I slid to the ground and dropped unceremoniously onto my ass. A whirl of stars filled my vision as the pain caught up to me. There was a meaty thunk, which I heard rather than felt, as my head collided with the brick wall. The blur of Marcus’s fist smashed into my forehead before I even saw it. “Why, you looking to get lucky?” It wasn’t like I felt the need to protect Scarlett, she could take care of herself-being an angel tended to help in that department-it just went against my nature to give in to bullies. Only she would be so willfully spiteful as to rattle the cage of a demon as powerful as Baalth. However, I knew the instant he asked he could only be looking for one woman Scarlett. “Where’s the bitch?” Marcus asked, the smile gone, his eyes feral.Īs a modern man, relatively speaking, I’ve known many women who would have stood up and declared themselves the bitch he was looking for. I knew then it was business, not personal. Dressed conservatively in an understated gray suit, a look of solemn determination etched into his face. My stomach tightened into a hard knot as I recognized him Alexander Poe, Baalth’s psychic enforcer. I peered around D’anatello’s hulking shoulder to see an older man striding toward us. Trigg, but what you can do for Baalth,” a reserved, measured voice answered from behind Marcus. “What can I do for you, Marcus?” I asked, not really expecting an answer that didn’t involve his fists. Turns out, he’s not the most forgiving of fellows. It wasn’t so long ago I took a 2x4 to that gleaming dome of his. I did so, hesitantly, expecting to be hit again. He gestured for me to get up, taking a short step back to give me room. Fortunately for me, his bald head and pearly white teeth provided enough to see by. His Armanisuited bulk blocked out what little light filtered between the buildings. Built like a silverback gorilla on steroids, he hovered over me enjoying the moment. While a pretty big guy myself, certainly not lacking in the muscle department, I had nothing on Marcus. The big bruiser-Marcus D’anatello-just smiled. “Well, good morning to you too,” I mumbled, looking up through watering eyes. Judging by the snarling bastard who stood over me, his meaty fist dotted with my blood, those days were gone. There was a time when being related to Lucifer was enough to keep the proverbial wolves from the door.
0 kommentar(er)
