Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood 8)

He felt something blunt push at his left arm, like the slayer was checking with his boot to see if they were in toe tag territory. And then on cue, Qhuinn let out a low, pathetic moan from around the far side of the shed.

Like his liver was leaking into his colon.

The boots moved down John's body as the bastard wandered forward to investigate and John cracked an eye. The slayer was pulling a Hollywood, his gun held straight out in a double-palm grip, the muzzle swinging from side to side with more affect than effect. Still, though he looked all Crockettand-Tubbs ridiculous with that theatrical bust-a-move, bullets were bullets and it would take only a quick shift in direction and John was at point-blank range.

Good thing he didn't give a shit. As the fucker wedding- marched it toward Qhuinn's moans, an image of Xhex's face sprang John up off the ground in a single lithe move. He landed on top of the lesser's thick back, latching on with his free arm and both of his legs as he put his gun to that pale temple.

The slayer froze for a split second, and John whistled between his teeth, the signal for Qhuinn and Blay to come up from behind.

"Time to drop the gun, asshole," Qhuinn said as he reappeared. Then, without giving the bastard time to comply, he reached out, locked his hands on the slayer's forearm, and made like he was snapping a stick.

The crack of bones was louder than John's whistle had been and the result was a limp wrist and a Glock no longer under the enemy's control.

As the lesser bucked in pain, sirens from far off sounded out. . . and closed in.

John dragged the bastard back to the double doors of the shed, and after Blay opened the way in, he pulled his prey out of sight.

With overexaggerated words, he mouthed to Qhuinn, Go get your Hummer.

"If those cops are coming for us, we've got to blow. "

Not leaving. Get the Hummer.

Qhuinn took out his keys and tossed them to Blay. "You go. And lock us in, feel me?"

Blay didn't waste a second, backing out and closing the door. There was the subtle sound of metal clinking as he reset the chain and then a click as that Master Lock was popped into place.

The lesser was starting to struggle with greater strength, but this was not a bad thing--consciousness was what they were going for.

John flipped the fucker onto his stomach and pulled back on that neck until the thing's spine pretzeled.

Qhuinn knew exactly what to do. Kneeling down, he put his face right into the slayer's. "We know you hold a female prisoner. Where is she?"

As the sirens intensified, the slayer managed only a series of grunts, so John relented a little and allowed some air down in those lungs.

Qhuinn drew back his palm and slapped the lesser. "I asked you a question, bitch. Where is she?"

John eased up a little further, but not so much as to offer an escape route. With the added leeway, the lesser shuddered in fear, proving that whereas the motherfucker had been all business with his showy shooting, here during crunch time, he was nothing but a young punk in over his head.

Qhuinn's second slap was harder. "Answer me. "

"No. . . prisoner. "

As Qhuinn threw back his arm again, the slayer recoiled--yup, although the fuckers were dead, their pain receptors worked just fine. "Female abductee held by your Fore-lesser. Where is she?"

John reached forward and gave his gun to Qhuinn and then, with his now-free hand, he went to the small of his back and withdrew his hunting knife. It went without saying that he was the only one who was going to do any real damage and he brought the blade around and put it right up to the lesser's eyes. Wild bucking ensued, but the struggle was quickly contained, John's huge body blanketing what was under him.

"You're going to want to talk," Qhuinn said dryly. "Trust me on this. "

"I don't know no female. " The words were nothing but a hiss, that wind-pipe constricted by John's forearm.

John gave a jerk backward and the slayer yelled, "I don't!"

Sirens were screaming now, and out in the parking lot there were multiple tire squeals.

Time to tread carefully. The lesser had already demonstrated a total disregard for the single rule in the war, so whereas with any other slayer you could be sure of silence, that was a not-so-much with Mr. Click-click Bang- bang.

John met Qhuinn's mismatched stare, but the guy was already on it. Reaching over to a pile of oily rags, Qhuinn snagged one and stuffed it into the lesser's mouth. Then it was freeze-frame time.