Caged Killer

by Erin M. Leaf

  “You two deserve each other.” Frank stood up. “Come on. I’ve got more beer. You look like you could use a drink.” He headed for the door. “I know I could,” he muttered. “And nothing more is happening tonight with that storm out there.”

  “Thanks, but I’m gonna head out,” Knox said, following him into the hall. The beer he’d had earlier wasn’t nearly enough to settle the itch in his gut that told him bad shit was about to go down, but he was beat. Following Mick for the past few months had put him on the ragged edge of exhaustion. The frigging thief never seemed to take any downtime. “I’ve got to get some sleep.”

  “Suit yourself.” Frank locked the door. “There’s a back exit.” He pointed down the dim hall.

  “Thanks, Frank.” Knox buttoned his jacket and headed towards the door.

  “Don’t get yourself killed, Knox,” Frank called.

  Knox tipped an imaginary hat at him, then slipped out into a back alley. Rain and wind hit him in the face, cold and sharp. It seemed appropriate, somehow, that this shitty night would end with a drenching downpour. The gutters on the dilapidated buildings around him hung half off the edges of the roofs, pouring water right onto the street. “Fucking mess,” Knox muttered, not sure if it was the weather or Mick’s insane quest to bring down the biggest drug dealer in Newark that had him grimacing.

  Not that it matters. Either way I’m fucked. Knox turned up the collar of his jacket and headed out into the storm.

  Chapter Seven

  “Fuck,” Mick muttered, teeth gritted. He glanced out the kitchen window. The sun glittered down on the wet trees in the backyard after the morning’s storm like nothing had happened. Mick knew better. His three hired guys stared at him, probably afraid to say a word. Rage was never helpful when extracting information.

  “Did you check the house on Green Street?” he asked, biting out each word to keep himself from screaming at them. Or worse, carving them into little pieces. I hired them because they were the best and they lose my sister after only a week on the job.

  “Yeah. The place is cleaned out,” Marcus said. He was the most competent of the three bodyguards, and the oldest. His silvered hair made him look distinguished.

  Right now, Mick didn’t give a fuck about Marcus’s references, his experience, or his supposed goddamn competence. “I am still not entirely clear on how my little sister, a fifteen year old girl, slipped past three grown men.” He leaned on the table, gripping the edge to keep himself from unsheathing one of his blades. God, he wanted to cut someone open so badly right now. A little blood would calm him right down, but unfortunately it tended to have the opposite effect on his victims. And right now, he needed information more than he needed soothing. “Three highly trained grown men. Suckered by a little girl.” He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stop talking. Silence would get them to spill the details better than he could by yapping on and on. He glared at the men.

  “She said she had to use the bathroom,” Bradley offered, clearly uneasy. His brown hair flopped over his forehead and into his eyes.

  Probably why my sister got away from him. He can’t see past his stupid hair. Mick ground his teeth together so hard pain stabbed through his ears. “And you let her?”

  Bradley glanced at Jack, then at Marcus. “She said she had female stuff to do in there.” He licked his lips. “We covered the exits.”

  “Obviously, you didn’t cover all the exits, or she wouldn’t be missing.” Mick stood up, fists clenched. “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t slice you into tiny pieces right now.”

  Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “There are three of us and only one of you.” His lip curled.

  “Wow. I thought you had more brains than that.” Mick stared into the man’s cold brown eyes until they dropped down and away. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” He looked at all three of the bodyguards, fingers itching for blood.

  “It was just a little coffee shop. There was no one around. We were the only customers.” Bradley shoved his hands into his pockets. “She probably ran away. Kids do that.”

  Ran away? It was all Mick could do to keep from yelling. Aileen wouldn’t run away, not now, not with everything he’d been doing the past several months to take down Tony DiLorenzo’s organization. She was smarter than that. Mick glared at Bradley. “You stupid fuck.” The doorbell rang before he could continue. The older bodyguard made as if to go answer it, but Mick shook his head. “Sit down, Marcus. I’m not done with you yet.”

  “Were you expecting someone?” Marcus asked. Of the three men, he was the only one who seemed even remotely aware that they had a big fucking problem.

  “Not exactly.” Mick headed for the front door. No, he wasn’t expecting anyone, but with his sister missing, he wasn’t exactly surprised. DiLorenzo probably had one of his guys standing outside right now, ready to tell him that the bastard had Aileen. Ready to taunt him with the news. He flicked a blade into his right hand. He had no illusions and very little self-control left. If he had to kill someone on his front stoop, he would, and fuck what the neighbors thought.

  “You shouldn’t answer that,” Jack called across the open space.

  Fucking open concept houses. Where was a good door when you needed one? Mick thought, irritated. “Sit down and keep your mouth shut, Jack.” Mick scowled as the doorbell rang again, and then someone started pounding on the door. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. He strode across the tiled foyer area and yanked it open.

  “Hello, Mick.” Knox stood on his porch like a damned prophet of doom, dark eyes swimming with some emotion Mick couldn’t interpret. “You’ve got a big problem.” He spoke as if he hadn’t been gone for months. As if he hadn’t been stalking Mick from a distance almost every time Mick went out to poke holes in DiLorenzo’s business, like a pervert with a thief fixation.

  Well, shit. Mick stared at the man, dick twitching in his pants. He’d been trying to deny he’d missed Knox for the past five months, but clearly he’d failed. This, I did not see coming.

  Unexpectedly, Knox pushed inside and closed the door behind him. His gaze flicked down to the blade in Mick’s hand, then back up again, not the least bit intimidated. “You’ve got a big fucking problem, and that little piece of steel isn’t going to solve it.”

  Despite his shock, Mick had Knox shoved up against the door with his blade at his throat in half a second. Anger surged through him, hot and strange. “You don’t know a damn thing about my problems.” His dick swelled against the placket of his jeans as Knox’s scent wafted over him. Fuck, I’ve got it bad. He pressed the tip of the knife into Knox’s neck, watching the tiniest bead of blood well up, then drip down into his collar. He shuddered.

  “I’ve got a knife at your kidney, Mick,” Knox said, eyes glittering. His arms felt like iron bands around Mick’s torso. “You don’t scare me.”

  Mick ground into the assassin until his aching hard-on met Knox’s hipbone. “So, slip it in. You’ve got the balls.” He pushed harder. “Do it, Knox. Cut me.” The rage he’d been feeling before muted into insane arousal, but his frustration only grew. His sister was missing, the man he’d been hung up on for the past several months had abruptly appeared at his door … fuck. My head is going to fucking explode.

  Knox grabbed the back of his neck, weaving a fist into Mick’s too-long hair. “That fat bastard is not the kind of man you want to push over the edge,” he growled, shifting slightly against Mick’s body. “And you did it, Mick. You fucking had to play with the rabid dog, didn’t you?” His fist squeezed in Mick’s hair painfully. “You’re fucking screwed.”

  Mick shuddered when Knox’s erection brushed past his. The hand that held the knife shook, slicing deeper, right next to the scar on Knox’s neck that he’d put there all those months ago. Knox grimaced, but didn’t back down.

  “What the fuck, Knox?” Mick asked, letting his anger bleed into his voice. “Who the hell do you think you are, showing up like this?” He licked his lips. He wan
ted to fucking bite Knox. Lick the blood from his skin.

  “He likes to play with young girls.” Knox leaned into Mick’s knife, clearly not giving a shit about the blood trailing down his neck. “I warned you about him. I wrote it in blood, so it’d sink in, Mick. You ignored me, so here I am. Aileen’s an innocent, and you’re throwing her into the deep end of the pool.”

  A pang of guilt clenched his gut. Mick took a deep breath, then eased the blade away from Knox’s throat. He didn’t want to kill him. He wanted to fuck him, again and again. “As of two hours ago, he’s already got her.”

  Knox stared at him for a moment, and then he swore. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He shook Mick’s head, not gently. The hand in Mick’s hair hurt.

  Mick glared, tensing again. “Don’t fucking push me, Knox. You don’t want to do that. Not right now.” He felt like he was going to fly apart.

  “Or what?” Knox’s eyes narrowed.

  Mick leaned in, putting his mouth to Knox’s ear. “You can kill me after I get Aileen back. But right now, back the fuck off of me or we’re both going to regret it.” He inhaled, savoring the musky heat of his onetime lover. His captive. I’m fucked every which way, he thought.

  “You need help, boss?” Marcus asked from the kitchen.

  Mick snorted. As if. Those fucktards couldn’t handle this situation if he’d typed out instructions on a poster for them to follow.

  “You have a crew? I thought you worked alone?” Knox asked, letting go of his hair.

  Mick shook his head. “Bodyguards. For Aileen.”

  Knox frowned. “Seriously?” He lifted an eyebrow, quick on the uptake, as always. “Ah. And they suck at their job.”

  The expression on his face made Mick want to drag him off and strip him naked. “Yeah. It didn’t do much good. She slipped away, or was taken, a couple hours ago.” Mick shook his head. “Fuck.”

  “Boss?”

  What the hell is wrong with these guys? I could’ve been dead three times over before they figured out some shit was happening. Mick sighed, watching Knox’s expression bleed from concern for his sister down to blank neutrality. “Back down, Marcus. I’ve got this,” Mick called out before Knox did something unpredictable. Like kill everyone and burn my house down.

  “He’s got a knife at your back,” Marcus said, moving closer.

  Stifling the urge to roll his eyes, Mick watched the idiot fail to hide his Glock down near his thigh. Marcus is not as smart as I thought he was when I hired him, and that says more about me than him. I’m off my game. Mick eased away from Knox, not bothering to hide his erection. When Marcus’s eyes dropped to his groin, then skittered away, Mick smiled, tight and mean. Let him look. Stupid shit.

  “Yeah, and I had a knife at his throat. Did you miss that? Yes, you did. And also, neither of us is dead. What does that tell you, Marcus?” He turned, pushing the arm Knox held at his back down to the side. Knox let him move away, and then sheathed his blade. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door, every flexed muscle in his chest thick with menace. Mick stepped to his side, hands loose and ready for anything. Their stances screamed united front.

  Marcus stared at them. “You know each other?”

  “Oh my God, duh,” Mick muttered, itching to slice some sense into the guy. “Yes,” he said, enunciating very clearly. “We know each other.”

  Knox glanced at Mick, then at the men standing in the kitchen area. “You three aren’t too bright, are you?”

  Jack scowled, moving closer to Bradley.

  “Get out, Marcus,” Mick said, abruptly completely done with them. They’d screwed themselves when they lost his sister, and he didn’t have the time or patience to give second chances. He’d let them walk out of here alive. That was enough. “You too, Jack. Bradley.” He nodded at the guns on the table. They’d been cleaning them as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Fucking idiots. “Get your shit and get out of my house.”

  Marcus frowned, and then tilted his head. “You sure about that?”

  “Yes. Leave now.” Mick pointed at the three of them. “Your stupidity is my fault, and that’s on me, but I don’t have to put up with it anymore. Out.” He itched to get them out so he could get started on retrieving Aileen. He knew it was going to take a bit of doing, but with Knox here now… He glanced at the assassin, weirdly reassured by his presence. By rights, he should’ve killed me months ago, or at least taken off, never to be heard from again, and instead here he is. Mick couldn’t deny the little spark of joy that flared inside, even as he squashed it. He worked alone. He didn’t get attached. He liked to cut people up. None of those things was particularly suitable for dating.

  Jack glared. “You didn’t pay us.”

  Knox shifted his weight, hands falling to his sides. Mick took a deep breath, hoping Knox would let him handle this. He hated scrubbing blood off hardwood. He’d try threats first. “You lost my sister, you moron. I can cut you open and watch you try to scoop your guts up off of the floor, or you can just fucking leave.” Mick wasn’t joking. “You had one job, and you screwed it up.”

  “And there’s the guy I remember so fondly,” Knox murmured, touching a hand to his chest and running his thumb down the side of his pectoral muscle.

  Mick shot him a look.

  Knox returned his stare, bland and fake.

  Mick stifled a snort. Knox was anything but bland.

  “You can’t go after DiLorenzo by yourself,” Bradley said, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

  Mick froze. “I don’t recall mentioning that name to you, Bradley.” He flipped his blade around, gripping the sharp edge. One flick and it would go directly into the shithead’s right eye.

  Bradley went pale, eyes fixed on Mick’s knife. “Uh…”

  Knox moved forward. “And there’s your weasel, Mick.”

  Mick nodded. “Did I tell you how much I admire your instincts the last time you visited here, Knox? Because I do. I really, really do.”

  Knox snorted, and then Bradley was sprinting for the back door. Mick shot after him, leaving Marcus and Jack to Knox. He grabbed Bradley by the hair just before he hit the door, yanking the man off his feet and down onto the kitchen tile. He was on top of him and had a knife at his throat before Bradley could squeak, let alone struggle. “Where is she?” he hissed. Bradley pressed his lips together defiantly. Fucking stupid— Mick placed the tip of the blade against the skin under the man’s right eye.

  “I don’t know anything!” Bradley struggled, trying to slide out of his grasp, but Mick pushed the blade in until it hit the bone of his eye socket. Bradley tried to jerk away, but Mick put a knee against his groin.

  “Don’t fucking move, asshole. I’m a quarter of an inch from your eyeball, in case you didn’t notice. And I have zero interest in preserving your vision. Quite the contrary, in fact. I’d enjoy popping your eye out like the head of a zit.” Mick swallowed against the surge of adrenaline rushing through him. He had to be calm. Much as he’d enjoy slicing this shithead into strips, he needed to find out what the man knew about Aileen, and too much pain would derail Bradley’s ability to speak. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know!” Bradley tried to look at the knife, but it was too close to his face.

  Mick shifted the blade away, grabbing Bradley’s head and thumping it on the hard floor. Blood trickled down his cheekbone. “You know something. Spill it, asshole.” He put the knife back, fitting it perfectly into the hole he’d already made.

  Bradley winced. “DiLorenzo paid us to give him the girl. I don’t know where he took her. I swear!”

  “Fuck, Bradley. Shut up! Don’t be an idiot,” Marcus said, but then his voice choked off.

  Mick glanced up to find Jack sprawled bonelessly on the floor and Marcus with Knox’s arm around his throat.

  “I can break his neck, real easy,” Knox said, his voice perfectly smooth. “Give me a reason.” He smiled coldly.

  Marcus’s face lost all its color.

  �
�Maybe.” Mick smiled grimly and turned back to Bradley, who looked considerably more docile. Must be Knox’s way with words. I mean, I find him soothing, so why wouldn’t someone else? he joked with himself. Bradley’s gaze was fixed on Knox. Mick put the knife at his neck, just to remind him that he wasn’t to be screwed with either. “When?”

  Bradley swallowed and the blade cut into his skin with the movement. Blood flowed down his neck, hot and perfect. “When what?”

  Such a lovely color. Mick controlled a shudder. “When did you hand over my sister? And don’t lie to me.” His eyes went back to the blood as if entranced. He wanted to smear it all over. He glanced up at Knox. The killer’s expression told him he knew precisely what Mick was thinking, and he liked it. Mick gritted his teeth, reminding himself that he had a job to do right now. No jumping Knox’s bones. Focus.

  “This afternoon. God, it happened just a couple hours ago. She wanted coffee so we took her to the café in town—” Bradley shut up when Mick pushed the knife in further.

  “What time?” Mick asked, suddenly so pissed his damned hand shook.

  “Two. Two o’clock,” Marcus croaked from behind him.

  Mick nodded. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know!” Bradley eyes were red. Was he crying?

  Yes, he was. Mick blinked. He’d made someone cry with fear. Cool. Your reactions are completely skewed, a small voice murmured at the back of his head. He ignored it. He didn’t care, as long as Knox was okay with it… And wasn’t that a fucking kick in the nuts. He’d never cared what anyone else thought, except for his sister. He literally didn’t give a shit, until now. He held Knox’s gaze for a moment, reassured when he saw the killer’s approval. God, they were both so fucked in the head. He might not be good for Knox, but Knox sure wasn’t good for him, either.

  “Fucking pussy,” Knox said, his voice still calm as glass.

  “Yup.” Mick shook his head, playing along. Excitement pooled in his stomach. “Pity.”