Page 62 of Devil's Game

That was the wrong answer.

My lip curled into a snarl as recognition sparked. I’d seen him before, his face muddled through the tear-hazed memory, but Iremembered him now. I stalked toward him, stooping to collect the bat from where he’d dropped it and holstering my gun. “You know . . . I have a thing for bats—pretty fitting, right? That’s right, I remember you. You were the one holding the tire iron as you beat Ryan to a bloody pulp.”

I took his silence as an answer as he looked to the ground, appearing to feel some remorse, now that I was his judge, jury, and executioner.

“So, were you the one that killed him, and just had your friends make the delivery?”

“N-no. I di-didn’t know.”

“You should ask those friends whatIcan do with a bat—oh wait, I guess they’re not alive to tell the story now, are they?”

He shuddered, the confusion washing away as he looked between us with desperation.

“You were the one who asked Richards where we were, right?” I hoisted the bat over my shoulder, giving him a pointed look.

His lips opened and closed as he searched for the words before he settled on nodding.

“Well, then, aren’t you glad you found us? Or, I guess, we found you.” I giggled and swung. The crunch of bone echoed off the cement walls, his scream punctuating the sound perfectly as he fell to his knees. The impact drew another pained shout from his lips as he tried and failed to keep his weight off the one I’d just hit.

“I know you were so excited to see exactly what I did to your friends with one of these.” I swung the bat in a circle, letting the tip breeze mere inches past his nose. He shuddered, a sob racking his chest as he closed his eyes, his lips forming silent words, seemingly praying to a higher power who wouldn’t answer. Nope, his soul already belonged to the devil. “But my love didn’t get to have any fun the last time, and he loves playing with his knives.”

“You’re so good to me, baby.” Spade sighed wistfully, his gun still aimed at the henchman as he strode to my side and placed a kiss on my cheek. “How am I ever going to repay you?”

“I can think of a few ways.” I grinned mischievously, sparing a second to rove my gaze over his black leather jack and white T-shirt that I already knew he wanted splattered in blood by the end of tonight.

Spade leaned in, about to close his lips over mine, but a flash of movement pulled him short. The asshole was lunging toward the garbage cans, hobbling desperately, despite his injured knee.

I let him grasp the lid, let him have just a taste of freedom before I closed the distance with one long stride, my bat already raised above my head. I pulled some of my strength back at the last second as I brought it down, the metal smashing against his cheek with a sickening crunch that sent a spray of blood over my face and chest.

The man faltered, his eyes closing as he tumbled to the ground, barely regaining enough consciousness at the last second to throw his hands out, letting them take the brunt of the impact instead.

“Sorry, I just had to get one more hit in.” I took a step back, giving Spade a chagrined look over my shoulder.

“Don’t apologize, sugar.” Spade chuckled, his lips trailing up my throat, each word sending a teasing caress of warm breath over my heated skin. “You know I love seeing you at work.”

He reluctantly pulled away as the man sputtered, blood dripping from his lips.

“My turn.” Spade holstered his gun as I tugged mine free and let the bat clatter to the ground. I was almost sure the guy wasn’t going to try anything again, but I didn’t want to risk being caught off guard. “Plus, we can take our time. I told the others that we have it under control, so they’re keeping watch at the front of the store.”

Dread froze the henchman in place, his arms shaking as he struggled to keep himself upright.

Spade reached into his pocket and flicked out a switchblade, the silver glinting in the light. “Which means you’re stuck with us.”

“Please,” he begged, his plea hitching into a scream as Spade gripped his brown hair and snapped his head back to expose his neck.

“I could make this short,” Spade whispered, dragging the flat of his knife over his throat where the man’s carotid artery lay just beneath. “I could slice right here, and it would be over.”

The man shook on his bad knee, his eyes pressing closed as his throat trembled with the effort it took not to swallow.

I was transfixed by Spade, by the sheer terror he was able to evoke.

“But where would the fun be in that?” Spade shifted his knife higher, slicing a thin line across the henchman’s cheek.

He gasped, his eyes wild, as though he had just narrowly escaped death, despite the blood trickling down his neck.

“Where should I cut him next, sugar?” Spade grinned, his eyes electric as he glanced at me over his shoulder. “How about a finger?”

“N-no,” the man stammered, earning himself a stab in his arm.

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