Page 44 of Gates of Tartarus

The men make muffled sounds of protest, which she cuts off with her hand. “He’s on my payroll and has proven himself to be above bribery. The… benefits… shall we say... of working for me far outweigh the temptations elsewhere. Plus,” she adds as an afterthought, “he knows too much, so he knows if he betrayed me, I’d have to kill him.” She ends the statement with a silvery little laugh, which the guys take as a joke, but I can feel her energy and see Marco’s face, and I’m almost 100% certain that she’s not kidding. I’m beginning to wonder if I should reassess our new friend here.

With impeccable timing, the back door of the bar opens, and a worried little man with round glasses and a puffy face rushes in.

“Ah, Chantalle!” he says tremulously. “I came as soon as you called!”

“Most people do!” she says, dropping a wink that devastates the poor guy. He blushes deeply, and she says softly, “I need you to take wonderful care of my dear friend Kailani, Dr. Gotleb. And I know how tired you’ll be after your work, so I thought you might like to get some…dinner…with Casey after?”

The good doctor’s face, which was flushed before, is now sweating slightly, and I wince back from the sludge of emotion melting off him. Chantalle notes my reaction with careful eyes, her own narrowing at my expression, and shortens her syllables, clipping her tones. “My friend, Doctor? Please see what you can do.”

Hovering over me now like an anxious bird he pokes and prods for a few minutes, all five guys, Marco included, forming an intimidating wall at my back, watching his every move.

“Multiple small abrasions,” he mumbles to himself. “Some more serious bruising, but nothing too bad. Hmmm… does that hurt?” he asks, now focused and professional, and I nod. “But you can move it? Okay. Mild strain of the ankle. It’s not bad. Just rest and ice for a few days. Wrap it if needed, but youshouldbe okay without itifyou don’t overuse it. But this,” he says, frowning and poking at my shoulder, “this is dislocated. Since I assume the hospital is off-limits, for whatever reason, we can try to pop it back in now. How long has it been like this?”

“‘Bout half an hour, give or take,” Marco says shortly, and I raise my eyebrows, surprised.

“Longest fucking half hour of my life,” I say, and he grins at me, a sparkle of amusement crackling between us. The little bit of humor cuts through the gloom in the room, sharp, like lemon, and helps to clear my thoughts, but a wave of green chaos follows it and swallows me in confusing, swirled emotion.

“Okay,” I say, faux cheerfully, trying to focus. “Let’s do it.”

“This is going to hurt a bit, Ms. Reed,” he says, a note of caution in his voice. “I’d recommend having someone hold on to you a bit. Just pick someone who can maybe sit behind you and help you stay steady as I get this back into place.”

My throat tightens, strangled by the hurricane of emotion in the air, the pain in my shoulder making it difficult to keep my shields up. It’s hard to think as four men stare very hard at me, waiting for my answer. Making up my mind quickly, I nod toward Chantalle, voice questioning. “Can you do it?” I ask her hesitantly, and she nods, surprised, before understanding dawns on her face as she looks around at the men.

“Too much testosterone?” she asks wryly, and I force a small smile. “Right,” she says quietly in answer, almost under her breath. “Let’s change the energy of the room a little for you, shall we? Even I’m feeling it.” Settling in behind me, she almost whispers in my ear, “Not trying to make you uncomfortable, okay? Just trying to adjust their focus a little.” I nod, unsure of what she means, and she wraps around me from behind, holding me in place as the doctor asked, but raising her voice so the men can hear now.

“Ohmy, Kai,” she trills, tone effusive and shivery. “You must work out an awful lot. Oooo, and your skin’s so soft! I just want to lick it!” she purrs, dropping her chin over my uninjured shoulder, helping to lock me firmly in place, blinking up at me with her anime eyes. The chaos of emotion in the room changes so rapidly to a single, focused, andveryclear emotion that I almost throw up. Six sets of burning eyes are now focused incredibly intently on Chantalle and me, and the humor of the situation finally rights me. “Men,” Chantalle whispers in my ear, which looks, I’m sure, to the men, like she’s nuzzling it, “are so easy. OOOoooo,” she hums louder now so they can hear, “you’re so brave, Kai! But so tense! After this I can give you a quick massage if you’d like. Work out all the kinks in your muscles! I have some oils in the back for that.” If there were any oxygen in the room it is gone now with the collective intake of breath from across the bar.

At the same time, the doctor has carefully moved my arm into position and, offering me an apologetic smile,whipsmy arm up and into place. I don’t move, my face doesn’t even flicker, but I’m sure I blanche slightly from the sudden pain, my stomach dropping out. Chantalle holds me a moment longer, letting me settle, before she presses a small kiss to my cheek, saying, quite seriously now, “Good job, Kai. That must have hurt like a bitch,” before releasing me.

The doctor fashions a sling for me and warns me against using my arm before hustling away to the back again to wash up. Chantalle levels an inquiring stare at me.

“Okay. What’s his deal?”

I pause but feel I have to answer. She’s gone to bat for me a couple of times now for no reason, so I offer a one-shouldered shrug and say, “Nothing specific, just… his energy when he thinks about that girl… it’s really... edging on violent? Or dark? Hard to say when I’m feeling like this.”

She nods as though I’m confirming something for her. “We had trouble with him once in the past, but he came to heel pretty quickly and hasn’t overstepped again. Would you be worried about it?”

I think carefully, then answer. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d be worried. He’s barely restraining that shit, but it didn’t really come on super hard until you said that one girl’s name. Then he was… not good.”

Frowning, she turns to Marco, jerking her head slightly to the side even as she responds to me. “Casey’s one of our newer girls, and on the young side. She’s nineteen but looks a lot younger, so she’s been very, very popular with certain clientele.”

I wrinkle my face in distaste, but Chantalle seems to take care of her crew, so say nothing else. Marco offers me a brief wave before following the doctor to the back, and Chantalle sighs. “Well, we’ll see what happens. We may be in the market for a new house doc after tonight. Now, not that I don’t love seeing you all, especially you, Kai, but this many of you in here at once is going to bring some unwanted attention for both of us. I think it’s time you head out. We’ve kept the bar closed while you were here, said we had a water leak we were fixing, but it’s going to be busy soon, and you don’t want to be here for that. I’ll take you out the back way and have the guys meet you around the corner to give you your cars. Can one of you take her bike?” Walker nods, and Chantalle continues. “Okay. Let’s get you out of here. And Kailani, I’ll keep my ear to the ground, see if I can pass along any info to you.”

I look at her cautiously. “For what?” I ask carefully. “You deal in favors, no pun intended. What do you want in return?”

“So untrusting!” she replies jokingly. “I just want to help you. And if you want to direct some clientele my way, I wouldn’t say no. Especially to any of them!” she adds, smiling sultrily at the team. Seeing my face, she smiles softly, not her practiced smile, but a real one, and says, almost hesitantly, “Kai. Maybe I just need a friend. I don’t have many in this business... people tend to judge. So no fee for this except maybe a coffee sometime, if you’re up for it.”

Something obviously got fucked up in my head when I went down with the bike, because I think… I think I maywantto be friends with her. Which is fucking weird. But, I mean, I’malwaysup for coffee, and her emotions are very clean, like a windowpane, so I’m about to answer, when a hidden door behind the bar bursts open, shaking the liquor and sending a shivery glass sound through the bar. A very angry, very punk, very distracted woman pushes through, not ever looking up from the small computer she’s holding.

“Who the fuck approved this shit?” she snaps, and Chantalle groans quietly under her breath.

“Aw, someone spit in your coffee this morning, Flower?” It takes a moment for me to realize the sarcastic, biting words emerged from Terry’s mouth. The big man is usually so silent, I almost forgot he can speak.

The girl doesn’t even look up to acknowledge him, just raises a single finger in his general direction, still staring down at her laptop. She’s a visual contradiction, whoever she is. Dark, thick hair hangs in a twisting curtain on half her head. The other half is shaved, and I can see an ear pierced with at least six rings. She’s fairly heavily tattooed on her arms and is wearing a loose, black, micro crop-top with a band’s name – Beauty in Lies – scrawled across the front in slash-like, white writing. Her pants are tight, low-slung, and black, withamazingboots that I’d kill for, and she has a septum piercing. Her eyes are ringed in heavy, black eyeliner and framed with even darker lashes. But behind everything, her bones are sharp and delicate, ears slightly pointed at the tops, full, bee-stung lips, thin wrists. She looks like a very angry, very dangerous little fairy.

“ThisTerrance’sfault, I’m assuming, Chanty?” she asks pointedly, then, not hearing an answer, finally looks up. “Awwww, shiiiiit.” She exhales sharply, looking around the room, taking in the bloody towels, the drawn guns, the tense men, then narrows her fox-like eyes and shakes her head. “Fuckingagain? God damnit, Chanty.”

“Did you not think to check the cameras before opening that fucking door?” Terry snaps, then turns his back on the dangerous pixie woman and says, “Tally, do we really need her here?” with obvious disdain, causing Chantalle to swear quietly under her breath.

---