Hey,” as she slips into the seat. I’m genuinely worried she’ll be able to hear my heartbeat as I round back into the driver’s seat and close the door behind me. And I’m not mad about it when I catch her eyes scraping over the length of me. She’s looking at me like I’m both the best and worst mistake she’s about to make.
“You don’t look like a magician tonight.”
“Good,” I say. “Saint Shade is exhausting. Kade Arden’s much more relaxed.”
She literally rolls her eyes. “Kade Arden.” She scoffs at the name. “You know that I know that isn’t your name, right?”
I chuckle, shifting into gear. “What makes you think so?”
“Um, everything. Just look at you. You’re the most un-Kade there’s ever been. I mean, Kade’s aren’t blond.”
“I guarantee there are at least a hundred other blond Kades out there,” I say as I give her a smirk and side eye.
“Plus, the cards told me,” she says, ignoring my point. “Three times. They actually got annoyed that I kept asking. So, yeah. I know it’s not your real name. But keep pretending otherwise, pretty boy.”
“You think I’m pretty?” I tease her as I turn onto the next street.
I can feel her glare burning into my skull, and confirm it once I’ve made the turn. “Let’s not pretend that I haven’t made myself look like an absolutely feral lunatic with my comments.”
“Well, the evidence is still there, I’m no better,” I say as I arch an eyebrow at her.
“And here we are,” she says, her tone turning… sultry? Teasing? I can’t really tell the difference when it comes to her. “On a date. Post-murder witnessing, if I might add. The fates are funny little bitches.”
“I think I like their brand of humor,” I say simply, smiling at the road ahead.
“So where are we going?” she asks, finally taking her eyes off me, searching the landscape before us.
“It’s a surprise.”
She groans. “That better not mean clown strip club. I swear?—”
“Clown strip club?” I bark out a laugh. “You think that’s on my list of date spots?”
“In Vegas? Anything’s possible.”
She’s not wrong. Such a thing does in fact exist. “Relax, Dagger Kitten. No clowns, no strip clubs. Just… trust me.”
Her lip quirks. “That’s twice you’ve said ‘trust me.’ Kinda unhinged for a guy I met while elbow-deep in blood.”
“Worked out well though, didn’t it?”
She smirks, but her cheeks pink. “Jury’s still out.”
When I finally pull into the parking lot, she squints up at the neon sign glowing above us:VIVA VEGA SMASH & THROW.
“Is this… is this one of those axe-throwing places?” she asks with an incredulous snort.
“And daggers. And a smash room,” I add, hoping and praying this wasn’t the world’s stupidest idea. “After last night’s stake out, I figured you might want to… let out some aggression.”
