Page 9 of Protect Me
“It’s not.”
“Then what is this?” I question as I use the tip of my dagger to push the sleeve of his shirt up. The brand there—a dagger with a single drop of blood at the tip of the blade—signifies exactly who he is, not that most folks recognize the logo or the name of the gang it signifies.
“I like tattoos,” the bastard replies with a smirk.
Leaning in even further, I inhale deeply then let my inner lion show in my eyes when I pull back. Mitchum stares at me, his eyes widening just enough that, combined with his quickening pulse, equals fear.
Good.
“I can smell her blood on you,” I tell him. “And that makes me desperate to rip you apart. See, I’ll start with that pathetic cock that dangles between your legs. Then, I’ll move to your legs. Your arms. Until finally—” I take the dagger at my waist and drag it ever so slightly over his gut. “Do I need to continue painting this picture for you?”
“You do not scare me, asshole,” he replies. “Not nearly as much ashedoes. So go ahead, tear me apart, scatter me throughout No Man’s Land. But I’m not saying a fucking thing. Ever.”
There’s just enough desperation in his tone to make his meaning clear. Whoever he’s working for has him more scared than even I do. And that means this whole thing is useless. I try not to let my anger get the better of me as I accept that fact.
“Shame.” In a blur of movement, I slash my dagger over his throat. He gags and wheezes, head falling forward as blood soaks his shirt. Frustrated, I turn to face my brothers. “Fucker wasn’t going to talk.”
“Nope,” Killian agrees, looking just as pissed as I feel about the dead end. “What do we do now?”
“We inform the Ringmaster that our newest arrival has some nasty people after her. People who are, apparently, far more intimidating than we are.”
“That’s troublesome.”
All three of us turn as D strolls in. He’s every bit the intimidating dragon though most have no idea the truth behind his supernatural heritage. As the only full-blooded dragon in Portland—that we know of—he commands our respect though my brothers and I give it freely.
D might be an asshole.
But the man is honorable to the core. Even if everyone else in the world merely sees a man who contractually obligates his performers, I see someone who gave me a second chance, who gives people like his mate and Helen a chance to escape whatever horrors they’re running from.
“What happened?” D asks.
“The fucker was more scared of his boss than of us,” Killian replies.
“What boss?” D asks, eyes narrowing on the guy’s body. “He doesn’t wear a House ring.”
“No. But he was clearly referring to whoever hired him. He wasn’t going to break. Even with the fact that he pissed himself when Duncan tackled him in the woods.”
“Who the hell is this girl?” D questions, eyeing the dead prisoner.
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “But she seems to be important enough that Crimson Hunters are searching for her. And a warlock to boot.”
D arches a brow. “You believe this man to be a Crimson Hunter?”
I nod and pull his sleeve up to reveal the gang’s brand again. It’s one I recognize from my past life as a contract killer. “He’s a hired goon all right. Though, if I had to guess, he’s fairly green. Maybe a pledge.”
D ponders what I said, his copper gaze not leaving the dead man in our presence.
“What will you have us do, boss?” Killian asks.
“Liv is intent on giving this woman a chance,” he replies. “But I’m not looking for a front-row seat to someone else’s war.”
“Do you have any idea what kind of supernatural she might be?” Bracken asks.
D shakes his head. “I do not recognize her scent, and if she’d had any active abilities, I imagine she wouldn’t be as banged up as she is.”
“We’ll figure it out. With enough time, we’ll get to the bottom of it,” I offer. The fear that D will throw her out grows with each passing moment. And for some reason, I don’t want Helen to leave. Not yet, anyway.
“See that you do,” D replies as he runs a hand over the back of his neck. “Find out her real fucking name, too. We’ll give her a chance and hope she’s worth the trouble she will inevitably deliver to our doorstep.”