Page 10 of Balthazar's Fire

It had to be Cherie they were talking about. How many women did Monroe keep in his basement? Balthazar’s breath caught as he realized that he might not like the answer to that inquiry.

“The boss is a lucky guy,” the thinner one replied with a throaty cackle. “I’d certainly have a good time down there if I had half a chance.”

“Asshole.” Balthazar scarcely kept the retort to a whisper, his hand tightening on the handle of his gun. If either of those clowns had so much as touched Cherie, he’d ensure it was the last thing they ever did.

Calm down, he reminded himself. Remember what you told Draco. No one has to die.

As he stared at the guys talking about the woman he wanted with such casual disregard, Balthazar knew differently. As a man, he was ever sensible—the one who had shouldered most of the family responsibility since their father had passed. Not too far below the surface, though, Balthazar was an animal, and his dragon took few prisoners. He’d kill them without the damn gun. He’d rip them to shreds with his bare fucking hands. In high-pressure situations, it was difficult to find balance between the man and the beast.

“He’s not the boss,” the bald one countered as they closed the door. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a single key and turned it in the lock, sealing Cherie into the darkness of her captivity. “He’s only the boss’ son.”

“Whatever.” The other one rolled his eyes. “They’re all Monroes, man, and that means they run the show.”

Draco shot a look in Balthazar’s direction, his intent obvious even without telepathy.

We need that key.

The thought was branded into Balthazar’s mind, his gaze following the metal key’s path back into the loser’s pocket.

“I’m going for it.” Balthazar mouthed the words at his brother. “Cover me.”

“Go,” Draco hissed, rising with his weapon poised at the same time Balthazar lurched into action.

“Hey, assholes!” Balthazar’s long strides closed the distance between them and Monroe’s men with ease.

“Who the fuck are you?” The skinny one’s brows knitted at Balthazar’s approach. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Wrong answer,” Balthazar replied, grabbing the moron by his hair and slamming him face-first into the wall. Colliding with a satisfying thud, the man slid down the breeze block.

“What the—” started the bald guy, fiddling in his pocket for what Balthazar assumed was a weapon.

“I don’t think so,” Draco interrupted as he approached and shoved his own gun into the man’s face. “Do you?”

“What do you want?” Baldy’s eyes widened as Draco backed him into the wall beside his buddy.

“Your fucking hands up,” Draco commanded.

“And your key,” Balthazar snarled, signaling to the pocket he’d put the key into.

“Now,” Draco emphasized, jabbing the barrel into his chest.

“O-Okay!” Stretching his chubby fingers out in front of them, one hand slowly lowered to his pocket.

“I think not,” Balthazar decided out loud. “We don’t want you reaching into your pocket alone now, so how about I help you out?”

Not that Balthazar wanted to have to get any closer to the guy, let alone reach into his trouser pocket, but he had no choice. He and Draco had no idea what the moron could be concealing there.

Pulling in a breath, Balthazar sunk his hand deep into the guy’s pocket, inadvertently breathing in the jerk’s foul stench as his finger grazed the metal object. Grasping for it, Balthazar pulled it free, examining it in the light.

“Let me try it while my brother has you covered.” Balthazar smirked, waiting as Draco pressed the barrel harder against the guy. The bald guy folded like paper, whimpering as his hands wavered in the air.

Walking to the door, Balthazar slipped the key inside and turned it in the lock, his heart swelling with excitement as the door opened. Balthazar still didn’t know for sure that Cherie was down there, but he sensed it was true and that at the bottom of the stairs was the woman who hadn’t left his mind since he’d first set eyes on her.

“We’re in,” he told Draco, who met his eyes briefly before turning back to the bald guy.

“Whatever you’re going to do, you won’t get away with it,” the baldy mewled as he gestured to the corner of the space. “This place is covered in C.C.T.V. We’re being watched right now.”

“Then we’d better make this fast,” Balthazar concurred, nodding to his brother. “Good night, asshole.”

---