Chapter Seventeen
Dixon
Alexandra turns, looks at me with eyes full of anger, disdain, and an unfamiliar emotion far more threatening than the others. One that I refuse to name and definitely shouldn’t be there, considering we just hate-fucked in the guest bedroom of some two-bit northern California crime boss.
I pause.
I had been planning on telling her she has some of my cum on her cheek and that she should wipe it off before we go back out to the party and head for the exit, but with the look she’s giving me, I re-think it. If someone points it out to her while we’re surrounded by the crowd and she gets embarrassed, she damn well deserves it for thinking that what happened between us — even if it resulted in a couple of orgasms that still have my head ringing — is anything more than doing what we have to do to get out of this place alive.
“What happened back there between us…” I pause for effect, let her eyes widen, let her cheeks color, and I lean in to give the impression that I’m planning on saying something deep. “I’ve had better. I give you a four out of ten, and that’s being generous.”
“And I’ve had bigger. I’m not calling you ‘Bison’ anymore. I’m just going to call you ‘Lil’ Lars. Even that’s being generous, though. It’s just that ‘Lil’ rolls off the tongue so much easier than ‘Micro.’”
My mouth clicks shut.
She laughs. “I hate you, Dixon. Let’s get the fuck out of here, so I don’t have to pretend to like you anymore.”
She storms ahead of me down the hallway. I follow, one eye peeled for any sign of danger, the other on her shapely ass. Alexandra throws open the doors at the end of the hall, passes through the lounge, and then we’re assailed by the loud sounds of the party in full swing — people laughing, drinking, flirting, shouting; in one section there’s a live band playing rock music; in another corner of this massive expanse of grass, brick patio, and a pool area, there’s two men engaged in an impromptu bareknuckle boxing match while a circle of people cheer like maniacs.
I hardly have time to take it all in when someone taps me on the shoulder. It’s one of Brock’s men — a tall, gangly, sunken-eyed bastard with a knife in a sheath around his waist and a gun hanging from a shoulder holster. Both knife and gun look well-used and well cared-for.
“He wants to see you.”
“Later,” I say. “Fucking makes me thirsty. So Destiny and I are going to grab a drink and enjoy the party before we talk business.”
I see out of the corner of my eye that Alexandra’s come closer to me, and there’s another one of Brock’s men at her side, too.
“Not later. Now.” The man’s hand hits my chest.
I look at him, force a smile, and carefully remove his hand from my chest.
“Listen, whatever business he has, it can wait for just one fucking minute while I get myself a drink.”
The hand returns to my chest with more force.
“He has questions. You’ll come with us and answer them, or else this night will go real fucking bad for you and your wife.”
My eyes go from him to the other guy looming over Alexandra. We have to get out of here. Whatever Jeremiah Brock has planned for the two of us, it sure as fuck isn’t good if he’s sent two armed men to retrieve us from the middle of the party. Our cover must be blown.
Which means it’s on me to get us out of here, because, as tough as she is, Alexandra’s going to be of no use in a fight like the one that’s about to happen.
My eyes widen as an idea hits me: Alexandra might have some use after all.
“Fine. We’ll come with you.” Then I reach toward Alexandra’s beautiful, repugnant face with all the speed of a kind lover’s touch, and swipe the cum off her cheek and onto my fingertip. “My love, I hope you’re ready to go.”
Her eyes widen. She knows.
But, before she can answer — because I really don’t give a shit what she has to say — I flick the cum right into the guard’s eyes. It nails him dead-center in his left eye, and both eyes slam shut as he reaches for them, shouting. “What the fuck did you throw into my eyes?”
“You know what that sticky shit is, bitch.”
“Cum? Is it cum? Oh, fuck.”
I throw a heavy right hand that staggers him into a crowd of people. Before the other one can react, I turn to attack him, but see Alexandra is already at it; she hits him with a picture-perfect right hand, then another, and an uppercut that snaps the man’s head.
Damn, she really knows how to throw a punch.
I join her, hitting the man with a left-right combination that stuns him. Then I reach out and snatch the gun from his shoulder holster. A sharp elbow to his solar plexus folds him in half, and I waste no time in cracking the butt of the gun over his skull.
He drops like a sack of bricks.
The commotion has drawn some attention, but the loud music and raucous festivities mask most of it. Still, I know we don”t have long before someone realizes this isn”t just another drunken brawl being won by a handsome, badass former Marine and a bitchy bartender with an amazing ass. Grabbing Alexandra by the arm, I pull her through the throng of partygoers toward the gate.
“Move, princess. There will be time later to tell me how fucking great I am later.”
“You just came in that other guy’s eye.”
“I had to disable him. Figure’d it be a good way to take him out.”
“Yeah, but your brain just went right for it. Like it isn’t the first time you’ve come in another guy’s eyes,” she says. Her voice drops low. “It isn’t the first time, is it?”
My reply comes out loud, way too loud. “I don’t go around just cumming in other guys’ eyes. That’s not what I do. It’s not some fucking hobby of mine. The situation here called for it, so that’s what I did.”
More than a few people give me side-eye. I hear one guy point me out to his buddy and say, “That dude came in the other guy’s face.”
I flip him off. “It was in self-defense.”
Alexandra laughs as we hurry toward the gate. “Got ya.”
I make a mental note to warn Seraphina and Kyle that they’ll want to inform the real Lars ‘Bison’ Buckowski that he now has a reputation as a guy who likes to blast strangers in the face.
“You’re the worst.”
“Stop whining. We need to focus on how we’re getting out of here.”
I pat the gun that I’ve got stuffed into my waistband and concealed under my shirt so I don’t attract any more attention from the partygoers; it’s one thing to come in a guy’s eye and then punch him out, it’s another thing entirely to wave a gun around.
“We’ll slip out the gate and I’ll use this to ensure that the guys out front stay silent and compliant.”
“You know, if they give you any trouble, I have an idea about something you could do…”
“Don’t say it.”
“You could —”
“Don’t. I fucking swear, you better not say it, or so help me, I will…”
“You’ll come in my eye?”
“Fuck you.”
We reach the gate. I draw the gun and step through quietly, sneaking up behind the first guard and pressing the barrel to the back of his neck.
“Don’t move and don’t make a sound.”
“Seriously, don’t move, or my friend here will shoot you in ways that you could not possibly understand,” Alexandra adds, cackling quietly to herself. “He shoots quickly, and boy, it will get messy.”
Shoots quickly? What the hell?
“How much longer are you going to keep bringing that up? Fuck. I put cum in some guy’s eye, and it’s all you fucking talk about. It saved your fucking life, didn’t it?”
The guard in front of me with my gun to the back of his head inclines his head just slightly.
“Respectfully, man, I’ll cooperate. Just don’t come in my face or whatever.”
Suppressing a groan of frustration, I nod curtly and gesture with the gun for him to walk. ”Alright then, move it. And keep quiet. That goes for all three of you.” I direct a look at both the other guard and Alexandra, who I know will immediately disregard everything I’ve just said, because that’s the terrible person she is.
The guards both comply, walking in front of me while I keep the gun on them. Alexandra trails behind us, an occasional snicker betraying her amusement at my expense. We slip through the shadows cast by the opulent mansion”s exterior lighting, inching our way toward where our ride is parked.
After what feels like an eternity, the sleek outline of our getaway car comes into view, parked down the street under a canopy of overhanging trees. I keep the guards moving until we”re a few feet away, then I gesture toward the ground.
”You”re both going to lie down and interlock your hands behind your head. My companion, the lovely Destiny, is going to pat you down and remove your weapons, your phones, and your wallets. They’ll be waiting for you in the bushes about half a mile down the road.”
While she searches them — snatching three knives, two pistols, a taser, two cellphones, two wallets, and a money clip in the shape of a marijuana leaf with the words ‘Always Jammin’ emblazoned on it in sparkly letters — Alexandra speaks to the two men.
“Now, you’ll want to be especially cautious and quiet right now, because the way you’re laying right now is exactly how he positioned the other guy right before he…” She stops, shakes her head, and lets out a sigh. “He says it’s all part of his process. This thing he likes to do where he breaks people down before he, well, he calls it delivering his ‘blessing.’”
“You really shouldn’t do this to Bison, you know,” I say. “You’re going to ruin his reputation.”
“He even likes to talk about himself in the third person. What kind of deviant does that?”
I decide it”s time to shut this down before it gets out of hand.
”Alright, Destiny,” I use her fake name as a reminder that we”re on a job and not in the playground, ”finish up and let”s roll out. It’s getting late, and you’ve got that court date tomorrow to resolve those charges from the time you got frisky at the zoo.” I pause for a second before adding. “You know, with the animals?”
She shoots me a death glare.
Her hands pause over the last guard”s ankle, where she’s found yet another knife. With a triumphant grin, she waves the blade before placing it with the rest of the confiscated goods, then stands up and winks at them.
”Remember boys, be good and stay quiet if you want to keep your faces dry.”
I can”t help but shoot her a glare behind their backs before I steer her towards the car with a firm grip on her arm. We slide into our seats, and as I start the engine, I press the gun to her temple.
“No more. You understand me?”
“I understand,” she says, voice deathly quiet. Nothing more.
Satisfied, I lower the gun, put both hands on the wheel, and pull the car onto the road.
“Fuck, I really thought you were going to pop one off there,” she adds. “Just blast me right in the face. You know, like you blasted that guy.”
I can’t suppress a chuckle, or the grin on my face. “I hate you so fucking much.”
She rolls her eyes. “Sure you do. Just like I hate you, too.”