Stray
Page 123
“And the one in the house?” Miguel asked, stroking my cheek with his free hand. “The one who shouted your name?”
He already knew about Brian, so it would do me no good to lie. “Brian,” I cal ed, but my voice came out hoarse, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “Brian, come on out.”
A soft, low-pitched growl met my ears, and I felt Miguel twist to glance behind us. Brian had Shifted. That’s what had taken him so long.
“Over there with your friends,” Miguel ordered, and Brian complied, growling as he eased past us to stand between Marc and Parker, just as Lucas joined them.
“This is quite a gathering, but I can only think of one thing we have in common.” His free hand slid down my left arm, over my waist, and around my hip.
Marc stepped forward, stil growling. The hand around my throat tightened even more, making my breaths short and shal ow. “Get back,” Miguel ordered, and his voice made it clear why Eric and Sean had followed his orders. His was not a voice to be ignored.
But Marc stood his ground. His eyes were spheres of reflected light, focused just above and behind me.
“You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your tabby, would you?” Miguel adjusted his grip on my neck, his fingers forcing my chin up. He was no longer choking me. Instead, short, jagged fingernails dug into the skin to the left of my windpipe, his thumb mirroring them on the other side. He wouldn’t bother with breaking my neck now. He would just crush my throat. Or rip it out altogether. Of course, if he did, the guys would make short work of him. That wouldn’t help me though, would it?
Marc’s eyes flashed at me as if in apology, and he stepped back. But he never stopped growling.
“What do you want?” Parker asked, his voice taut with tension.
“Why ask foolish questions?” Miguel’s accent was crisp in my ear. “Ask me what happened to your other cat in the woods. Ask me where Sean is. Ask me where Luiz is. Ask how I got this deep into your territory without getting caught. But don’t insult your own intel igence by asking for answers you already have.”
Unperturbed, Parker tried again. “Where’s Luiz?”
“That’s better,” Miguel said, sounding legitimately pleased by the new inquiry.
“Instead of answering, let me ask you a question.” He barreled on, without waiting for a reply. “Have you had any trouble with humans? Any women missing? Any bodies found partial y consumed? Because Luiz has a…a taste, shall we say?” Delight resonated in his voice, and my chest tightened. He was entirely too happy with his word choice. “Yes, he has a taste for human women. He likes them young and pretty. And raw. And three days ago I sent him on a project in your territory.”
Project? Was he talking about the girl murdered in Oklahoma? Had Miguel ordered a hit on a human woman? Or women? Why?
Parker and Vic exchanged a glance. They knew about the human murders. We all knew about them. We just hadn’t known enough about Luiz.
“He’s a friend of yours?” Vic asked, stepping slowly toward the far edge of the path.
Miguel’s chin scratched my neck as he spoke. “My brother, and my business partner.”
“Who do you work for?” Lucas asked.
“We work for no one. We are…independent dealers.”
Independent dealers. Riiiiight. As if what he did could ever be defined by such a benign term.
Lucas frowned. “Who hired you?”
“Our client list is confidential.”
What the hell? Was Miguel under the delusion that grand phrasing made his business legitimate? Or honorable? Or valuable? As different as the U.S. Prides were from those in Central and South America, they did have a few things in common.
Like strays. No matter how important Miguel thought he was, the truth was that he was a stray, a second-class citizen. His “clients” might be wil ing to let him do their dirty work, but they’d never invite him to their table. Never.
“Any idea where we can find Luiz?” This came from Parker.
“Follow the trail of bodies. Each time he fails, there will be a new one.”
That was enough for Vic. He didn’t care about Miguel’s cryptic answers. He didn’t care about Luiz and his human women. He only cared about getting me away from Miguel so he could avenge his sister and brother. “You know we won’t let you leave with her,” he said.
Miguel laughed against my cheek, and my skin crawled with revulsion. “You won’t let me leave without her, either, so I’ll take my chances with the bitch.” His tongue slithered into my left ear, and I tried to jerk my head away, but his grip on my neck stopped me.
“You want the truth?” Vic asked, his voice cold and hard with hatred. “You’re right. We won’t let you leave. But if you let her go, we’l make it fast and easy. No pain. You have my word.” He paused, and I saw the lie in his eyes. He wanted Miguel to suffer, and he was not alone.
When Vic continued, I could barely hear him. “But if you touch her again, I swear we’l rip you apart one piece at a time and show you the bits as they come off.”
Miguel laughed again, his chest shaking against my back. “I’ve already had my hands all over her.
Haven’t you seen her face?” His right hand tilted my chin toward Vic while his left hand slid beneath Carissa’s halter top and across my bruised ribs. I hadn’t worn a bra because of the spaghetti straps, so when he cupped my breast, he touched bare skin. He squeezed, and tears blurred my vision. Not from pain, but from humiliation and the first infant flames of true rage.
He already knew about Brian, so it would do me no good to lie. “Brian,” I cal ed, but my voice came out hoarse, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “Brian, come on out.”
A soft, low-pitched growl met my ears, and I felt Miguel twist to glance behind us. Brian had Shifted. That’s what had taken him so long.
“Over there with your friends,” Miguel ordered, and Brian complied, growling as he eased past us to stand between Marc and Parker, just as Lucas joined them.
“This is quite a gathering, but I can only think of one thing we have in common.” His free hand slid down my left arm, over my waist, and around my hip.
Marc stepped forward, stil growling. The hand around my throat tightened even more, making my breaths short and shal ow. “Get back,” Miguel ordered, and his voice made it clear why Eric and Sean had followed his orders. His was not a voice to be ignored.
But Marc stood his ground. His eyes were spheres of reflected light, focused just above and behind me.
“You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your tabby, would you?” Miguel adjusted his grip on my neck, his fingers forcing my chin up. He was no longer choking me. Instead, short, jagged fingernails dug into the skin to the left of my windpipe, his thumb mirroring them on the other side. He wouldn’t bother with breaking my neck now. He would just crush my throat. Or rip it out altogether. Of course, if he did, the guys would make short work of him. That wouldn’t help me though, would it?
Marc’s eyes flashed at me as if in apology, and he stepped back. But he never stopped growling.
“What do you want?” Parker asked, his voice taut with tension.
“Why ask foolish questions?” Miguel’s accent was crisp in my ear. “Ask me what happened to your other cat in the woods. Ask me where Sean is. Ask me where Luiz is. Ask how I got this deep into your territory without getting caught. But don’t insult your own intel igence by asking for answers you already have.”
Unperturbed, Parker tried again. “Where’s Luiz?”
“That’s better,” Miguel said, sounding legitimately pleased by the new inquiry.
“Instead of answering, let me ask you a question.” He barreled on, without waiting for a reply. “Have you had any trouble with humans? Any women missing? Any bodies found partial y consumed? Because Luiz has a…a taste, shall we say?” Delight resonated in his voice, and my chest tightened. He was entirely too happy with his word choice. “Yes, he has a taste for human women. He likes them young and pretty. And raw. And three days ago I sent him on a project in your territory.”
Project? Was he talking about the girl murdered in Oklahoma? Had Miguel ordered a hit on a human woman? Or women? Why?
Parker and Vic exchanged a glance. They knew about the human murders. We all knew about them. We just hadn’t known enough about Luiz.
“He’s a friend of yours?” Vic asked, stepping slowly toward the far edge of the path.
Miguel’s chin scratched my neck as he spoke. “My brother, and my business partner.”
“Who do you work for?” Lucas asked.
“We work for no one. We are…independent dealers.”
Independent dealers. Riiiiight. As if what he did could ever be defined by such a benign term.
Lucas frowned. “Who hired you?”
“Our client list is confidential.”
What the hell? Was Miguel under the delusion that grand phrasing made his business legitimate? Or honorable? Or valuable? As different as the U.S. Prides were from those in Central and South America, they did have a few things in common.
Like strays. No matter how important Miguel thought he was, the truth was that he was a stray, a second-class citizen. His “clients” might be wil ing to let him do their dirty work, but they’d never invite him to their table. Never.
“Any idea where we can find Luiz?” This came from Parker.
“Follow the trail of bodies. Each time he fails, there will be a new one.”
That was enough for Vic. He didn’t care about Miguel’s cryptic answers. He didn’t care about Luiz and his human women. He only cared about getting me away from Miguel so he could avenge his sister and brother. “You know we won’t let you leave with her,” he said.
Miguel laughed against my cheek, and my skin crawled with revulsion. “You won’t let me leave without her, either, so I’ll take my chances with the bitch.” His tongue slithered into my left ear, and I tried to jerk my head away, but his grip on my neck stopped me.
“You want the truth?” Vic asked, his voice cold and hard with hatred. “You’re right. We won’t let you leave. But if you let her go, we’l make it fast and easy. No pain. You have my word.” He paused, and I saw the lie in his eyes. He wanted Miguel to suffer, and he was not alone.
When Vic continued, I could barely hear him. “But if you touch her again, I swear we’l rip you apart one piece at a time and show you the bits as they come off.”
Miguel laughed again, his chest shaking against my back. “I’ve already had my hands all over her.
Haven’t you seen her face?” His right hand tilted my chin toward Vic while his left hand slid beneath Carissa’s halter top and across my bruised ribs. I hadn’t worn a bra because of the spaghetti straps, so when he cupped my breast, he touched bare skin. He squeezed, and tears blurred my vision. Not from pain, but from humiliation and the first infant flames of true rage.
