“Marek,” he says simply. “Fortune teller.” His voice is soft but carries in the small space. “The cards were... interesting this morning.”
“Good interesting or 'pack your bags and run' interesting?”
A smile ghosts across his lips. “That remains to be seen.”
Before I can process that cryptic response, two nearly identical men approach. Both are tall with brown hair, but one carries himself with barely contained violence while the other seems more withdrawn.
“Logan,” says the first, flashing a grin that's all sharp edges. “Fire eater. And before you ask, yes, it's as stupid and dangerous as it sounds.”
“And twice as fun to watch,” adds his twin, though his gray eyes hold a sadness that makes something in my chest tighten. “Rowe. Animal tamer.”
“Twins,” I observe. “That must be convenient for alibis.”
Logan barks out a laugh. “I like her already.”
The last man stands apart from the group, idly flipping a knife between his long fingers. His floppy black hair falls across his face, and when he looks up, I catch a glimpse of slanted brown eyes that hold a predatory gleam.
“Cole,” he says, never stopping his knife play. “I throw things at people for money.”
“Sounds like my kind of hobby.”
His grin turns wicked. “Something tells me you and I are going to get along just fine.”
I feel rather than see Silas stiffen beside me. When I glance at him, his jaw is set in a hard line, blue eyes fixed on Cole with unmistakable tension.
“Cole specializes in... sharp objects,” Silas says, his voice carefully neutral.
“Among other things.” Cole's grin widens, and he makes a deliberate show of looking me up and down. “So, escape artist. What's your specialty? Handcuffs? Chains? Rope work?”
The innuendo in his tone is unmistakable, and I see Logan elbow Rowe with obvious amusement. Even Jonah's trying to hide a smile.
“Whatever needs escaping from,” I reply, matching his energy. “Though I find the more complicated the restraint, the more... satisfying the release.”
Cole's laugh is pure appreciation. “Oh, we're definitely going to have fun.”
Silas's hand lands on my lower back, warm through the thin fabric of my shirt. “Nova and I will be working up a double act. Combining illusion with escape artistry.”
“How... intimate,” Cole purrs, never taking his eyes off me. “All that close contact, those lingering touches during the performance. Must require quite a bit of... practice.”
“We'll manage,” Silas says tersely.
I can practically feel the testosterone-fueled tension crackling between them, and something mischievous sparks in my chest. After years of looking over my shoulder, of jumping at every shadow, there's something deliciously freeing about being fought over by attractive men who probably break laws for a living.
“Actually,” I say, stepping slightly away from Silas's touch and closer to Cole, “I find that chemistry can't be forced. It either exists or it doesn't.”
Cole's knife stops spinning. “And does it?”
“The jury's still out.”
Logan lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Si. She's got your number already.”
Silas's smile is sharp enough to cut glass. “I think Nova and I should get started on our rehearsal. We've got a show tonight, after all.”
“So soon?” Rowe asks, surprise coloring his quiet voice.
“No time like the present,” Silas replies, his hand returning to my back with more pressure this time. “The sooner we get synchronized, the better.”
Jules smirks from her perch on Elias's desk. “Synchronized. Is that what we're calling it?”
