by P. Jameson
The maid pulled the doors wide, ushering Monster into an office that looked grander than the fucking president’s. Bastian, the fucking excessive bastard, sat in a plush leather chair, puffing slowly on a cigar. His slightly balding head didn’t so much as shift as he regarded Monster with disdain.
“Why you here?” he asked, his northeastern accent coming through to make ‘here’ sound like heeyeh. “I ordered a Junkyard Dog. Not a filthy Alley Cat.”
“They were out of stock,” Monster said lazily. “Besides, you get me for free since Felix couldn’t find your missing girl. Take it or leave it. I’d rather be drinking Jack and fucking anyway.”
Not true. He hadn’t thought of fucking in so long, he wondered if he’d even remember how to. And he’d consumed a lot less whiskey since seeing his girl’s picture. He couldn’t remember her face when he was drunk, so he’d been staying a lot more sober.
Bastian narrowed his good eye and put his cigar out in the crystal ashtray. Who the fuck used a crystal ashtray? A man who thought he was king, that’s who. A fucking lord of Memphis.
“This one is a special assignment. Requires steel for balls. Can’t be soft, not even a little. You up for that?”
“My face should tell you I’m far from soft.”
Scars like his came from being fucked up a lot. Which would make anyone hard as steel.
Bastian sighed, using his cane to stand. He was a tall man. A few inches taller than Monster’s 6’3”. But his bad leg and the way he limped made him seem less.
He came around the desk, staring at Monster like he was trying to read him, and then he nodded, satisfied.
“You’ll do,” he murmured. “You’ll do just fine. A face like that is exactly what I need to scare my dolls into obedience. Follow me.”
He led Monster down a staircase and another maze of halls before reaching a plain white door in the wall. It wasn’t hidden exactly, but it looked like it was supposed to seem unimportant. Especially compare to the other doors in the house with their ornate molding and sculpted handles.
Monster followed Bastian through and into a dark hallway. This one wasn’t brightly lit. There was a small lamp in the corner, and nothing else as they maneuvered a steep thin staircase.
“I have two rules. You break these rules, and I break you. For good, understand? These are my dolls and I don’t take chances with them.”
Monster grit his teeth as the air grew colder.
“No touching the dolls. That’s number one. I have cameras on them now. Since Thirteen escaped. I see you touch one, you’re dead. Easy like that.”
“Understood.”
Another dim lamp lit the bottom of the stairs, and it was exactly as Marlee described. Dark. Cold. Hopeless.
Monster’s stomach churned. His girl was down here. He was going to see her, face to face. How was he going to keep from stealing her away to safety?
Shit, he’d promised Marlee something he didn’t know if he could keep.
“And rule number two…”
Bastian stopped outside a new door. This one plain like the first, but containing several heavy duty locks, including an electronic one. He tapped out a sequence on the keypad and pulled a chain of keys from his pocket for the rest before turning back to Monster.
“Scare the hell outta them,” he snarled. “I want them pissing their pants when they see you. Scared to even breathe, let alone escape. I want them terrified, understand? Outta their mind. You think you can do that?”
Never scare her, the voice inside objected.
But shit, Monster was here for a reason. And he had to convince Bastian he could do the job. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here to see that his girl was okay. And the not knowing had been fucking killing him. He was this close, he wouldn’t give up now.
So close to my Vegas. She was just beyond the door.
Monster smiled slow and vicious, letting Bastian see how it twisted his scars. He called on the darkest parts of him, needing to convince the asshole he was the man for the job. “I’ll be their worst fucking nightmare.”
And it worked, because Bastian nearly popped a hard-on at the promise of cruelty.
“Mmm, yes. I think you will.” His hand went to the door handle and he twisted it. “You ready to meet my dolls?”
Monster’s chest writhed with anticipation. He was going to see her. Put eyes on her. Just two more seconds...
His girl.
Fuck.
And then Bastian flung open the door, limping inside and clearing the way for Monster to follow.
Find her, find her…
The single bulb lamp gave only enough light to show him three terrified females. And none of them were his.
“Hello, dolls,” Bastian rumbled low. “Meet your new nightmare. They call him Monster.”
A shufflling under the bed caught his attention, and a small round face moved out of the shadow and into the light. Eyes so light they were gray stared at him, not looking away at the sight of his scars.
Her.
Her.
It started as a whisper.
And it would end with a bang.
******
Look for the next book in the explosive Firecats series, Heart of Glass, coming this summer!
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If you missed the prequel to Heart of Gold, you can read Malcom’s story in All is Bright.
For more about the Alley Cat curse, you can read about Sorcera who spun it, and their clan of werecats in The Ouachita Mountain Shifters series, starting with A Mate’s Wish, and continuing on through the Ouachita Mountain Shifters.
For a humorous series loosely set in this world, full of dirty racing, beer, and loads of laughs try the Dirt Track Dogs and Dirt Track Dogs: The Second Lap.
About the Author
P. Jameson likes to spend her time daydreaming, and then rearranging those dreams into heartstring-pulling stories of trial and triumph. Paranormal is her jam, so you’re sure to find said stories full of hot alpha males of the supernatural variety. She lives next door to the great Rocky Mountains with her husband and kids, who provide her with plenty of writing fodder.
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