62. Devils Dance
SIXTY-TWO
Devil's Dance
PIERCE
I would kill Scott Patterson. He was a fool and deserved a slow death—a cancer I needed cut out of my life. He brought a host of holy crap into my lap and cost me the perfect kingdom. In the blink of an eye, that bastard destroyed everything.
Didn’t he get the hint when I tossed my Queen over my shoulders and shifted into a jog? I’d been learning from him for years; you’d think he’d follow my lead for once.
But no!
The bastard lumbered behind, no urgency to his step at all. The fool still had the damn knife out. I gave him a gun. Why wasn’t he using it? But then, I shoved my gun down next to the blade when I lifted my Queen over my shoulder.
She didn’t put up much of a fight. The only reason I carried her was that I didn’t want her to think about running. Scott should pay better attention to what might happen and plan more than the next step ahead. We were so fucking vulnerable out here. Unlikely anyone would see us, but in a neighborhood like this, some bored housewife could be out for a jog. We would attract attention and be even more fucked than we were now.
My plan was to load my Queen in the back of the van. Drive. Kill Scott. Dump his worthless flesh the first moment possible. To think I’d ever thought to admire this lunatic.
Damn it. I couldn’t kill him. Too messy. Too likely to be traced back to me.
I would tie him up at a filling station or rest stop, and call the cops. They’d take him back into custody where…he would spill every detail of what I’ve done.
Shit!
He may think he taught me everything I know, but Scott had a lot to learn.
The first would be how to die.
At least my Queen remained blissfully quiet. The shock of the past few moments had to be seeping into her head. She knew her punishment would be severe. It was good her mind turned to such things. Discipline wasn’t something I could hold back, but I could reward her for silence. The sooner she learned this simple fact, the easier her life would be.
My heart broke with a glance toward my beautiful and obedient Belle. She did everything I’d asked and even kept the engine running, something I hadn’t instructed her to do. God, I loved her perfection.
As we approached, she lifted her head. “Master.”
That one word was a breath of beauty in my ears.
“Belle, you have pleased me.”
She kept her gaze focused on my feet.
“Up,” I said.
As she stood, I granted her my touch, placing my hand on her head so she could feel my mastery.
Behind me, Scott scrambled out of the culvert, his breathing labored with the exertion. I’d hiked out of there carrying my Queen and had barely broken a sweat.
“We going to stand here all day?” Scott looked down the road.
I turned away because I couldn’t hide the disgust on my face. Soon I would be rid of him.
“Belle,” I commanded, “open the back and climb inside.”
“Yes, Master,” came her soft-spoken reply.
My blood warmed at the sweet whisper of her words, and my cock twitched.
Belle walked around to the back of the van. Scott and I followed. Our heads were on swivels, scanning the streets.
We were in the clear.
Belle’s scream had me twisting with surprise. A dark shape barreled into my shoulder, knocking me to the ground. My Queen landed with a thump underneath me. She screamed. Another blur moved to my right. Muscle smacked on flesh—more screams issued from Belle. Something rolled me. Moved me off my Queen.
“Son of a bitch!” Scott added his screech to this new threat.
My ears rang, and my head throbbed. Fists smacked something solid to my left. Cursing sounded over my shoulder.
Facedown, I struggled against a knee pressed to my spine. My left arm was wrenched behind my back. My attacker grabbed for the other.
A keening sound came from Belle. I had never heard such a strangled cry out of her in all our years together. Out of my periphery, she launched through the air, knocking my attacker off my back.
Feral sounds emanated from her throat. “Get off my Master!” She kicked a man who had a scar traveling from his ear to his jaw. In their struggle, she dislodged a gun from his hand. The weapon went sailing through the air to land ten feet away.
Who the hell were these guys?
I rolled to the side. Belle was a wildcat, all hissing and spitting—so damn beautiful. She gave me exactly the distraction I needed to get free.
I spared a glance to my right. My Queen dragged herself away, hand pressed to her knee. Her brows pulled together, and her forehead creased with pain.
A fist connected with my jaw, bringing my attention back to the man with the scar. He tossed Belle off his back, but she was already lifting herself off the ground and attacking again. As she flew at him, I rolled to my feet, a little unsteady, but prepared to defend or attack.
Belle was on his back, biting his shoulder. He struggled to remove her.
To my left, Scott faced off against another man who raised the barrel of his gun. Scott leaped forward, swinging with his knife and ignoring the gun. A shot fired, but Scott’s momentum propelled him forward. He sliced across his attacker’s forearm, wresting the gun from the man’s hand.
I couldn’t spare any more of my attention for Scott. I turned back to the scarred man in front of me who had been disarmed thanks to Belle. He peeled Belle off his back and slammed her to the dirt. She landed with a thud and scrambled back to her feet.
I didn’t have time for this. I pulled out the gun I’d taken from the fools locked in my dungeon, pointed and pulled the trigger.
Nothing.
I pulled the trigger again. Nothing! The damn thing was a dud.
I tossed the pistol and reached for my knife.
“Belle, get his gun!”
I lunged with my knife, intending to make quick work of him.
He sidestepped, leaving me slashing at the air. Using my momentum, I pivoted and readied for another strike. I jabbed in a downward arc and was rewarded with a hiss and a stripe of crimson over the man’s bicep.
I thrust my knife forward, but he caught my wrist. Twisted it.
Pain shot through my arm, but I wasn’t releasing that knife. I stepped forward, the bastard wasn’t expecting that, and I head-butted him—our skulls connected with a crack.
He released my wrist, and we faced off, me with my knife and him with bare hands.
To my left, Scott aimed the gun he’d taken from his opponent, but nothing happened when he fired. What was up with the guns? He did what I had done, fired again, but when the gun failed, he threw it over his shoulder with a snarl. He came at his opponent in a furious whirl. I’d been worried about Scott, but there seemed to be no need. Perhaps I had misjudged Scott’s skill with a knife.
My fears assuaged, I focused on the asshole before me.
A tall man, his muscular frame climbed from here to forever. He had more muscle than me, but I was faster with a longer reach.
We lined up and prepared for the devil’s dance.