Page 144 of Lady Killer

Nothing separated us now.

Somewhere in the background, a phone started ringing.

Nixon tightened his hold on my hair as I thrust my hips up to meet him.

He lowered himself onto me, coating his already wet cock in my juices.

His hand went to my hip and . . .

“Ah!” A pained cry escaped me as his knee collided with mine.

Nixon pulled back from me, his eyes suddenly round with worry.

The phone kept ringing.

“Fuck, Luz . . .”

Chapter forty

Alister

Agob of spit hit my cheek.

It was a mistake on the part of our prisoner. But I could see how one could make it.

It was easy to lose sight of me in the spectacle that was the Blackwells.

Locke was domineering and vain, utterly unable to resist a situation that might highlight his superiority.

Lucian was the head of the family, his authority palpable in everybreath he took.

Nixon was just as likely to charm your pants off as he was to set you on fire.

And Everest was . . . Everest.

I was known for being quiet and analytical. The thinker of the group. So, yes, I could see how one could come to such a conclusion.

It was still a foolish mistake.

“Pace yourself, Alister.” Lucian stood behind me, at the other end of the room. Spine straight, hands thrust in pockets. Not an ounce of emotion could be read on him as we observed Michael Gerald Schultz, who was currently hanging from chains in front of us. “Locke won’t be here until this evening. You know he’ll need the subject in good enough condition that he can get answers out of him.”

Luz had passed out too quickly for us to ask what happened, but given that we found the bastard passed out, choking her to death while wearing one of those fucking masks, he was far from innocent.

The question was whether he was the killer or simply another sheep.

“I understand,” I said, staring down at the prisoner.

“Nixon’s not picking up,” Lucian added.

He was trying to distract me, worried I would kill the man before Locke managed to get what we needed from him.

It wouldn’t work.

In spite of all his bullshit, Nixon would keep Luz safe. If not for me, then for himself.

Three of the four walls in the space were covered with the tools of our trade. Knives, guns, blowtorches, everything one man could need to harm another. Should these options fail to suffice, there was another entire chamber full of more . . . obscure devices of torture, not to mention the hall with some ancient large-scale pieces passed down through the family.

Slowly, I walked the length of the wall before selecting my tool of choice.

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