Page 54 of Grave Curse

“Marvel’s replacement. Once Marvel got his sorry ass carved up like a Christmas turkey, Daddy thought he’d be Vice President and maybe even more. But Daddy’s just a scheming usurper to the throne. Big Man Hades knows that about Daddy. So Big Man Hades called in all the replacements that he could find. They’re here now. In Chicago. Daddy’s sad.”

None of that made sense, but before I could ask her to clarify, one of the guards outside knocked briefly and stuck his head in.

“Romeo’s trying to get a hold of you, boss,” the enforcer said, eyes on me. “He told me to tell you there’s some sort of red flag across the street. Does that make sense?”

With a curse I raced out of the room, with Yoyo’s mad cackle chasing me down the hall.

Chapter Fifteen

En Garde

I lost two precious minutes hustling my ass over to Vixen’s Den, and I wasn’t at all subtle about it. I roared in on my H-D Fat Boy, revving hard to make sure everyone who wasn’t deaf or dead could hear me coming. I barely took the time to put the kickstand in place before I blasted through the shop’s glass door. My gaze immediately sought out Ginger, standing with Roxie behind the counter, her jewel-like eyes wide and mouth tight.

Irritated, but in one piece.

Cool.

I could live with that.

On the other side of the counter, a black-haired man turned to face me. He towered over everyone but me, and had virtually the same build. Shit, if we’d been besties we could fucking wear each other’s clothes. Dressed in distressed jeans, a clean black jacket—no tags or patches—a navy blue jersey underneath and lace-up black boots, he looked like the typical biker-wannabe, complete with wind-combed black hair hanging just above his shoulders. In the process of hanging his aviator sunglasses off his collar, he looked at me with light-colored khaki eyes that reminded me of my old man.

Marvel’s replacement.

Aha.

I watched hostility flare in those eyes the moment I walked in. Good. So glad this asshole understood the situation.

“Red Flag, in the flesh.” I grinned, and wondered if it looked as serial-killer-ish as it felt. “Damn, dude. You must have balls the size of grapefruit, coming on to my property like you think you have every fucking right to do so.”

The interloper’s gaze flicked to Ginger and back again. “She’s not wearing anyone’s patch. That means she’s fair game.”

“Oh, he’s talking about actual property. You know, like real estate.” Ever the helpful one, Ginger chose to jump into this conversation like I needed a damn interpreter. Normally that would have pissed me off, but the way she watched the other man, like he was a junkyard dog known for tearing people limb from limb, sweetened my mood like nothing else. “Red Flag, this is my landlord and the man who owns this property, Tyr Colgrave.”

Roxie jolted. “He’sour landlord? Since when?”

“Since always. I’ll tell you later.”

“Snap, I don’t think introductions are necessary, though I do appreciate your graceful display of manners. Fact is, I’d be willing to bet Red Flag knows exactly who I am.” Since I was talking to my woman, I did my best to keep my tone respectful, even complimentary. But even I could hear the need to murder boiling through my tone. Oh, well. “Just as I’m sure the spineless, spying bastard standing before me understands what I said, and that I meant every fucking word. So,” I added, taking a step deeper into the shop and closer to him, “why don’t you run on home like a good little boy and report all that you’ve seen to that decrepit, twisted piece of shit across town. Not that you’ve seen all that much. Gotta say, allowing yourself to get distracted by all the pasties and rhinestones here at Vixen’s Den makes you one shitty spy.”

“Spy?” I heard Ginger’s faint whisper before her gaze snapped to Red Flag, and her pale gray eyes hardened to icy diamonds. “I fuckingknewit.”

That seemed to be the cue Red Flag had been waiting for. He launched at me in one explosive move, but I was ready for it. Time seemed to slow down as he barreled toward me in a classic wrestler’s tackle. I turned into it and whipped around with acrescent kick, putting my all into it in the hope of crushing every damn rib he had on the right side. He went flying sideways into a rack of bedazzled hoochie-mama underthings. But not before he grabbed a handful of my cut and pulled me down with him.

Then it was on.

In a blink, life was all about who could land the most punches with the most power. While unseen things crashed around us, I landed on top of the bastard who’d dared to enter my territory, a position that gave me the advantage to pummel his fucking face in. Blood flew as I got him good in the snotbox, while some part of me knew my knuckles would have a great case of fighter-bite once I smashed his sneering mouth in. Then my head snapped back thanks to a sneaky uppercut, and we went rolling into something that made flimsy articles of clothing rain down on us, along with boxes with sharp edges.

Ow.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard Ginger and Roxie screaming something about stopping, but it was way too late for that. There was no stopping this train until someone was made to grind to a fucking halt, and that wasn’t going to be me. Not even when he grabbed up a red feather boa and tried to strangle me with it, his teeth bared and bloody. In retaliation I grabbed up one of the boxes that had hit me, found a big-ass dildo falling out of it, and tried shoving it down his goddamn throat.

Choke on that, loser.

The sound of the door’s electronic bell sliced through my rage, indicating the front door just opened.

“Hello there, I have a grocery delivery for—what the freaky-frack?!”

Fuck.

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