She punched him in the side of the head, grabbing him before he could fall out of his chair and sitting him upright, patting him on the shoulders. “That’s okay, dude. I know you have better things on your mind than keeping track of numbers. We’ll come back to you in a minute.”
She reached over and jabbed Emilio in his ruined right shoulder, which triggered another round of silent screaming from him. “Remember, Dewi Says no lying. Using your quiet voice, dude, answer my question. You rape anyone, and if so, how many?”
“No one, I swear.”
“Yeah, I know you have to swear, because Dewi Says you can’t lie to me. But you were going to fuck her?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm. I have an ethical quandary.” She looked at Martin. “Guilty?”
He nodded. “In my book, yes.”
“Cool. So, Emilio, what other sins do you have to confess?”
He wasn’t a rapist—yet—but he’d been guilty of a slew of other crimes, including pimping out a cousin of his when she was only seventeen. He and Jarome had served time together several years earlier, which is how they got to know each other.
“Well, guess what?” Dewi crowed. “You get a point, too, Emilio. Isn’t that great?” She slapped Monty across the face, grabbing his chin and forcing the concussed man to look at her. “Your turn, asshole. Dewi Says. Everyone gets to play, and everyone’s a winner. You were going to fuck her?”
He nodded.
“You rape anyone before?”
He nodded.
“More than one?”
He nodded.
“How many? Ballpark average is fine, buddy. I know you’re hurtin’ right now. I give wicked head…punches.”
Martin snorted, but didn’t interrupt.
Monty finally managed to whisper, “Six or eight.”
“
Awe
some,” she snarked. She let go of his chin and his head lolled, the man barely remaining conscious.
She scooped up the cell phones from the table. “Gentlemen, before me I see assembled the toilet scum of the greater Ybor City area. Being the civic-minded person I am, I always love to help do my duty to keep the streets safer. If I can save taxpayer dollars in the process, even better. Normally our pack stays out of human business, but y’all brought us in by fucking with ours.”
She motioned for Martin and Beck to back up toward the living room, behind her as she edged out of the splash zone. “Sparky, pick up your gun and shoot Monty right in the mouth.”
He did. Monty fell over sideways, chair going one way, his body going the other.
“Good. Now put Emilio out of his misery, huh? Poor bastard. That shoulder must hurt like a motherfucker.”
He turned and fired, the man slumping over the table.
“Good. Now, I want you to suck-start that motherfucking gun in your hand,” she said. “Finish things off right.”
He did, his lifeless body landing splayed on the floor.
She looked at Beck and Martin. “You two, out the back. Get the car and meet me out there. I’ll be right behind you.” She handed them the men’s cell phones and then they headed out the back door. Dewi returned to Jarome, who sat there, tears in his eyes, silently howling in pain and fear.
Her nose wrinkled. “Aw, see? You did shit yourself. That’s great. Job well done.” She grabbed him by the chin. “You’re the one who lives, asshole. Not that you’ll enjoy it. See, here’s the thing. You get to remember every motherfucking second of what just happened here. But you aren’t going to tell the cops shit about me, or about my friends. You aren’t going to say anything about Malyah, or Da’von. Or Nami, or Lu’ana, or Reggie, or Bebe. You tried to make contact with them, they told you to fuck the fuck off, and you did, because you’re a respectful kind of guy like that, aren’t you?” She clamped a hand around his shoulder as he started nodding.
“Glad we’re on the same page. The story you tell the cops is y’all four here were having a fight about drugs. Old Sparky got the jump on you other three. You were going to try to shoot him, but, wouldn’t you know it, your gun got caught on your pants and you accidentally shot your own balls off. That’s called instant Karma right there, dude.”
Jarome nodded, his mouth wide in a silent scream, tears streaming down his face.
“Excellent. Then, you guess Sparky just couldn’t deal with what he’d done, and he killed himself. That’s what you will tell the cops, and that will remain your story, no matter how many times you tell it. No matter how much you want to tell them about the crazy white bitch who came in here and fucked up your shit ten ways to Doomsday, you won’t be able to. And it’ll eat you alive from the inside out for the rest of your goddamned life. But no matter what, you’ll never be able to say it. Haha, or write it. Or convey it to any other person in any way, shape, or form. But you’ll know it.”
She knelt next to him and grabbed his chin, her fingers digging in. “And no matter how much they question you, your story
will
.
Not
.
Change
. You stopped trying to contact your family when they told you to fuck off. If they start questioning you harder concerning this little party game here? Why, feel free to hint around about your little friends with the skimmer business. Maybe even implicate them in a drug deal gone bad or something. I don’t know, I don’t care. I’m sure you can figure something out but your story won’t change once you tell it.”
She squeezed harder, short of shattering his jaw and relishing the pain in his eyes. “But no matter what, I was
never
here. You’ve never heard of me. These two guys who were with me? They weren’t here, either. Neither were Malyah or Nami. You’ll know the truth, but you’ll never be able to tell another living or dead soul about it.” She smiled and patted him on the cheek. “And, oh yeah, you’ll never, ever attempt to contact your family again. You don’t have a family anymore because you were a massive fuck-up. Got it?”
He nodded.
“Excellent.” She drew back her lips, exposing her full canines. “You see me, asshole? What I really am? I will haunt your motherfucking nightmares, for the rest of your life. While you’re rotting in prison, you will know what really happened here today. You will remember every second of it. You’ll dream about it every time you close your fucking eyes. But you’ll never be able to speak it.”
She stood. “You know what? You’ll become a model prisoner, too. Trying to help keep young punks in line.” She giggled as she headed toward the back door. “That should give you some extra fun times in general population. Oh, and in five minutes, you’ll be able to get up and talk and move around again. If you haven’t bled out by then, of course.”
She stepped out onto the back porch and headed down the rickety steps, breathing deeply, trying to will her canines back into their usual position.
She’d stripped off the gloves, turning them inside out, by the time she reached the sidewalk. Martin’s car slid to a stop next to her and she got into the back seat, the door barely closing as he took off again.
“There’s a thing of wipes back there,” Martin said.
“Thanks.” She dropped the gloves onto the floor and wiped her hands and arms off. What she wanted was a full soak in the hot tub back at the house, to rinse the nasty funk of the crack shack off her flesh.
“You want us to hit a Publix, or a Winn Dixie?” Beck asked. “We can hop on the Interstate and jump off again in a couple of minutes.”
“I don’t give a shit,” she growled. “As long as the meat’s raw.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Martin pulled up in front of a Publix and Beck dove out the passenger door. “Go park far out. I’ll be right back.”
Martin wheeled the car around and pulled into a spot at the end of the parking lot, away from any other cars. Unfortunately, there weren’t any trees for shade in this lot.
He put it in park and looked back over the seat at Dewi. “You okay, chief?”
She nodded. “You know how it is.”
“I do, and I don’t envy you.”
He got out, opening the back door for her, standing there waiting as Beck ran out less than three minutes later, two large London broils in a plastic bag. He tossed them to Martin and turned around to head back inside.
Dewi had already finished those two cuts of meat when Beck returned with several steaks and a jug of drinking water.
The two men stood there, watching her finish the rest of the steaks, while also blocking any casual onlookers from seeing what she was doing.
A woman sitting in a Publix parking lot and wolfing down raw cuts of meat might wig some people out, give them the wrong impression.
“Wow, man,” Martin said to Beck. “That’s just…wow.”
Beck snorted. “Poor Ken. You should have seen him that first night, when she took out Peckingham. Badger told me it looked like his eyes were going to bug out of his head.”
“How does
that
work, anyway?” Martin asked. “I mean, a Prime Alpha mated to a
grazer
?”
Dewi let out a soft growl and paused mid-steak. “I’m sitting
right
here.”
Beck laughed. “Yeah? So? Eat your meat.”
“Did you get her some tapioca?” Martin asked.
The other two wolves looked at him. “What?” Beck asked.
“You know, that song. About eating your meat—”
“Holy crap, Beck. Shut him up before I eat
him
. It should be a goddamned sin not to know Pink Floyd better than that.”
* * * *
The three of them returned to Dewi’s house after she finished her raw parking lot picnic, using the jug of water Beck had purchased to both wash the gore off her hands and wash down the meat.
On the way to the house, Beck’s phone rang. It was Badger, to report everyone was there, safe, and waiting.
“Tell him Malyah isn’t to talk to anyone about what happened until I get there,” Dewi said. “Whatever he’s got to do to soothe it over, do it.”
Beck relayed the instructions. Meaning Badger could go full Prime on them.
When they returned to the house, Nami ran into the kitchen at the sound of Dewi, Beck, and Martin coming through the garage door. Nami burst into tears and charged them. Dewi was preparing to step out of the way, assuming Nami wanted her mate, but it was Dewi who was Nami’s target.
The woman wrapped her arms around Dewi, sobbing, hugging her, nearly knocking Dewi off her feet. “Thank you,” Nami tearfully whispered. “I don’t want or need to know what happened, but thank you. I love you.”
Dewi looked at Beck over Nami’s shoulder. He stood there, smiling a little, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a playful way that just a few short months ago would have gotten him laid on the spot.
Literally.
Behind Nami’s back, Dewi opened her hands toward him, a silent question. He just smiled more broadly and shrugged, leaning against the wall and looking extremely amused.
He damn near looked smug.
Dewi realized Nami wasn’t going to end the hug until she was damn well ready to end it, so Dewi gave in and went back to gently patting the woman’s back.
“You saved my family,” Nami said. “I love you so, so much. You have no idea.”
“It’s okay, Nami. That’s what family does. That’s what the pack does. We take care of each other. You’re part of the pack now, and even though your family can’t know about the wolf stuff, they’re part of the pack because you’re part of the pack.”
After a few minutes, Nami still hadn’t let go. “Look, Beck,” Dewi said, sounding a little squished now. “She’s still hugging me.”
Beck snorted as Ken burst into laughter. “Let it happen, Dewi,” Beck said. “Just let it happen. She’ll be done in a minute.”
* * * *
Understandably, Lu’ana, Reggie, and Da’von had a lot of questions that only Badger’s Prime powers had kept at bay. Dewi took Malyah outside onto the lanai, alone, to talk with her.
Seated at the table, Dewi faced her, taking Malyah’s hands in hers and gently squeezing as she offered the shaken woman a smile. “How are you feeling, Malyah?”
“I’m…confused. I don’t understand what happened.”
Dewi noted the bruise on Malyah’s cheek was darkening, deepening. “Here’s what happened, sweetie. You were getting ready for work this morning, and you were in a hurry. Big hurry. You spilled your coffee on the kitchen floor, and when you went to clean it up, you slipped in it and hit your head on the kitchen counter. Knocked you clean out for a couple of hours. You woke up on the floor. When you realized how long you’d been unconscious, you got scared and called your sister. She came and picked you up, and we got you in to see our family doctor.”
Dewi reached up with one hand and gently turned Malyah’s chin to get a better look at the bruise. “He said you’re lucky you didn’t fracture your cheekbone, and he doesn’t want you driving for a couple of days until you’re feeling better. So you’re going to spend the weekend here at our house, with Nami. We’ll call your work in a few minutes and we’ll talk to them for you, explain what happened. And our doctor can get you a note, if you need to.”