Page 13 of Betting Blind

The footsteps echo a few more paces before going silent. I stand and wipe my blade on Paul’s jacket before putting it away and turning to face the next subject of my wrath. I’m sure I look like the perfect rendition of Lady of Death. My tights are ripped, my arms, hands, and face are covered in fresh blood, and my hair is falling all around my shoulders in a disarray of black waves.

My eyes register three more dark figures in the shadows. For fuck’s sake, what is it with the trios tonight? The only trio I want right now is a trio meal from the closest fast-food taco stand. I spread my arms, palms out, and take a step into the light exposing myself from the darkness. The figures don’t move for several minutes, and we just stare at each other. A standoff of wills, it seems. Who will make the first move?

The answer is them.

“Holy shit.” Comes the response from one of the figures. I don’t recognize the voice. I can see him shift in the darkness.My fingers drift slowly back toward the knife I just put away. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Is that all you can say?” A second voice snaps. That voice… it’s familiar, but with all the adrenaline bouncing in my brain I can’t place it.

“No… I have other more pressing things to say. The first one being, ‘marry me.’ The second being, ‘please fucking marry me.’” The shadowy figures move forward, and I can’t help the curious smile that tugs at my lips. A man after my own heart, it seems. “You sure know how to make a mess, darling. That’s going to be a bitch to get out of your hair.” He continues with a hint of humor in his voice.

“I think I might be sick.” A third voice breathes into the darkness, followed by a quiet gag. That voice I know I recognize. I jut my hip out to the side and put a single bloody hand on my hip, waiting for them to come to me. The three men slowly emerge from the shadows and come to stand in the yellow circle of light from the streetlamps with their hands in their pockets.

Tailored suits, shiny shoes, confident stances, and white masks adorned with card suits. I take in the red heart, the black spade, the red diamond, and my grin widens. My voice takes on a low, sultry tone when I open my mouth. “Hello, boys.”

Chapter 9

Declan

I roll my eyes at Silas as he nearly doubles over at the sight of the fresh blood oozing into large crimson puddles under the bodies that this she-devil just divested of their souls. She makes Hayden look sane in comparison to her methods, but I can’t deny that she is a sight before us. Her creamy skin is flecked with blood spatter and her hair disheveled and tangled in knots.

“Well damn,” she quips lightly and disappears her blade back under her tight dress. “I thought these three were my problem patrons of the night, but here you stand.” Her sarcasm knows no bounds it seems.

My lips tighten as I grind my teeth together. “Sorry to disappoint,” I retort with just as much venom.

Hayden takes a hesitant step forward with his arms outstretched and palms out. He looks like he’s approaching a wild animal, and by the way her eyes flash in his direction, that might be a true statement. “Can we keep her?” he practically whispers to us.

“She is not a stray cat, asshole,” Silas mutters and shifts on his feet. My brother has always hated the sight of copiousamounts of blood and violence. “Give her some space. She’s been through a lot. She’s probably ready to collapse after all that.”

“She can hear you,” she calls lightly and folds her arms across her chest. “And I can assure you that I am fine. I’ve had worse. You can save the chivalry act.” Her hand waves us off and she starts to turn just as the door crashes open and one of the bouncers from the casino appears. He looks menacing standing in the doorway, backlit by the white, fluorescent light of the kitchen.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” he snarls at her, and I see his hands twitch like he wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. I don’t blame him. If she were mine, I’d wear her ass out for being in the dark alley alone. His eyes dart from the three bodies on the ground to the three of us standing in the dim light. “For fuck’s sake, Emelia.”

She waves him off and turns back to us. “The three on the ground were no better than the scum on that dumpster over there. They were intent on raping me and breaking my spirit. Jokes on them though, right, Hector?” She smiles brightly up at him.

This girl is a different breed entirely. She’s just a little over five feet tall and took out three grown men like they were nothing more than target dummies. She is all smiles and jokes despite the horror that she has just been through. She is strong-willed and dangerous, and my cock is starting to ache in my slacks. I want her and I know that I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop the image of her on her knees, still covered in blood, taking me deep into her throat.

Her voice pulls me back to reality. “The three still standing are the reason that I was in the alley in the first place lookingfor a place to decompress.” Her smile turns wicked as she looks me up and down. “Mr. Smith here seems to frown upon my selection of the liquor tonight. We had a run in and then I came here. They were just leaving,” Emelia says sweetly as Hector turns his glare to us.

Hector pulls Emelia into a half hug, his eyes never leaving our forms. I can take the hint, buddy. Off-limits. Got it. I tip my head in his direction in acknowledgment. “Go get cleaned up. Em is asking for you,” he says quietly and nearly shoves her back through the doors. “I’ll take care of this mess.” The door closes on her retreating form and just like that, the angel of death is gone.

“What the hell… Who the hell… How the hell…” Hayden is at a loss for words and can’t seem to form any coherent thoughts. I don’t blame him. I’m still reeling too.

Hector smirks knowingly and removes his leather jacket, hanging it on the edge of a nearby pallet along the brick wall. “Time to go, gentlemen. I’ve got a mess to clean up.”

“Let’s make a deal,” I state and step closer to him. “This is a big task for just one man. Let us help and you tell us who she is.”

Hector rolls his eyes and moves to the bundle of black chemical barrels that are nestled beside one of the green dumpsters. He rolls a barrel into the middle of the alley and picks up the first body like it weighs nothing. It goes into the empty barrel headfirst and hits the bottom with a dull thump. “I’d hate for you to ruin your Prada suits,” he sneers and seals the lid on the first barrel with a hard slam of his fist.

“Tom Ford,” Silas mutters from beside the empty barrels. He must have snuck over there while Hector was lifting the first body. “They’re Tom Ford suits,” he explains as Hectorlooks at him curiously. Silas walks an empty barrel over to the second body and turns his face to Hayden expectantly. He is the brains of the operation and will not, under any circumstances, be lifting bloody, dead bodies. His words exactly.

Hayden huffs out a sigh and stalks forward, rolling his sleeves up. He grips the body by the jacket and one pant leg and tosses it deftly into the barrel. Hector nods once but keeps a wary eye on us as they seal the lid and move to the last body.

“She was the bartender,” Silas says quietly after the barrels are covered with a black tarp and bungee cords. “She made us our drinks.” It sounds like he is in shock and having trouble processing the events of the night.

“Pull yourself together, brother, you sound like a rookie,” I snap and punch him in the bicep, earning an eye roll and a glare I’m sure.

“It’s different when it’s an innocent woman,” he admits and drops his head into his hands. Our masks are still firmly in place, but I can imagine the haunted look in his eyes.

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