Sadie sucked in a sharp breath. “They have a witch?”
“Not human. Some sort of demon.”
“Shit. What kind?”
“I didn’t wait around for DNA testing.”
Sadie grabbed the front of Duncan’s blue cashmere sweater he’d matched with black chinos. The male was addicted to Project Runway.
“You’re certain you weren’t followed?”
Duncan’s jaw tightened, but he was smart enough not to struggle. “I still have the amulet the witch gave me, and just to be certain I headed straight south before doubling back. If there was anyone on my trail, they’re in St. Louis by now.”
Sadie briefly considered crushing her fist into the cur’s face, if only to relieve the frustration that curdled in the pit of her stomach. A pity she still had need of the incompetent fool.
Tossing the cur away, Sadie paced the narrow room. “We have to get the Were before Caine returns.”
“Don’t look my way, luv.” Duncan smoothed his sweater, his natural arrogance back in full force. “I’ve already had my near-death experience for the week.”
Sadie curled her lips. “Be careful, Duncan. Your balls get any smaller, they might disappear altogether.”
“At least I’ll still have them intact.” He cupped his impressive package. “You want the Were? Go get her.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
“And the vampire?”
Sadie shrugged, her cunning mind already plotting her next move. “Beneath all that fang and fury, he’s just a man.”
“Get over yourself, Sadie,” Duncan drawled. “You might be a cur’s wet dream, but you’re way out of your league when it comes to vamps. Every demon knows they accept nothing less than perfection.”
Sadie merely smiled. Her years as a whore had taught her that any man could be controlled. It was all a matter of finding what buttons to push.
“I could have the vampire on his knees if I wanted,” she purred, “but men have more weaknesses beyond just an inability to think with anything besides their cock.”
“And those would be?”
“Overblown ego, and an insatiable need to flex their testosterone.” Sadie tossed her raven curls. “I set the trap, and he walks in. Bringing the sweet little Were with him.”
“You’re in over your head, luv.”
“Unlike you, Duncan, I have a spine.”
“Until Jagr rips it out.”
Sadie’s smile faded, a ruthless chill of unease inching down her still-attached spine. With a low growl, she thrust away the stupid sensation.
The years of her being a feeble victim were long gone. She was the hunter now, not the prey.
Shoving her hand into the front pocket of her leather pants, she pulled out a set of keys and tossed them to the startled Duncan.
“Here.”
His brows lifted. “Babe, you shouldn’t have.”
“I didn’t. The keys are to the imp’s RV.”
His teeth flashed white in the thickening darkness. “I’m more a Lamborghini man.”
“Caine wants the RV torched before it’s discovered by the humans.”
An eerie glow came and went in Duncan’s gaze. He was alpha enough to resent Caine’s superior position in the pack.
“That’s below my pay grade. Get one of the grunts to play pyro.”
“Scared, Duncan?” Sadie taunted, turning to stroll toward the side door. She was itching to hurt something. And she had a tasty toy already tied up and waiting for her attention. How fortunate. “Don’t worry, I’ll send Silk with you. Her magic will keep the big bad vampire away.”
“Bitch.”
With a low chuckle, Sadie stepped through the door that connected the small shed. The bald lightbulb hanging from the open rafters by an electric cord swayed at her entrance, filling the cramp space with harsh light and revealing the broken shovels, axes, hammers, and coffee cans filled with nails left to rust in the corners.
Sadie had no interest in the abandoned tools or the thick dust that blanketed the interior of the shed. Her entire attention was focused on the imp with long red hair and green eyes who was stripped naked and chained to the wall.
A smile of anticipation curled her lips as her gaze ran over the tall, muscular body. Except for a few flecks of dried blood, Culligan’s ivory skin had healed to smooth perfection. It made her hands twitch with anticipation. Slicing through unmarred flesh was just like dipping her finger into a new jar of peanut butter.
And speaking of peanut butter…
Her smile widened as she crossed to the overturned barrel where she’d left her favorite peanut butter fudge, wrapped in foil. She popped a large bite into her mouth before retrieving a silver dagger hanging on the wall and approaching the cowering imp.
He looked like an ancient sacrifice with his arms and legs spread wide, his flame hair flowing over his naked body. And, ah…his scent. Rich, plum-spiced, with a heady edge of stark, raving terror.
It was enough to make Sadie’s heart pitty-pat with delight.
Halting directly before the quivering demon, Sadie slowly leaned forward.
“You’ve been a very naughty boy, Culligan,” she purred, skimming the tip of the dagger down the center of his chest. “First you allow Salvatore to track you down and discover the girl, then you lead one of the most lethal vampires to ever walk the earth to my doorstep.”
The green eyes rolled like he was a wild horse being bridled. “Please…mistress…”
She dug in the dagger until a bead of blood marred the ivory skin. “You wish to plead for your life, spineless worm?”
“I did what was asked of me.” Culligan licked his lips, his voice rough from his hours of screaming. “I was told to keep the woman alive, and not to allow her to escape. No one warned me that the pissed-off King of Weres was searching for the bitch.”
“You were told what you needed to know.” Sadie sliced a shallow cut from the imp’s breastbone to his belly button, her ears singing from Culligan’s cries of pain. Such a pathetic wretch. He couldn’t even manage a proper hex, the simplest of imp magic. Still, he did make the loveliest sounds when he was being carved like a Thanksgiving turkey. “Did you think you could deal with the devil and not pay in blood?”
“What do you want from me?”
“For now, your pain will do. A pity I’ve been warned we might need you as bait. I can’t permanently damage you, but I’m creative enough to keep you in one piece.” With a smile she withdrew the dagger, only to plunge it back into his stomach, all the way to the hilt. “Well, perhaps not one piece, but a large enough piece to keep your heart beating.”
When he was done screaming, Culligan struggled to speak. “Bait? What does that mean?”
Reminded that the imp had not only lost the Were, but had dropped a butt-load of trouble in her lap, Sadie twisted the blade.
“You, my pet, have managed to make an enemy of both the vamps and Weres,” she hissed. “They would follow your scent to the gates of hell to have the pleasure of killing you.”
His head sagged, the hair falling forward like a crimson river. “What does anyone care about the stupid girl? She’s nothing but damaged goods. She can’t even shift, for Christ’s sake.”
“What an idiot you are, Culligan. The girl’s worth is beyond price. And you’d better hope your bumbling hasn’t endangered my master’s experiments, or you’re going to be praying the Weres get you first.”
“If she’s worth so much, then why did you sell her to me?”
Pulling out the dagger, Sadie placed the bloody tip beneath his chin and forced his face upward. She leaned forward until their noses were nearly touching.
“She’s…insurance.”
“Insurance for what?”
Sadie chuckled. “The ruling elite in the demon-world is about undergo a change in management, imp. A pity you won’t be around to enjoy the transformation.”
With a smooth thrust, the dagger slid through the soft under skin of Culligan’s chin, moving through flesh to pierce his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
The shriek of agony was muffled, but no less sweet.
The land south and west of Hannibal smoothed from high bluffs to rolling fields and heavily wooded acres. Squatting down to study the narrow dirt path, Jagr could hear the rustle of raccoons and opossums, as well as native deer. Precisely the wild game that would attract a pack of hungry curs.
Too bad there wasn’t a hint of cur in the air. Not a scent, not a track, not even a stray hair.
There was a rustle beside him and the scent of midnight jasmine teased at his senses.
Regan.
His jaw clenched as his body painfully reacted to her proximity.
Gods, he thought his days of torture were behind him. He’d slaughtered his enemies and retreated to the barricaded safety of his lair. His life was supposed to be one of peace and quiet contemplation.
Yeah…right.
There was nothing peaceful in the way his body burned for a Were who couldn’t decide if she wanted to rip off his clothes or stick a stake in his heart. Or in the knowledge he was risking a death sentence by ignoring Styx’s order to return Regan to Chicago so the revenge-crazed woman could kill her enemy. Or even in having his hard-earned distrust for others slowly, relentlessly undermined.