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He’s beginning to whimper as his eyes dart frantically around the room. I pull the knife I stashed from my waistband, and flip it open, holding it up so the light bounces off of it. I kiss my two fingers, then press them against Eddy’s chest. Beneath them, I feel the beating of his heart. It’s racing which only fuels me more. “I’m sorry Eddy, this is goodbye. I’m afraid it’s time for you to die.”
I make quick work of slicing across his neck, hitting the carotid artery, and watching as his hot crimson blood spills out. As he screamed and struggled, I laughed. Somehow, I knew he was going to be a screamer. I set to work on my second masterpiece while Eddy laid beneath me, splayed and dying. I used the tip of the same blade to carve a heart onto his chest, where his actual heart no longer beat. Then I signed my name with a big fancy Q.
Since backup hasn’t arrived, I decide to go back and slit his partner’s throat too, just for good measure. I unlock the door and open it. His partner is right where I left him. I grab him by the arms, pull him inside, then close the door and lock it once more. I don’t have much time left, hastily I slit his throat and watch as he bleeds out. Using the knife, I rip open his shirt and carve my name on his chest, too. Next to the heart I add a few ha, ha, ha’s. He never should have insulted me. Now I get the last laugh. I’m still sitting on his chest laughing when I hear the door being kicked in behind me. I drop the knife, standing with my hands in the air, surrendering to my enemies.
“Whoops, did I start playing without you boys?” I taunt seductively. “My bad, these two were so eager to play I didn’t want to tell them no. We should have waited for you, but Eddy wanted me all to himself, I think.” I bat my thick, heavy lashes at the men.
“Boss,” one guy radios. “You need to come down and see this.”
“Awww,don’tworryboys,it was only a joke.” I purr at them. “I was just so afraid. You know they came at me, and what’s a poor girl like me to do except defend herself?” They don’t buy it as they point their guns at me, but I don’t care it’s two less men on their side, and playing the victim isn’t really my style, anyway. I’m still relishing in my beautiful disaster when I’m interrupted by Le Manchot bursting through the doorway. His eyes sweep the room and the damage I’ve done. He reaches for his handgun and my heart pounds in my chest. I really didn’t think he would harm me, what with him wanting something from Christian earlier. I watch on pins and needles as he clears the safety, points it, and squeezes the trigger. One of his own men falls to the ground, howling in pain.
“I told you all not to let her get in your head!” He shouts angrily. “Would you look at this mess? Don’t you think that if I give you an order, it’s in your best interest to follow it?” The men stare blankly, some opting to look at the ground in shame. “Get this mess cleaned up,” he commands, waving the gun in the air. “And someone bring me a chair, tape, and some rope. Our guest has officially worn out her welcome.”
Le Manchot is fuming. I didn’t anticipate killing two men would have such an effect on him. Two men take off to retrieve the supplies while the others stay behind with their guns trained on me. Christian will be furious. I bet he tortures them, maybe takes a finger, or better yet, an entire hand. Who am I kidding? His rage will be white hot and dangerous. He won’t take the time to torture any of those who played a part in this. Instead, he’ll murder them in cold bold and not think twice about it. That’s one of his best qualities, kill first and regret not torturing them later. His way always gets the job done. My way leaves loose ends. Rule number one: no loose ends.
“Christian will murder you one by one. Executioner style, no regrets, no hesitation. You should lower your weapons and return me to him. It’s the only chance you have of surviving this job,” I say, taunting the sidekicks with the guns. A few of them shift uncomfortably. Good, they’ve seen what I am capable of and they know how much I mean to him.
“That’s enough!” Le Manchot screeches, firing a shot into the ceiling above me. It sends plaster and drywall showering down on top of me. He’s near his breaking point. It might be in my best interest to stop pressing my luck at this point and wait for Christian. Even if they negotiate a trade, he will enact his revenge on them. He will come for each one of these men until there’s no one left but Le Manchot. I know, Christian, he will be the last to die. I laugh to myself, thinking about what a mind fuck my man is.
It’s so incredibly sexy. The thought has my pussy aching to be filled while he whispers in my ear all the terrible things he’s done to punish them. My body longs to be worshiped by his fingers. My reward for breaking his heart. I’m his only weakness. He hates himself for it. Losing me has always been his worst nightmare. Le Manchot may have ruined everything by completely derailing our morning plans of pleasure for two, but he also opened the door for the best make-up session I’m ever going to have. It’s almost like a nice parting gift to commiserate his death.
The sound of a metal chair being slammed into the ground snaps me out of my fantasy. The men have returned to bind and gag me. When Le Manchot is satisfied I am secure, he waves all but one man with a gun from the room. He turns on me, his anger brimming and snarls, “You’d be smart just to play your part, Quinn-y. This is so much bigger than you, silly girl. I plan to take down the Peacocks and Arkham both and then the city will be mine to control. A city of birds. It has such a nice ring to it. What do you think, Quinn?” He asks me with a sly smirk.
“What’s that, cat got your tongue?” He laughs. “Don’t look so sad, dear. Everyone you love will have to die, but you can save yourself and some of your most loyal men if you would do me the honors of becoming mine. I know it seems like I’m rough around the edges, but I promise Quinn-y if you join me, I can make you happier than Christian ever could.”
He paces around me in a circle, boasting about all his evil plans. He must underestimate my reaction to his repulsive suggestion that I leave Christian for him. He drones on and on, spilling all his dirty little secrets. He confesses every last detail to me and just as he finishes, his phone rings. I know from the way the smile slowly forms on his face that it’s Christian. He must have what Le Manchot wants.
“See here sweetheart,” Le Manchot squawks before answering the call, “I’ll even let you hear his voice one last time before we murder him at the rendezvous point.”
I have to find a way to get to the rendezvous point in time to warn Christian. First, I have to figure out where it is. I listen closely as Le Manchot discusses business in front of the Don of Arkham’s baby girl. Le Manchot, more like Le Idiot. Finally, he tells Christian if he ever wants to see me alive to meet him at the bridge leading out of the city. This must be the rendezvous. The only thing that matters now is escaping my captors and falling into the arms of my lover just in time to save him from being double crossed and six feet under.
Chapter 7
Dirty Birds
Christian-
TheJagslidesaroundthe corner and slams into the parking lot in front of the club, tires squealing. I don’t bother with the side entrance. Today, I’m going right through the front door. I want to see the doorman stop me. Next to me, Clay jogs a few steps to keep up. The guys at the door slide together shoulder to shoulder to block the entrance.
“I’ll shoot them, Clay. They all need to learn who the fuck I am. Take care of it or I will.” The orders sound like snarls as they leave my lips. Le Manchot pushed me over the edge. I knew he couldn’t be trusted. “On ne peut jamais faire confiance aux putains d’oiseaux sales,dirty fucking birds can never be trusted.“ When I see him, it’s going to take all my self-control not to grab the tire iron from the trunk and beat him to a bloody pulp with it.
“Understood, Boss,” Clay responds cooly, unbothered by my gruff demeanor.
He jogs full speed to the door and tries to warn the door guys. As I rapidly approach them, I can hear as they give him a hard time. “I’m warning you boys, Christian is in no mood today. We’ve already had enough bloodshed on our side, and I’m going to be real honest with ya. I don’t want him to shoot you.”
They laugh. Now they’re in for it. Disrespectful bastards are going to learn their place today. I shove past Clay and swing on the guy who laughed first. He didn’t stand a chance, he lands in a crumpled heap on the ground, out cold. The other guy tries to swing on me, but I’m faster, and I plan to save my rage for Le Manchot. I whip out my gun and hold it to his chest. “Fuck around and find out. Do you know who I am?”
He eyes my hand, “I’m sorry, boss,” he whimpers no longer, Mr. tough guy.
“The next time my number one tells you not to piss me off, I suggest you listen.” I curse at him, muttering insults in French as I shove past him.
“Harvey!” I shout inside the doors. Around me men are filling in around the exits and I shoot Clay a questioning glance. He is equally confused. Are we being double crossed or is security this tight, I wonder?
“Harvey, you better get your ass in here or I will start shooting, and you know I will. Le Manchot has Quinn hostage, and I’m in no mood to play your fucking games today.” I snap.
“Hey, hey, hey, calm down, boss,” Harvey soothes as he emerges from the shadows. “Don’t shoot anyone. What seems to be the problem?”
“For starters, these men are all worthless. They better learn my name and my face. They need to learn some damn respect. The next time I show my face in this club, I want to be treated like I own the fucking place.” I growl.
