Page 37 of Dirty Tricks

In my derangement, I could go after every one of them, teach them all a proper lesson.

Instead, I stride to the pillory and unhook the bronze fastener. The chainsaw falls silent, and I swing it onto my back, raising the beam and pulling Lexa into my arms.

Her face is swollen. Blood streams from her mouth

Guilt swamps me. I should have taken her with me, kept her under my protection even if it seemed a far more dangerous option at the time.

As my eyes investigate each wound, I feel her pain a hundred times over, my empathy slammed to maximum volume. Too much to bear. Only her responding touch as she hugs me back offers me a path to redemption.

Beyond her, Finn lies on the floor. His fly is open, arterial blood pulsing from the stump of his severed penis.

Pride swells in me that even when caught in this trap, my girl gave as good as she got. Defending herself before I could raise a hand to protect her. I would take the chainsaw to him, but vengeance belongs to Lexa. She’s the one entitled to decide his fate.

I cup her face between my hands, careful not to exert any pressure, wary of her beaten and battered flesh.

“You came back for me,” she whispers, those wide-set eyes glistening with joy and relief.

“Of course, I came back.” I rest my forehead against hers and close my eyes. All my attention focuses on her. “You’re my girl. I’m so sorry I left you alone, I—”

I shake my head as the words buffer. All my apologies. Regrets.

Anger surges, directed at my stepfather. The selfish arse whose actions tore me away from Lexa.

The selfish arse now in the boot of my car.

“Where are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, hands linking behind my neck, causing a new surge of emotion to warm my chest. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll heal.”

A shoulder slams into me, the tackle making me stagger. Lexa draws her leg back and kicks the attacking boy in the groin, doubling him over.

I laugh in appreciation, then press the button for the chainsaw to fire into life. I turn, facing the bulk of the imprisoned teenagers.

They’re all wearing the red masks. The same one I wore tonight.

A sickening thought occurs, that Finn planned this. He hand-picked his tribe. If there’d been anything left of Lexa tomorrow, no doubt they would band together, spouting alibis until each one of them was in the clear.

The fury is huge but taking out my anger on these miscreants isn’t the prize.

The love of my sweet lady is the only reward I want to claim tonight.

“You want to kill all of them?”

Lexa laughs, the sound merry and joyous. A perfect counterpoint to their screams and wails. She claps her hand and another of the boys rushes me, stopping a few inches short of the churning blade, face twisted with frustration.

I lunge, making the boy shriek, making him scamper back in retreat. His cheeks colour as the crotch of his pants turns dark. Shaking at the encounter, he retreats further. His grand gesture over before it began. Hands raised in surrender.

They can’t be armed, or they would have come for me. A smile lights my face, my twisted wreckage of a face.

“Maybe they just need a fright,” Lexa suggests with her kind heart leading the way. “To make them think twice before they scare another girl. You.” She points her finger at a quivering mass of useless testosterone. “Come over here. Put your hand on the beam.”

The boy drags his feet, and she lunges forward, teeth bared, making him jump. When he still doesn’t hurry, her eyes scour the floor, hands plucking Finn’s gun from the mess and aiming it at her target.

“You can get your arse over here or you can get shot.”

He walks over, face miserable with fear. “Put your hand on the pillory,” she says, then shakes her hand. “No. Not your whole hand. Choose a finger.”

I flash her a wicked grin as the boy stares in horror, complying only when she jerks the barrel to hurry him along. He lays his pinkie on the beam, and it barely takes a touch with the chainsaw to send it spinning to the floor.

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