Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian 6)

“We all did what was needed in the moment.” This was my first opportunity to really speak to Bryce, and I was grateful for the opportunity. Paul obviously revered him, but for all I knew he could be a bona fide asshole in other areas.

“There were so many things I should’ve done differently that day,” he said, shaking his head. “But that guard. He should never have been carrying a gun.”

“No shit!” I made a disgusted face. “Probably a wannabe cop who spent too much time watching action movies.” Then I sobered. “You heard what I told Mzatal about my encounter with Farouche?”

Bryce’s expression tightened. “Yes. And that he . . . affected you.” He blew out his breath. “Lord Mzatal explained to Paul and me how Mr. Farouche’s influence works. If I hadn’t lived it, no way would I believe it.”

I proceeded to give him the full story, including the mandate to call Farouche when he and Paul returned. I watched him as I spoke, noted a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and a tremor in the hand that held his fork. When I finished, I busied myself with eating in order to give him time to compose himself. Even though Mzatal had fixed him up, I figured it would take some time for Bryce to shed the residual effects of being influenced for so long.

After about a minute Bryce set his fork down. “The one with the MAC-10 is Mr. Farouche’s personal bodyguard, Angus McDunn. He’s been with Farouche for over twenty years. Ruthless. The other two were Charles Clancy and Sonny Hernandez. Mr. Farouche made a personal appearance in order to get you under his influence. He wouldn’t trouble himself otherwise.” Bryce exhaled. “He’ll want me back dead or alive. He’ll want Paul back alive.”

“We won’t let that happen” I said firmly.

“It can’t happen to Paul. He deserves better.”

I smiled. “I like him. Crap, this sounds insulting, but it’s not meant to be at all: He’s adorable.”

Bryce laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

I grinned. “I’m sure he wouldn’t take it well.” I pushed back from the table. “Is there anything you need or want that will help you settle in? Anything Paul needs?”

Bryce exhaled, shook his head. “I honestly don’t know yet. I feel like I’m in a different world. Naked in a different world.”

My brow furrowed as I tried to figure that one out. “Naked?”

Bryce gave a weak laugh. “Figuratively speaking. I haven’t been without my weapons in over a decade.”

I blinked. “Oh! Hang on.” I quickly retrieved the box containing his cleaned gear and clothing from where I’d stashed it, returned to the kitchen, and placed it on the table. “There’s .40 ammo in the cabinet over the dryer,” I said as I unloaded his stuff from the box. “I cleaned the gun and got the blood off the rest, though I tossed your shirt since it was pretty trashed. Hope you weren’t too attached to it.”

Utterly sh

ocked, Bryce looked from the plethora of lethality on the table to me and then back at his gear. “You’re serious?”

“If you were a threat to us, Mzatal would know about it,” I replied. “I want you as an ally, and you’re more useful as such if you have your stuff.”

“I understand,” he said, face reflecting relief. “Thanks.” He checked his guns and knives, then slipped various holsters and sheaths on and tucked his weapons away with smooth and practiced efficiency.

“Feel better?” I asked.

He made adjustments, straightened. “Do I ever.” He smiled, shoulders and back relaxing as tension slipped away. “Any house rules I should know about?”

“Don’t pee on the toilet seat.”

He snorted. “Anything else?”

I shrugged. “Common sense. Um, you and Paul probably shouldn’t leave the property or go to near the property edge for that matter.” I abruptly realized how that sounded and hurried to clarify. “I mean, you’re not prisoners or anything, but—”

Bryce salvaged my faux pas. “I get it. Even if Mr. Farouche knows we’re here, it’s better if we’re not seen.”

“Exactly,” I said, relieved that he understood. “The fed boys have a game console in the living room that you’re welcome to use.”

“Excellent!” A grin split his face. “Paul set me up with one in our unit at Farouche’s plantation. Helped keep me from going stir crazy while he did his computer stuff.”

“You’ll probably have some time on your hands here,” I said with a slight grimace. “Sorry.”

“No worries, Ms. Gillian. I have a master’s degree in killing time.”

“You stayed with Paul at the plantation? I gather he gets pretty deeply involved in what he does.”