Wicked Deal (Shadow Guild: The Rebel 2)

The bartender’s twin approached from the other side of the bar, returning from her errands. Her sharp eyes narrowed on us, and she strode over, a scowl cutting deep across her face.

I withdrew my power from the air, calling it back to me. Carrow jerked her hand back, but it was too late.

“You are not welcome here,” the angry twin said.

The bartender gasped and glared at us. She raised her hands and gestured, and a band of men stepped from the shadows. No surprise. I’d spotted them when we’d walked in. Perhaps they were Ivan’s men, set to guard his old favorite hangout in his absence.

Fine. I wanted Ivan to know we were coming for him.

After all, he was coming for me.

Carrow

I turned from the bartenders, spotting the huge men drifting

away from the walls. The guards I’d noticed earlier.

“Are you ready to use that dress?” the Devil asked.

I nodded, shaking out my right arm and hoping that the punching charm worked.

The Devil murmured against my ear, “We need to get to the exit, and we can’t transport out of here because of a protective charm.”

“I got it.”

Tension prickled across my skin.

The men charged—at least eight of them, maybe more.

The Devil was faster. His movements were a blur, his vampire speed incredible. Within seconds, he’d knocked together the heads of two of the guards. They collapsed like redwoods, unconscious.

I left him to it, racing for the door. I’d fight if I had to, but I wasn’t going to run straight at the guys like he did. Let him take the worst of the hits.

My enchanted stilettos gave me Fae agility with the comfort of trainers. I darted around tables with speed and grace. I was nearly halfway to the door when a tall, dark-haired man intercepted me. A small, black table stood between us. I grabbed it and swung it at him, and the legs broke against his chest.

He growled and reached for me. I shoved the wreckage of the table at him and dodged behind him. When I kicked him in the knee, he went down hard. Sprinting around him, I punched him in the face. The blow landed with a force that shocked me. He grunted, spit and teeth flying.

“Holy crap.” I spun around, adrenaline keeping me moving. Another guard hurtled toward me. I tried to avoid him, but he was fast. He grabbed me, yanked me against his chest, and wrapped a beefy arm around me.

Across the room, I saw the Devil dispatch four men, but more were coming at him.

I was on my own.

I flicked my wrist, converting my bangle into the dagger like the Fae woman had shown me. The hilt fit easily in my hand. I stabbed over my shoulder, hoping to hit something fleshy.

The knife hit its mark. The guard roared and shoved me forward. I stumbled but kept my grip on my blade, then righted myself and spun around.

“You want to play it that way, do you?” He withdrew a knife from inside his suit coat. It was easily twice as long and scary as mine.

Crap.

He darted toward me, swiping out with speed and precision. The steel sliced my arm, and pain flared. I yelped and leapt back, taking stock of my surroundings. There was another table, but it was too far away.

The man advanced, bloodlust in his eyes.

I’d never been any good at throwing knives, but I was desperate. I chucked mine at him, praying.

Somehow—by magic or luck or unknown skill—the blade pierced his shoulder. He roared, momentarily stunned. I lunged forward and punched him hard in the face, grateful for my magical Fae clothing.