Page 19 of Guarded By the Krampus

“Baby,” she purred, rocking against me in disappointment.

I wasn’t sure what cue I should take from that. Was this version of Satin likely to date someone who was an asshole? Should I bellow and throw the table against the wall? Or should I just wrap my arm around her indulgently and ask if we could leave now, with my metaphorical tail between my legs?

Before I could decide what to do next, though, the decision was taken away from us—men with guns out burst through the high-stakes door.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I picked her up without thinking, shielding her with my entire frame, as I ran for the bar and leapt over it—on her blueprint the bar led to a kitchen, that would lead to us getting the hell out—except we weren’t the only ones who knew that. We made it into a small, steel-walled room, only to find ourselves trapped by another set of men with guns—and I noticed the caliber of all of theirs were significantly higher than the ones I’d faced the prior night.

I kicked one of the kitchen stainless steel counters loose, before picking it up to hold it up in front of us, to use like a battering ram as I dragged her along beside me, keeping her wrapped in one protective arm—then I realized that they weren’t shooting—yet.

Most likely because they needed Satin alive.

And I would die before letting that happen.

I’d bellowed a warning to hopefully scare some of them before I charged, when Satin yelled, “Stop!”

I made an animalistic sound of frustration, and dared a glance down. Satin was plucking at herself—there was a splash of red on her white blouse—had she been hurt? Had I hurt her?

And then realized the blood was mine—from the wound we hadn’t gotten around to suturing the prior night. I was bleeding on her, and she knew it.

She made the world’s saddest expression at me, and then banged on our side of the metal. “Who’s in charge out there?”

There was a dark chuckle. “Salvio. Welcome back, broken bird.”

I watched the color drain out of Satin’s already pale face. “If I come out…will you let him live?”

“I’m fine,” I growled at her, and then out to the men at large. “Go fuck yourself.”

It was an appropriate combat situation. Royce would’ve been proud.

“Goat-man, we have enough weaponry out here to not only blast through that sheet of metal, but to turn you into tartare.”

“But you need me!” Satin protested, and the man on the other side clucked.

“No, broken bird. We only need one part of you. And I’m fairly sure we can fish it out of your corpse.”

What the fuck was that man talking about? I’d seen all of her the prior night.

Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a Barrett M82 being cocked, the bolt slamming home a fifty-caliber round, and realized the men on the other side of the metal countertop were completely ready to not only take me out, but Satin as well, and everyone that might be behind us for the next fifteen hundred yards. It was massive overkill, but it proved they meant business.

“I’ll surrender, if you promise not to hurt her.”

“Ace!” Satin hissed. “No!”

“Ahhh,” the man on the other side of the steel said knowingly. “A man of wisdom.”

“They won’t keep their word! They’ll kill you, and me!”

I couldn’t explain to her that I didn’t have a chance against a Barrett—but if I saw where the fuck it was, we might be able to successfully get around it.

“Say it,” I shouted, waiting for Salvio to respond.

“Very well. I promise we won’t hurt your bird, if you come out. Hands up. Just like in the movies, eh?”

“If you do hurt her,” I said, slowly lowering the metal countertop. “I’ll chase you into hell.”

The man with the Barrett was standing front and center. I’d made the right call. We hadn’t had a chance.

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