Without limits ssion and.., p.116
Without Limits: A BWWM Collection of Passion and Desire, page 116
“Did you, now? Who did you hear that from?”
I winked at her. “Never reveal your sources. So tell me: what kind of fish can I land here?”
She eyed me. “You sure this is the kind of thing you wanna get into? The men out here aren’t just fish. They’re sharks.”
“I may not look it, but I can handle myself. Where’s a good place to start?” I fished a fifty dollar bill out of my wallet and planted it on the bar.
She shook her head slightly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. A bunch of these chumps are gonna start buying you drinks left and right, but if you’re convinced you want to go fishing, start by saying yes to Dustin. He owns most of the pool halls in this town. He’s loaded, but he’s not exactly a nice man behind closed doors.”
I slid her the bill. “Thanks, babe.”
She snorted as she pocketed the money. “You won’t be saying that in about a week. Look alive. Here he comes.”
A brown-haired man sidled on up to the bar on my left with an empty beer bottle. The bartender gave him a new one without asking for payment. Bingo.
He was average height with a solid build and a square chin. By the look of things, he was mid-forties, but with that kind of Hot Dad thing going on: thick chestnut hair with a little grey at his temples, sparkling blue eyes, a five o’clock shadow, and straight, white teeth. He wore a crisp white dress shirt, Levis, boots, and a navy blazer. Houston apparently had its own version of Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs. I approved.
“Now what on earth did I do to deserve to meet you?” he said, smiling wide.
“I don’t know,” I said, swirling the mimosa around. “Maybe saved some orphans from a burning building?”
He laughed softly. “I’m all sorts of magnanimous, huh? What’s your name, gorgeous?”
“Jessica.” I extended a hand and he shook it.
“Dustin. What brings you into town?”
“Oh, just here to have fun. I’m on vacation.”
“Nice. Where from?”
“Atlanta.”
He whistled. “You came a long way for fun.”
“I hear it’s worth it.”
He nodded. “That it is.”
Articulate, polite, clean, and well-dressed in a dive bar? I was definitely in the right ballpark. The downside to burying my spiritual energy was that I couldn’t use it to detect if he was a demon or not. I’d have to try another method I’d learned from Andrew’s journal.
“Well, I’m not terribly overburdened with things to do tonight,” Dustin continued. “Maybe I can help you find your fun.”
“Generous offer. Aren’t you the Good Samaritan?”
He winked. “The best.”
“Well, the Bible does say ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself,’” I said, swirling a finger around the rim of the flute. It was nearly imperceptible, but I saw him wince. Demons hated Scripture. It bothered them on their most basic level. On the surface, they were human just like us, but their souls were ragged and foul beneath their skin, and the Word was like driving a stake into their soft little underbellies. Not enough to kill a demon, but it made them uncomfortable. It was basically like a demon Litmus test and he tested positive. The only question was what he ranked in their organization.
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” I continued. “Why don’t you start with how you found this place?”
“Friend of mine runs it, actually,” he supplied. “He’s the enterprising type, which we have in common. I own a few pool halls in town. It’s good money and it’s not as boring as your average nine-to-five job.”
“I see. Is your friend here? I’d like to leave some customer feedback.”
“Well, you can always just tell me and I’ll pass it along.”
Aha. Maurice didn’t care for solicitation. I would need to worm my way into his good graces if I wanted a shot at him. “Fair enough. You guys have a happy hour?”
“Every night from ten to two.”
“Excellent. I’ve got another errand to run. Why don’t I meet you back here around eleven and we can get to know each other a little better?”
His smile widened, and his aquamarine eyes darkened with the promise of something that would have made me nervous if I were just a normal girl. “Sounds good, Jessica. I’ll be waiting with bated breath.”
He caught my wrist and lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it without breaking eye contact. A lesser girl would have melted. Good tactic. Only problem was that I knew exactly what he had planned for me, which was why I decided to give myself an exit strategy so I could regroup.
I winked at him and shimmied out of the bar. Once I was back in the truck, I let out a long breath and checked to make sure no one had followed me out. The trick was to keep them from connecting the dots. I’d been wearing sunglasses when I got out of Myra’s truck and so the demons watching her place probably wouldn’t place me based on how I looked now. They’d assume I was just a visitor and wouldn’t need to follow me around unless I presented a threat. However, if I was going to keep snooping around at this place, I’d have to take a cab, but that put me in further danger if I needed to make a quick escape. I’d gambled coming here in the truck tonight, but I hadn’t turned any heads yet, so chances were low that they’d start trailing me too. I’d have to chat with Myra about getting a hotel room. The longer I stayed near her, the more suspicious they would get, and they could easily infiltrate the house to find out who I was.
After I got back on the road, I texted Myra to find out if she had the contact info of the angels in the area, and she called me instead of texting back. “How did your Honey Pot mission go?”
“I made the initial contact,” I said, checking my mirrors to be sure no one from the bar was following me as I drove. “We’ll see how it pans out after dark. Do you know where the local angels hang out?”
“Look, I already told you I don’t want them involved. They have agendas. Rules. Sure, they claim they want to keep us safe, but they have to protect their own interests, and so do I.”
I gritted my teeth. “Myra, that place is sealed up tight. It’s a fortress. We can’t just brute force it all. If we declare war, they’ll bring a hammer down hard on us and you don’t want to be there for that, trust me. We might need help on this one.”
“Really? If they’re so helpful, why are there demons watching my place?”
“Because it’s not exactly easy to catch them in the act.”
“Exactly. I’d rather not bother in the first place.”
“And if everything goes south? We won’t have anyone to protect your family if we both die and they have no idea what happened or why. You know better. We have to be smart about this if we want to stay alive.”
“No angels. We’re doing this ourselves.”
“Dammit, Myra, what is your problem with them?”
“They let that maniac carve me up!”
I fell silent.
“They said they would protect me, protect us, and yet Maurice just merrily strolled his ass into my home and jammed a knife into my chest. He could have killed me. He could have killed Charlie and Chris, and they wouldn’t have prevented it. The angels can’t be relied on. I’d rather let hell rain down on me before I go to them for help.”
It took me a moment or two before I could respond. Her voice had cracked ever so slightly when she mentioned her husband and son. She may have seemed carved out of stone, but she was still human. “Myra, I understand how you feel. The angels have let me down before, in ways I can’t even describe. I don’t agree with you, but for the sake of our partnership, I’ll let it be for now. I’m going to make another stop and then I’ll be there so we can get to work. Just consider what I’ve said, alright?”
“Fine.” She hung up. Lovely woman. Maybe I’d be that agreeable if I ever saw the age of forty.
I ran my next errand. For the record, people look at you funny when you go to Home Depot in a tiny black dress and stilettos. Who knew?
The Kiln looked completely different at night. Some places seemed to soak up the darkness and take on its properties after the sun went down. This was one of them. Even without my usual energy, I could feel something slimy emanating from the building and oozing out into the parking lot. It also didn’t help that there was a couple shagging in a convertible two spaces down from where I parked. Yep. It was going to be that kind of night.
As soon as I pushed the doors open, classic hard rock smashed into me. Rolling Stones’ “Welcome to the Jungle.” I shot a cross look at the ceiling for a second. The Almighty had a rotten sense of humor sometimes.
The booths overflowed with people, demons and humans alike, mixed together like cocktails. The sharp scent of spilled alcohol and cigarette smoke assaulted my senses as I walked towards my stool at the bar, where Dustin was fondling a Cuban cigar. His head turned and he caught my gaze, smiling slowly as I approached, as if he’d smelled me the second I walked in. He probably had. Brr.
I was wearing the same stilettos, but this time I’d switched the black dress out for a blood-orange one instead. It popped well with my dark complexion and made me easy to spot, which was what I wanted tonight. I also had a black bolero jacket with a retractable knife hidden in an inner pocket in case things went sideways.
“Evening,” Dustin drawled as I curled myself onto the stool. “Glad you could make it. This place really is better at night.”
“I like it,” I said, winking at the bartender. “Such a different vibe after dark.”
The bartender set down a napkin. “What can I get ya?”
“White Russian.”
“On me,” Dustin said, reaching for his wallet, but I held out a hand.
“I appreciate the thought, but some guys think buying the drink is buying the girl. I can handle myself.”
Dustin’s eyebrows rose. “Catty, aren’t we? I thought we were friends, Jessica.”
“We’re friendly,” I said. “Let’s just see how the night goes.”
He chuckled and tucked the cigar in one corner of his mouth. “Oh, baby, we’re gonna get along just fine. Follow me.”
I paid for my drink and left a generous tip before following Dustin to a booth closer to the back of the bar, precisely where I wanted to be. If Maurice was here, odds were he’d pass by at some point. Plus, it gave me an excuse to check out the bar’s layout.
I put the current headcount at twenty-eight: ten humans, eighteen demons, based on snatches of conversation and body language. While Dustin and I made small talk, I kept an eye on who went in and out of the bathrooms, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs.
As for my would-be suitor, he kept his hands to himself for the first half hour, and then when I freshened up my White Russian, he inched closer until he was on my side of the booth. My heart started to give me a bit of pitty-pat action. I hadn’t been near a virile male specimen in a while, and getting nervous could give me away, so I went to my backup plan: asking him about himself. Demons were terribly self-involved. He spent the next half hour bragging to me about how many pool halls he owned and how much real estate cost in Texas and pretty soon my blood pressure was nice and mellow.
At last, an opportunity presented itself in the form of a sloppy-drunk burly demon who stumbled towards the hallway and went into the women’s restroom since he was too blitzed to even read the sign right. Dustin was so preoccupied with himself that he didn’t see it. Perfect.
I excused myself and went in after the intoxicated demon, locking the door behind me. The bathroom had five stalls and they were all empty, since the Mr. Stinking Drunk was standing in front of the sink and peeing into it, thinking it was the men’s stall. What a hero.
Mr. Drunk was about six foot one and a solid two-seventy. He had a stained white t-shirt and jean vest over wrinkled Levis and brown boots, with sandy flyaway hair that reminded me of Chris Farley. I didn’t see signs of a weapon on him, but he probably had a blade on him somewhere. With any luck, I’d never find out.
I took a deep breath and told myself to remember every annoying damsel character I’d ever seen in a bad movie and channeled them all at once.
I walked around the corner and let out a shrill gasp. Mr. Drunk fumbled with his zipper and turned around, blinking unfocused brown eyes at me.
“W-What are you doing in the ladies’ room?” I asked.
“What?” he demanded, and then glanced at the stalls on either side of him. “Oh. Damn. No wonder the flush wouldn’t work. My bad.”
His beady eyes dragged down my bare legs next. Yep. Right on schedule. He licked his lips. “Nice dress.”
“T-Thanks. Look, I can see you’re occupied, so I’m just gonna—” I turned to head for the door, and in less than a second, he was standing in front of it. Apparently, he wasn’t too drunk to show off his demonic side.
“Maybe you can look after me for a little bit before you go,” he growled.
I backed away. “I-I don’t want any trouble. Please.”
“No trouble, baby,” he said, stepping towards me. “I’ll be quick, don’t worry.”
I screamed as he grabbed my arm and shoved me against the far wall. Just as he tried to yank the bolero jacket off my shoulders, the bathroom door flew off the lock. Dustin appeared behind him in a flash.
Dustin grabbed a handful of the drunk’s hair and jerked his head back hard, holding a Bowie knife beneath the demon’s double chins. “Marcone, you dumb, fat assbucket. This is definitely not your night.”
Marcone wheezed. “W-What are you doing? She’s just some stinkin’ whore.”
Dustin dug the tip of the knife into a pocket of fat above his collarbone and a trickle of blood slid out. “She’s not a hooker, Marc. She’s with me, and you just attacked her.”
“N-No, I didn’t, man! She came onto me!”
Dustin aimed a disturbingly calm look at me. “Jess, is that true?”
“No. The creep grabbed me after he took a piss in the sink.”
Dustin clucked his tongue. “Now that just ain’t gonna do, Marky-Mark.”
“You can’t kill me! Not on neutral ground, man!”
“It’s neutral ground when I say it’s neutral ground,” Dustin hissed. “That doesn’t count for sloppy drunks who come in here and don’t know the rules. Apparently, someone needs to teach you a lesson.”
His arm tensed to slit the fat demon’s throat.
“Wait!” I cried.
Dustin turned his gaze on me slowly. I licked my lips.
“Let me do it.”
Dustin went absolutely still. “Pardon me?”
I filled my voice with cold fury. It wasn’t hard. “He thinks women are toys. Maybe it’s time he learns otherwise.”
The drunk squirmed, trying to wriggle free, but the older demon held him still and kept staring at me as if he’d seen me for the first time. “You sure about that? Go down this road and there ain’t no turnin’ back, baby.”
Slowly, I nodded. “Alright.”
Dustin clapped one hand over the fat demon’s mouth and yanked his head to one side, exposing the rest of his neck. “Take my hand.”
I settled my fingers over his, feeling the power and strength behind them. “Draw a straight line across his throat. Press forward hard. Don’t let go until he stops moving.”
The fat demon squealed against Dustin’s hand. I felt him shaking with fear and blind panic. I could stop this whole thing right now. Walk right out. Never look back. Keep my hands clean for once.
Instead, I stared straight into Dustin’s empty eyes and slit the fat demon’s throat.
In movies, the blood always slid straight down in an artful, perfect line. In real life, the blood squirts in every direction. There are hundreds of places for it to come gushing out. His neck became a fountain in seconds and his muffled screams turned into gurgles that petered out in only seconds. It didn’t take him long to die.
Dustin let the corpse hit the tile floor, still staring straight into my eyes, his knife, hand, arm, and shoulders as wet and sticky with blood as my own. Then he swept me up in his arms and kissed me, shoving me into the wall.
It was frantic, heated, and terrifying. I hadn’t kissed anyone in months, not since Michael. Kissing my husband had spoiled me. He knew every inch of me, and how I liked to be kissed, whether it was gentle or fierce.
Dustin’s rough facial hair scratched at my cheeks as he devoured my lips. I could taste the beer, the cigar, and worst of all, Marcone’s filthy, salty blood. The urge to shove him away was immense, but I had to sell it or this whole act would have been for nothing. I let him kiss me for a while, until I felt the press of his arousal between my legs.
I broke from his mouth and reached for that sweet, doe-eyed damsel voice again. “Not here. Not like this. I want you, but I want it to be perfect. At the right time, you know?”
Dustin licked his lips, panting hard, and I waited to see if I had appealed to his ego. He didn’t know it, but I could see him working it out in his head, if he wanted to force me to obey him or if he would let me go. I couldn’t help holding my breath. Now or never. Come on, demon. Fall for it.
Finally, he nodded. “Yeah. You’re right, baby. Not tonight. Not every girl has the balls to kill a man. I can certainly wait for a girl like you. Got that darkness in you. I like it. Don’t see that a lot these days.”
Some part of my soul withered at his words, but I didn’t let it show on my face.
Dustin grinned and kissed me once more. “Welcome to the jungle.”
Chapter Four
Unfortunately, I did dream that night.
The first part was hazy and hard to understand. Lots of yelling and fighting. I was in the middle of a brawl and icy rain slapped down on me from every angle. Flashes of light. Pain. Confusion. I just wanted to get free, but hands grabbed me in the darkness and threw me onto the soaked concrete. I gasped desperately as the rainwater and the blood in my mouth mixed and choked me. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t see. Could only feel booted feet kicking me in the ribs and stomach over and over again until I blacked out.
