Page 21 of Claimed By the Hitman: Codename Cupid

"You're the ones who sat down, dropped ten thousand for chips each, and got up without playing a hand." I plop my empty glass down on a waitress’s tray as she saunters by, along with my last chip. "I thought a devil and his demon dog would be more at home in Sin City..."

"Cute," Hades sizzles. "Head toward the parking garage. Don't try to fight, Cupid."

I smile broadly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

We leave the noise and haze of cigarette smoke behind us, delving into the cool subterranean lot. Hades takes the lead, and Cerberus can't resist shoving me along even though I'm keeping pace with his master. The attack dog is restless; he's not accustomed to taking targets in alive.

"Disappointing," he grunts. "Bullshit. Cupid ain't shit. All those stories are shit."

"My reputation precedes me, I see."

"Shut up."

"Consider yourself lucky, Cerberus. I'd put you down like the dog you are."

Hades opens the passenger door of an all-black SUV. There's a black bag resting on the seat. "Get in and place the bag over your head. Protocol. I'm sure you understand."

I smile back at Cerberus, shrug, and grab the bag. "Certainly. Just take it easy on the turns, or I might puke all over the leather."

Behind me, the dog fumes. "This is such shit. You're so lucky that bitch of yours isn't here. We'll find her. We'll find her and put her down."

Hades meets my eyes and sighs.

I turn slowly to face his pet. "Go on, take a shot at me. Rough me up. If you can manage to land a blow on me, I'll say I resisted. Then you can tell everyone that you beat the famous Cupid."

Hades shuffles behind me. I think he's turned around.

Cerberus's crazy eyes dart between me and his boss before he throws a lumbering but powerful punch. He's a stout, thick man. Admittedly, I'd never want to feel that fist crashing against my face.

That's why I catch the punch in the black bag instead. I twist his arm awkwardly, making him yelp before I silence him with the jab to the throat.

Cerberus keels over and chokes like an old dog.

Hades turns around and jiggles his keys. "Are you quite done?"

Cerberus coughs and growls before righting himself. "Yep." He may be dumb, but he's tough.

I retrieve the bag and pat him on the shoulder before I get in the car. Hades slides a silenced pistol back into his black coat. He lets Cerberus have this fun, but he would have ended me in a heartbeat if he needed to.

I put the bag on my head and bounce in my seat. "To Olympia, boys! I'm so excited. It's been years! Feels like going to Disneyland."

"Happiest place on earth," Hades drones.

Cerberus gets in the back seat. "What a prick."

We get rolling to whatever lair that white speaker is waiting for me in.

Somewhere else in the world—in a location I would not disclose to the most painful interrogation techniques—Rose Watson waits safely with her fingers on an array of triggers, eyes on the schedule I've had worked out for months.

I think about her the entire ride: the taste of her, the way she moans my true name, and the future waiting for us.

Already, things are starting to explode.

Usually, Zeus makes you wait. It's an interrogation tactic. Cops love it. Counter-terrorism units live by it. The slow tick of time and the boredom of an all white room would make anyone grateful to hear that disembodied voice come through the speaker.

Today, he's booming before they even get the bag off my head.

Is this you? Is this your doing, Cupid? Where's Hera? What have you done!?

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