Page 60 of Beastly Armory
“What do we do about her?” Derichs tries to contain her floundering body, the silk negligee she wore working its way up to her waist, exposing her lacy thong.
Scanning her up and down, I take a deep breath to try to gather some brain cells back. I need to think. I’ve never had to kill a woman before. Not that I am opposed, but something doesn’t sit right with me about it. “Can you keep quiet?” I ask her.
Derichs lowers his palm enough so she can talk. “Yes, yes, I’ll be quiet.” What little light the hallway afforded makes the tears on her cheeks glisten like a road on a rainy night.
From behind her, Derichs shakes his head at me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, boss.”
“Please, no. Just let me go. You can have the ring. I won’t tell anyone.”
I consider my options. A gun will be heard at this hour, and I have no silencer. Perhaps a pillow could work… But I don’t want to strangle a lady to death unless it’s Livia.
“Let’s go.” Making up my mind, I give the command. Derichs reluctantly releases her body from his arms as he cocks one eyebrow at me, as if he is still unsure, but willing to follow anything I say. We shove our guns back in their holsters and dart toward the front door. Now that my adrenaline is wearing off, dull pain invades every muscle. My vision is cloudy from the lack of oxygen I sustained in the dead man’s vice grip.
I reach for my mask but shove it in my pocket insteadof wearing it. It was too late to put it back on once the woman saw me. Hopefully, she didn’t get a good look at my face in the dim lights.
My voice comes out hoarse when I tell Derichs, “You gotta drive. I don’t know if I can even see right now. Go straight to Tony’s place. I don’t want this ring on me any longer than it has to be.”
We jump inside, and Derichs revs the engine before darting out into the city streets. He’s a good driver. If anyone is allowed to drive my baby, it’s him. My eyes slowly regain their focus as I wipe up blood from my nose and take some deep breaths, each swallow of air into my lungs restoring my sight. Resting my head back on the seat, I try to relax my body. The drive will be several hours, but Derichs doesn’t let off the gas.
He pulls over at a few rest areas for us along the journey, but we never stop for long. We pause twice for gas, switching out drivers, but motor toward Cliff Harbor as fast as possible, one of us trying to catch some naps in the passenger seat while the other finds their way to Nikolai. The jewel feels like a homing beacon in my pocket, and the less time I have it on me, the better.
Mid-morning, a guard opens the gate for us once we reach the mansion. Ovid greets us at the door and shuffles us to the office. The silk dressing robe Tony wears rides up his arm as he waves us inside with a rotating motion of his hand. Before he can lounge back in his leather desk chair, I take two long strides and drop the ring in his open palm. “Will that do?”
As if I just created new matter from nothing, hegawks at the object, his intense eyes never leaving it as he says, “Please, please sit.”
“Excuse me, sir, but we’ve been driving a long way.” I glance at my tank, who’s shifting from foot to foot behind my left shoulder. “I don’t think either of us wants to sit right now.” My back aches. I’m only twenty-eight, but between the years of fighting and now driving for hours, there’s no way I’m going to ease back in one of his awkward puffy chairs. Not only that, but the guy is creepy. The way he looked at my foxy was enough for me to itch to see his blood pouring from some orifice. Best not to trust myself to stay around him for very long.
Nikolai rummages in the drawers behind his desk before he produces a jeweler’s loupe. Prominent white teeth crawl out from behind his wide lips as he mutters to himself, “Yes. This is perfect.” He takes a deep breath and sighs longingly. “How did you ever convince the little fox?”
I grab my crotch pointedly. “You know how women are.”
With an opening smack of his lips, Tony busts out a loud laugh as Derichs’s jaw drops. Poor guy looks appalled.
“Whatever works, my man. I dig it. Good luck to you. You’ll be hearing from Tiny Jim out there to set things up in Gnarled Pine Hollow. He’ll take good care of you. Enjoy.” Standing, he sticks out his hand, and I shake it briefly. Business done, I turn to head out the door, Derichs’s deep eyes scanning my face, still stunned by my confession.
Tiny Jim is anything but small. Ovid has us wait in the foyer when the big guy ambles out from a back hallway. His T-shirt clad arms can barely bend to hold his phone when we exchange numbers, veiny biceps twitching as he does.
Ovid opens the front door for us and leads us back to my car. Derichs follows closely behind with his stare still palpable on my back. Once inside, I start the engine for the long drive home, fully recovered from the night’s activities. Derichs’s head turns, as if he’s waiting patiently for me to speak.
Amused, I take off out of the drive and ask, “What?”
“‘You know how women are?’”
“Yeah, sometimes I can read people well. It’ll keep him from trying to get with Livia and stealing her family’s heirloom. Hopefully, he nor anyone else knows what went down with Zayne and we never hear about that ring again.”
Derichs snorts dramatically as we head onto the main road. “Since when do you care about a Von Dovish heirloom?” His face smirks so hard, I want to smack the expression off. Instead, I reach over and slap the back of the head while his mouth broadens into a wide grin as he laughs, the sound so joyfully contagious, I join in.
A few days later, I’m training in the basement alone. Derichs got time off to see his woman while Jakob has been busy keeping an eye on my sister, making sure thatkid Wyatt doesn’t even breathe near her. So far, I’m told it’s working.
Fritz pops his head downstairs and announces formally, “A Miss Livia Von Dovish to see you, sir.”
Snagging a rough white towel from the bench, I rake it over my neck and face. “Okay, send her down.” Despite just working out, my pulse spikes higher as the excitement of seeing her washes over me, and I chug a bottle of water to cleanse my dry mouth.
Long, sculpted legs are the first thing I notice, covered with some type of leather thigh-high boots. Hips, covered with a barely-there skirt, gently curve up to her taut abs. As my eyes drink up her body, all I see is smooth tattooed skin, ripe for cutting with my blade. She’s only wearing a tiny sports bra looking top, causing the blood that was pounding in my ears to rush into my groin when I get to her full, round tits, which try to jump out of her shirt and into my mouth. Hmm, this raven is certainly dressed for an occasion, but what kind?
“Hey,” she says, and the sound is like auditory porn for my dick.
“Hey,” I respond as casually as I can, but I’m unable to stop from roving over her body like I’m looking for water on Mars. “What’s up?”