Chapter Eight #2
“Do us both a favor and come quietly,” Kenzo said. “Or scream. Either way, you’re going to see the boss.” He cracked his knuckles like a cliché mobster who’d watched one too many gangster movies. The move should’ve made him a joke, but his sheer size dared you to laugh.
Indy didn’t have a death wish.
A menacing snarled rumbled through Malik when Anakin stepped in Indy’s direction.
“Last mistake you’ll ever make,” Malik warned Anakin.
The demons went for Malik, arms outstretched.
“No!” Indy threw himself in front of his mate, clawing at the closest hand.
Malik slung Indy just as a lightning bolt landed where he’d been standing. Holy hell!
Anakin had just tried to barbeque him!
Malik went for blows with Kenzo, gaining the upper hand, until Kenzo slammed into Malik, sending him right into the shadows where he disappeared.
“Malik!”
Anakin turned, heading for the shadows. Indy leaped onto the demons back, causing Anakin to stumble forward, convinced he’d lost his ever-loving mind.
There was nothing for a long, nauseating moment. Just falling and complete darkness. Indy screamed, grabbing for anything he could find, but there was nothing but air all around him.
Then he hit something solid, knocking the wind out of him. Fuck, that hurt! Indy groaned and rolled to hands and knees, coughing. Blades of grass scraped his palms and his entire body ached.
“You okay?” Malik helped him to his feet, his hand steadying Indy by his elbow.
“I just fell through—” Indy waved a hand above his head. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“He had nothing to do with this,” Malik snarled at the demons, canines bared.
“He hitched a ride,” Anakin said flippantly. “Yell at your boy, not me.”
Malik narrowed his gaze. “Why would you do something so insane?”
“Don’t take that tone with me,” Indy argued. “They hijacked you. I wasn’t going to let them get away with it.” He didn’t mention the fact Malik was his mate. Indy wasn’t giving them any more power than they already had.
Malik mumbled something about crazy foxes. Whatever. Indy had already been through enough in the past few days. If he wanted to do something stupid, like try to save his mate, no one was going to stop him.
He’d earned that right.
“Where are we?” He glanced around the darkened streets, immediately clocking the lack of vehicles. He didn’t even spot a bicycle.
“Demon realm,” Malik answered. “A place I would’ve preferred you’d stayed away from.
“You already made that clear.” Indy jerked his arm away when Malik tried to take his hand. “I’m perfectly capable of walking, thank you very much.”
Anakin chuckled from behind him.
Indy started to give the demon a piece of his mind, but he didn’t have enough of it left to give. He was actually losing what little he had left. Demon realm. Jesus. He’d heard of this place, but had never wanted it on his bucket list.
“Get moving,” Kenzo said.
Malik gave a low snarl as lightning crackled from Anakin’s fingers.
“Unless you want your boyfriend fried to a crisp, do what Kenzo said.”
Indy hurried along, even though he had no clue where he was going. The bastard would do it just for fun.
Kenzo stopped in front of a house that looked like it belonged in Better Homes and Gardens. White house with green trim, wraparound porch, and there was a flowerbed running along one side of the house.
The fuck? He felt like he was in a Black Mirror version of Mayberry.
Indy was terrified of what he would find inside. Aunt Bee with a poisoned apple pie? That’s Snow White, idiot. I think. Note to self. Don’t eat anything offered to you.
“Maybe I can wait outside.” Indy tried to head to the porch swing, but Kenzo gripped his upper arm in a bruising hold. “Ow!”
Malik’s hand shot to Kenzo’s throat, his voice a dangerous pitch. “Remove your hand or lose it.”
Electricity shot from Anakin’s hand, striking Malik in his side. Malik shouted, but hadn’t let go of Kenzo. His mate was breathing hard, sweat glistening his forehead, but the look of wrath in his eyes said he would take as many hits as necessary until Kenzo released Indy.
Indy jerked his arm away, terrified Anakin would fry Malik’s brain.
“Shock him again and I’ll kick you in the nuts,” Indy snarled at Anakin.
The bastard laughed as Kenzo led them inside.
No sign of Aunt Bee, but the interior was just as cozy as the exterior. Polished floors, a lit fireplace, and bookshelves lines with books. Indy was curious to know what demons read. How to Make Tasty Entrails? Ten Ways to Darken Your Soul? Evil for Dummies?
He stopped short when they entered a dining room. Malik had gone rigid beside him, a low, menacing growl rumbling in his throat.
A guy was seated at the table, eating what looked like pot roast. He sliced into the savory-smelling meat, completely ignoring their entrance.
Then he pointed to a chair with his fork.
Indy didn’t move, unsure if the guy was talking to him or Malik.
Slowly, his mate lowered to a chair, muscles coiled tight, as he rested his forearms on the oak table. Indy did the same, stomach grumbling. Do not ask for some pot roast.
“Samir,” Malik said. “You wanted to see me?”
Setting aside his utensils, Samir placed one hand flat on the table, eyes narrowed.
Indy glanced at his mate when Malik made a small choking sound. He wasn’t moving, not even a twitch, but a bead of sweat slid down from his temple.
“I’ve been more than patient with you, cat,” Samir said in an eerily calm tone. “Yet you played me for a fool by running.” He slowly stood, the hand still pressed against the table. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”
“Malik?” Indy whispered, even though everyone in the room had heightened senses.
His mate didn’t look at him, didn’t even turn his head. Malik vibrated, as if he was fighting to break free from some invisible cage.
“My patience has run out,” Samir continued.
“Let him go!” Indy shouted, jumping from his seat. Was Malik in pain? Was Samir torturing him?
“And who are you, little fox?” Samir’s gaze slid to Indy, expression part curiosity, part irritation.
“Let him go!” Indy was trembling, ready to stab the asshole in his eye with his own fork. “Just because he owes you money doesn’t give you the right to torture him!”
Samir looked at him like Indy wasn’t playing with a full deck. “It gives me every right,” he said dismissively.
“Don’t,” Malik forced out, beads of sweat gathering over his brows.
“Your fox is mouthy,” Samir said to Malik.
“Mouthy?” Indy huffed. “Your goons dragged us here, not the other way around, and now you’re playing torture the cheetah and you expect me to sit on my damn thumb and do nothing?”
Technically Indy hadn’t been dragged here, but that wasn’t the point. “I’m a florist. I can make funeral arrangements that’ll have people complimenting your corpse.”
Holy hell. Indy has truly lost his mind, but he couldn’t seem to shut his mouth.
A slow smile curled Samir’s lips, eyes smug with enjoyment. “I tell you what. I’ll give Malik two days to bring me the money.”
Indy damn near sagged with relief.
“You’ll stay here, as incentive, so he doesn’t run again.”
I really need to learn when to keep my mouth shut.
Samir’s grin widened. “I’m really hoping Malik fails, little fox.”
And Indy prayed Malik didn’t.