by Selina Woods
“You have information regarding the death of Kell?” he asked, taking a sip of his tumbler of a golden liquid.
“Sorry, no,” I answered. “Neither I nor my partner killed him, though we did have words with him. Kell tried to extort more payment from us when we have an agreement with you to pay twice monthly.”
“I’d have killed him myself for that, had I known.”
I grinned without humor. “I do recall mentioning that to Kell.”
Those pale eyes didn’t smile even if his lips did. “Do you have an inkling as to who did kill him? I merely ask as I wish to reward that individual.”
“Again, sorry. I went to the market this morning and was told he was killed. That’s all I know.”
Taking a sip of the whiskey, I discovered it tasted richer and was more flavorful of most of the stuff in the bars around town. “This is good.”
“Thank you.”
A weird silence descended between us where he stared at me, and I drank the whiskey. I had no idea what more he might want, if he suspected me of lying or if he simply wanted the company for a while. Or maybe he was trying to find a way of dismissing me. I refused to squirm, or avoid his steady gaze, or even permit myself to feel nervous. He might be a tough tiger, but I was a pretty tough lion if he wanted a fight.
I finished my whiskey and declined to ask for a refill. Thus, I waited, wondering what his game was. At last, I found out.
“You appear to be a very strong lion,” Duke said casually, as though remarking on the weather.
“I suppose.”
“Ever kill anyone?”
“Nope.”
“Care to try your hand with me?”
“Nope.”
That answer seemed to surprise him, for his brows lifted by a hair, and his lips thinned for a moment. “I like to test myself against strong shifters,” he continued. “A fight, you see. Primitive, yes, but oh so exciting.”
“I suspect that you haven’t lost a fight yet.”
“I have not.”
“And the losers? They’re dead?”
“Yes.”
I quirked my own brow sardonically. “I reckon I’m not permitted to say no?”
“Oh, now where would be the fun in that?” he asked, then laughed. “You kill me, and all this is yours. Only the strongest fighter can succeed me.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Come now,” he purred. “Every hunter craves to be at the top of the food chain. You best me, you are the new Duke: the king of all you survey.”
“And if I kill you,” I said, “your goons will gun me down despite all this fancy talk of me taking your place. Right?”
For the first time, Duke looked pissed. His eyes flattened, and his lips slid back from his teeth. “Never dare question my honor.”
I grinned at him. “Then I want it in writing,” I said softly. “In writing, and your lieutenant hearing it from your own mouth. He will stay and witness our fight, and if I win, by killing you, he has no choice but to serve me.”
“I should kill you right now.”
Shrugging, I stood up. “You can try. Either you’re too cowardly to give me what I ask, or I’m walking out of here.”
Duke stood up, his lips curled in a soundless snarl. Whipping a piece of paper from the sideboard he wrote on it and thrust the paper at me. I eyed it.
“Sign it.”
He bent again, scribbled his signature, then hit a button. “Ramsey, get up here.”
I gazed around at the luxurious furnishings. “Be a shame to get bloodstains on all this nice stuff.”
He grinned tightly. “I have a room especially set aside for fighting.”
“Ah. That would keep things neat and tidy.”
The elevator pinged, and, a moment later, a tall shifter with a scar down his left cheek entered. He glanced at me without batting an eye, then faced Duke. “Are you planning another fight?”
Duke waved at me. “This one wants a witness.”
“Tell him.”
Growing angry at being bossed about, Duke scowled dangerously, but said to the lieutenant, “If he wins by successfully killing me, there will be no retribution against him, and you all will give him your complete loyalty as you gave me.”
“Understood.”
Ramsey’s blue eyes flicked to me, then back to his master, clearly dismissing my ability to kill Duke. I myself had no idea if I could. But as I wasn’t leaving the penthouse without first fighting this lunatic, I might as well try. I had only my life to lose. I briefly thought of Kiana and the boys, but quickly got her out of my mind.
Duke gestured, untying his colorful robe. “The room is this way.”
Deciding he wouldn’t cheat by attacking me while my back was turned, I followed his terse instructions to walk down a short hallway to a closed door. I opened it upon a bare room with only a large mat on the floor. It scented faintly of blood, and I absently wondered how many had died in here.
Ramsey closed it behind him and leaned against the heavy wood. “Only one of you leaves the room alive.”
I glanced at Duke to find him clad in only a loincloth. If he intended to impress me with his array of muscles that rippled under his skin as he walked, I wasn’t. In a possibly immature gesture of my own, as we certainly wouldn’t be fighting as humans, I stripped off my shirt to display my broad shoulders and muscles.
Duke paced back and forth, warming himself up by stretching his limbs, all the while his amber eyes trailed up and down my body. “Like what you see?” I asked, my voice a drawl. “Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let you screw me.”
He stopped, staring at me in cold shock.
“Or how about I screw you? Want my shaft riding your ass, hard and deep?”
My taunt got me exactly what I had hoped for—my opponent angry and charging me in a hot, unthinking rage. Duke switched into full tiger mode and launched himself straight at me, fangs bared and claws ready to sink into my flesh. I dodged swiftly to the side, still on two legs, as his heavy weight propelled him past me, and into a humiliating crash into the wall.
My swift glance at Ramsey showed me his anger at what I was doing—enraging Duke into not thinking right—but there was little he could do about it. This was a battle to the death, and if I chose to have my enemy on uneven footing, well, life sucks, and then you die.
As Duke spun around, roaring his rage, I faced him fully, a sneer on my lips. “Oh. Sorry,” I said. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
Duke charged again, and this time I let him take me down, his fangs at my throat. One thing lions had that tigers didn’t was a thick heavy mane that effectively protected the throat and neck from sharp teeth. I shifted into my lion a fraction of a second before his jaws closed on my windpipe. I was, in essence, fairly safe from suffocating immediately. His belly, however, stood wide open to my rear claws.
I dug them in deep, ripping through skin and muscles, shredding them like paper. His front claws raked my shoulders and ribs yet struck nothing vital even as mine sliced across his sensitive ears, tearing, gouging at his neck, digging for his carotid or jugular or both.
Duke flung himself off me before I managed to either snag my claws on his entrails or open an artery. Up on four legs in a flash, I roared my challenge as I charged. He met me full-on, and we both reared back on our hind legs, biting and slashing at one another’s faces, trying to get past each other’s guards. Try as he might, his attempts to break my neck or bite into my throat were foiled by my mane.
He was a strong bastard; I’d give him that. He had experience and weight on his side, while I had youth, agility, and, I hoped, cunning on mine. Our paws slipped and slid on the blood slicking the mat, putting us both off balance. I faked a long slide and fell under him.
Instantly, he lunged over my head, his powerful jaws and fangs seeking to splinter my spine near my hindquarters. Finding firm traction on the mat, I lunged upward, my head slamming into his torn belly, and heaved. Duke flew over my shoulders to
land heavily on his hips and shoulders. I distinctly heard his breath whoosh from his lungs.
Whirling, I pounced on him, seeking his throat with my fangs. He wasn’t there. He caught me flat-footed and hit me from the side with all his tremendous weight. I rolled over and came to my paws fast, ready to meet his charge. He struck me hard, pushing me backward across the slippery mat, his jaws crunching down on my throat again.
This time, he reared high, taking me with him, and I knew instantly what he would try to do. If he threw me hard enough to the side without letting go of my neck, he might succeed in snapping it like a stick. Oh, no you don’t, you fucker. Instinctively, I curled my body into a ball, my legs and tail drawn inward.
When he flung me around, my body certainly went where he directed. Yet, as my weight compacted was far heavier than he had anticipated, I slid from his jaws as though oiled. I landed, still curled into a ball, and rolled against the wall, intact and unharmed. On my feet, I snarled, my eyes flattened as he stared at me in astonishment.
“Come on, asshole,” I raged. “Come on.”
Not much used to be called an asshole, Duke charged again. I let him come within a foot of me before I melted out of his path for a second time. Even as he slammed into the wall, he snagged me with his right front claws. With them buried deep within my shoulder, I couldn’t dislodge them easily, but still had use of my own mighty jaws.
I seized hold of his foreleg and snapped it. He roared in agony and rage and tried to yank it away from me as well as sink his fangs deep into the back of my neck. Hardly feeling his teeth, save that of a pressure back there, I leaped sideways, spinning and taking his busted front leg with me.
Twisting turning, chewing down hard with everything I had, I succeeded in tearing his leg from him. Duke screamed. He stumbled backward, away, hobbling on three legs, still shrieking in what sounded like panic as well as pain. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ramsey start forward as though to run to help him, then hesitate.
Spitting his bloody leg from me, I hit Duke broadside. My weight threw him off his remaining three legs, and he landed on his back. I closed my jaws on his throat and bit deep, my eyes squeezed closed. He struggled, but as he was unable to reach me with his rear claws, he was as helpless as a fawn.
It briefly occurred to me to grant him mercy, to let him live. As soon as that thought struck, two images hit me. The first was of him not offering me any such compassion if our roles were reversed. And the second of Duke sending his packs to kill me once I thought I was safe.
My fangs hit his jugular. His blood flooded my mouth, its heady sweetness gagging me. I refused to let go until his struggles ceased, and the flow of blood into my mouth ended. Even then, I held on tightly until I knew for certain his heart had stopped beating.
Dropping his corpse, I spun around, half expecting Ramsey to attack me.
He didn’t. Instead, he stared from me to Duke’s body, then slowly back to my face. He dipped his chin once in a slow nod. “You are our new leader,” he intoned. “What are your orders, sir?”
Chapter Four
I wasn’t much used to being waited on and found it uncomfortable when Duke’s private healer was called to tend my various injuries. Duke’s massive corpse was hauled away and Ramsey seemed surprised when I didn’t order it hung in public as an announcement of his death and my new status as the city’s ruler.
“That’s barbaric,” I growled, sipping a whiskey. “Just bury him decently, will you?”
“As you wish, Logan.”
Of course, I had an army at my door, and they soon became an army of cleaners to clean that room at the end of the hall and take the mat out to burn it. “I don’t need the stench of blood bugging me all the time,” I snapped. “Clean it up, then get back to work. Whatever that is.”
The healer, a trim, tidy man in spectacles, dared smile at me as I sat bare-chested on a stool as he cleaned and carefully sewed the many gashes across my back and shoulders from Duke’s claws. “What are you smiling at?”
He shrugged, yet kept on with his work. “Perhaps nothing. But perhaps at the best thing this city has ever seen.”
“I don’t know about that,” I grumbled, taking another mouthful of whiskey as he poked his needle into my flesh. “I didn’t want this damn job.”
He winked. “That’s why you’re going to be terrific at it.”
Having no idea what he was talking about, I stared morosely at a painting while he stitched me up and the goons used disinfectant cleaner on the room. When they left, and the healer packed his things away, I stood up and paced around my new digs.
“Take these antibiotics,” he said, handing me a bottle. “Those cuts could get infected easily. If you feel feverish or in too much pain, call me.”
“Thanks,” I replied, then watched him head for the elevator and ride it down.
Restless, not knowing what to do, I went to the wide, double glass doors and swung them open. Out on the huge balcony, I leaned on the railing and stared out over the surging blue sea. “What the hell do I do now?” I muttered.
The hot, humid air felt like a blast furnace after the cool interior of the penthouse. My various stitched slashes burned like fire, but I dared not call the healer back and ask for painkillers. I needed every wit I possessed to stay alive now. I had little doubt the enforcers, led by Ramsey, would test my strength and resolve by trying to kill me.
I gazed down at the few boats in the marina, heavily guarded by goons, my goons, to prevent any citizen from escaping the city. Just last night, I spoke with Kiana and her brothers about leaving Miami. Now I ruled it. I could do anything I wanted, order folks killed for any reason, or none at all, take anything from them that I wished.
“I’m a lion,” I murmured. “But I’m not a predator. I don’t want to prey on simple people for my selfish gain.”
Still restless, hurting, I paced around the colossal suite, looking at Duke’s clothes and deciding they weren’t to my taste. Exploring his bedroom, I thought about Kiana lying on it, naked, her black hair spread across the pillows. “Now she’ll hardly trust me,” I said, my tone bitter. “I’m the enemy.”
The sudden urge to talk to her struck me, and I found my shirt I took off before my battle with Duke. I pulled it on and searched Duke’s things for a gun, knowing he would have one somewhere. Finding a semi-automatic handgun in a drawer, I shoved it into my jeans in the small of my back. Not very familiar with guns, I still knew how to remove the safety and shoot.
I then strode to the elevator, hoping Duke had ordered his enforcers to drive him places. I never learned to drive as an orphan and a street punk, but then, few people did. Riding the car down, I braced myself for just about anything. Duke was known for his brutality, yet he was also fair in many respects. I had no idea what his enforcers might think of his replacement.
The doors opened with a hiss and a ping.
I stepped out and gazed around at the faces staring back at me. Thugs with rifles stood at almost rigid attention, like soldiers under inspection, and I half expected them to salute as I passed. It looked, at least for the moment, like they respected, and perhaps feared, me as their new boss.
“I need a car and a driver,” I ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
A shifter hit an intercom button and spoke into it. He then straightened. “It’ll be here in a moment, sir.”
With a short nod, I passed them by, my back itching where their eyes watched me. Gaining power was one thing; I suspected holding onto it quite another. Dare I show any weakness or mercy, and they’d no doubt swarm me under by sheer numbers and rip me apart. Can I be as brutal as Duke? To murder others so I can stay alive?
Within minutes, a sleek black car pulled smoothly to the curb. An enforcer sat in front with the driver while another stepped out to open the door for me. I got in and decided against telling the thug to stay out when he got in with me. For the moment, anyway, they would guard me with their lives.
“Where to, sir?”
“The diner on Sixth and Commerce,” I replied.
The driver pulled away from the building and headed out for the turnpike toward the distant structures of the downtown area. I stared out the window at the light traffic, the blue-green ocean, my thoughts scrambling for purchase like a squirrel on ice.
Will Kiana turn away from me? Will Derek? Am I still one of the good guys with morals and ethics and a need for a civilized rule of law? What am I now? I supposed time might answer those questions, but for now, I had none. I could only hope that Kiana and Derek would stand by me when I needed them most.
The car pulled up to the curb in front of the diner, and through the windows, I saw people scatter like flocks of pigeons. They knew that car, and they knew trouble and death came with it. The enforcer in the front got out to open the door for me. I stepped out and gazed at the terrified expressions of those who hurried away while glancing back over their shoulders.
“Wait here,” I ordered the thugs. “I’ll be right back.”
“But we need to protect you, sir,” protested the one who had sat with me.
“I don’t need you frightening people,” I snapped. “I need to speak with someone alone, and you will wait right here.”
Without giving them time to answer, I walked quickly through the doors of the diner and found it nearly empty. What few patrons there were, gawked at me, and if they didn’t know what Duke looked like, they no doubt thought I was him.
Kiana had also seen me leave the car and saw the goons standing on the sidewalk. “Logan?”
Her expression was rightfully tense and confused as I strode up to her, glancing around for anyone close enough to listen. “Can I talk to you?” I said, my voice low.
“It’ll have to be quick,” she replied. “I can’t risk my job.”