Page 34 of Vengeful Mates

For that disrespect, I broke his wrist and flung him backward, smashing a table and chairs in the process. He groaned, trying to pick himself off the ground, but a kick to his jaw stopped him.

The second security guard went for his phone to warn his superiors. I killed the signal and the line went dead.

Straightening my cut, I moved up to him, pressing my chest into the butt of his weapon. “Have we got a problem?”

Guess I really had a death wish. Bit like Slade in that regard. Fear of death left me a long time ago. I made my peace with it, as I knew where I’d end up once I crossed over. With Osiris in the Duat. Honored for my contribution for the god. Housed in a special place with his other avatars, free from the punishments other souls received.

The guy tried to pull back his gun, but I inched forward. “You’re not welcome in here.” His wavering voice suggested security was used to dealing with drunken patrons or sleazes who got too handsy with the hookers. They weren’t used to dealing with mobsters or bikers.

Ahh. Raine warned them about us. Well, the dumbass at the door let us in. Prick deserved to be fired.

Impatient to get past them and find Colton, I choked the bastard and knocked him out, depriving Slade of the right.

“You take the fun out of everything,” he gritted.

“We want to get out of here alive and back to our family,” I reminded.

“Boring as death sometimes.” The president punched out the third and fourth security men, and they heaped at his feet. “Bring back fun Zethan, cause this asshole sucks the life out of everything.”

Dickhead tried to get a rise, but little bothered me. As a cop, I was called everything under the sun by drunks, meth heads, and downright cunts. Maybe I ought to use my choking trick and knock him out too, before he created a brawl and firefight before I killed all the guns inside the place.

We moved deeper, the steel color transitioning into candy walls and columns. Croupiers dealt cards, scooped betting chips, and chatted with the gamblers they tended to.

“Nice place.” I scanned the illegal casino.

High rollers seated at booths with whores draped all over them. Expensive chandeliers. Top-of-the-line fixtures, furnishings, and furniture. Smoke from cigarettes created a delicious haze that stoked Slade’s furnace, and it bellowed on the bond.

Patrons stared at us. The only two men not in suits and ties, we were out of place and not welcome here.

We pressed on, confronted by another six security men trying to stop us. Like before, I killed the firing mechanisms on their guns when two raised their weapons at us.

“Bring it on, fuckers,” Slade said under his breath. God of War, burning for a fight, he launched himself at the remaining four for some hand-to-hand combat.

Every move they tested him with, he blocked, Set’s power giving Slade heightened senses, agility, and strength to combat them. I stood back, letting him take out his frustrations on Colton’s men, readying himself for the big man himself.

Furniture crashed as Slade tossed the men around like they weighed nothing. Bottles of alcohol and glasses smashed as tables came down. Females screamed and ran for cover through a staff door. Croupiers ducked below their tables. Patrons shouted and stumbled drunkenly from their chairs. Some pulled guns and some staggered away.

When only two of the security were left, a feminine voice backed by a god ordered them to stop. “Not inmyhouse of operation.”

My?

Where the fuck was Colton Raine?

CHAPTER13

Slade

Now this wasa challenge I could get behind. Fire sparked to life, blazing hot as I sized up each man, imagining how to take each one out as violently as possible. They didn’t interest me.She did.I glanced past the men toher.

Elegant and graceful. Five feet six by my estimate, and Set always helped me size up an opponent. Dressed to command respect and leadership. Designer clothes I couldn’t pronounce but Castor could. Cream blouse pulled tight, the V dipping low, bountiful cleavage on display, but not as much as the scantily clad sluts strutting around. Tight waist, wide hips tucked into a body-hugging skirt. Long, sturdy legs that looked capable of jumping off a fucking building and landing. Stockier build than Aaliyah but no less sexy.

Hair curled and free over her shoulders, held in place by a vanilla-tipped serum that tested my nose. Slanted, feline features. Beautiful in an exotic way. Eyes that held a million secrets and trapped pain. Plump mouth accustomed to giving orders. Posture that dripped authority. A high-ranking mafia woman, not some subordinate to Raine.

Out of my league by her standards. I was just a dirty biker by the way her lips curled in disgust. Fine by me. I had my mate and the way she looked at me said I was her world. Nothing else mattered. Not some stuck-up bitch’s opinion.

Bordered by eight men packing some serious weapons. Scenarios of how to eliminate each man before she moved a muscle flashed through my brain.

She didn’t need the protection. Woman was as lethal as me. I recognized her the moment I laid eyes on her. My Egyptian counterpart, by the smoky kohl eye of Horus that flashed over her eye.

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