lower ones were also making an appearance. Those thicker bottom fangs were only used when they needed to dig in deep and keep their prey from getting away during feeding. Showing them meant Stephanie was gearing up for a fight.
Cole reached over his shoulder and removed the spear from its harness. “Stay the hell away from Cicero,” he snarled. “And keep your whores in their kennel.”
She crouched down and scooped up her dress. Pressing the clothing against her chest, she looked up at one of those sculptures along the upper corner of the wall and said, “Are you going to keep watching this bullshit, Ace, or is someone gonna kill this jackoff?”
Chapter 7
As Cole kicked the chair away from the door, he wondered if he might have pushed things just a bit too far. The simple truth of the matter was that Stephanie had a knack for pissing him off. All she thought she had to do was strip and whisper a few things to get her way. What made him even madder was that the simple, age-old tactic had almost worked.
When he pulled open the door, Cole saw two Nymar racing toward him. One wore a black suit and the other looked more like a bouncer from the bar downstairs. He gripped his spear in both hands, brought the weapon across his face to protect himself, and then snapped it forward to crack it against the chin of the Nymar in the suit. That one twisted around and hissed loudly as he bounced off the wall. The bouncer ducked down and sent a quick uppercut into Cole’s stomach. Fortunately, Stephanie had been right about one thing: he had indeed been working out.
The punch hurt, but mostly just bounced off tensed muscle. He still had his spear held high, so he brought it around to swat the Nymar’s hand away to create an opening just big enough for him to bring his right leg up into a simple straight kick. His foot pounded against the bouncer’s hip and sent the guy staggering back a few steps.
More footsteps pounded up the stairs from the bar. A second later Astin was in the waiting room and looking for something to damage. He didn’t have to look far before spotting the commotion in the hallway.
“Astin!” someone barked from the opposite end of the hall.
Astin, Cole, and both of the other Nymar looked toward the sound of that voice to find a wiry guy with a partially shaved head strutting toward the fight. The guy appeared to be somewhere in his early twenties and wore a dark gray suit that looked as if it had been tailored to fit a teenage girl. His black markings stretched all the way up from his neck to his cheek, but didn’t quite make it to the symbol shaved into the left side of his scalp. It was a diamond. The last time Cole had seen Ace, the symbol had been a club.
“No need for things to get worse,” the wiry Nymar said. “You’ll upset our clients.”
Astin understood exactly what he’d been told and took his hand away from whatever was holstered under his arm.
Stephanie didn’t hit the brakes so easily. In fact, she exploded from the room, still barely covering herself with her dress as she shrieked, “Nobody treats me like that, Ace! If someone doesn’t shred this Skinner motherfucker soon, I’ll do it and then work my way through the rest of you!”
That made the customer in the waiting room squirm more than anything else.
While most of the Nymar reflexively backed away from her, Ace held his ground. “Put some clothes on, Steph,” he said. “You look ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous, huh? You want to see—”
“Everyone’s seen more than enough,” Ace cut in. “Don’t ya think?”
Stephanie bared her teeth, but her fangs were actually slipping back up under her gums. While drawing her mouth into a tight line, she pulled her dress on over her head and twisted it around so she could fit the straps on properly.
By this time several of the other doors along the hallway were opening and girls were peeking out. A few anxious men and women were trying to get a peek as well, but were being pulled back inside by their Nymar hosts. Farther down the hall, one of the doors near the back staircase opened and a woman sauntered through.
“Hello, Ace,” Cole said without lowering his guard. “Glad to see you can still rein in your girl, here.”
“I don’t want my place busted up, that’s all,” Ace replied. “That don’t mean you’re about to walk out of here without sportin’ a couple fresh bruises. This about Rita wandering too close to Cicero?”
“If Rita rides along with someone named Sid and another guy with hair from the Reagan era, then yeah. She was
Ace shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Aw, Steph. That’s not good.”
Tugging at the sides of her dress to fit it back into place, Stephanie growled, “Give it a rest.”
“Did you make him the offer?” Ace asked.
“Yes. He refused.”
“Astin?” Ace asked.
“Customer’s gone,” Astin said. “Gave him twenty percent off his next visit and sent him on his way. Bar’s clear too.”
“Good,” Ace said as he reached under his suit coat to remove a pearl-handled .38 from where it had been holstered. “The rest of our guests are regulars. They don’t mind a little noise, so that means we can get back to the good stuff.”
Not all of the Nymar drew guns, but they were all baring fangs. The bouncer had the pinched face and tight lips of someone who was about to spit. Since some Nymar were known to deliver their venom that way, Cole went for him first. Anticipating that move, the bouncer grabbed his arm and nearly pulled it from its socket when Cole used his weapon to push him into a wall. As the air was forced from his lungs, venom sprayed from the tips of the bouncer’s thin, snakelike fangs. Being all too familiar with the paralyzing effects of Nymar venom, Cole brought his spear straight up so the middle of the weapon caught the bouncer squarely on the chin. Nothing fancy, but it was enough to dim the guy’s lights and send the poisonous spray over his head. The blow also drove the thorns in the handle deeper into Cole’s palms, sending pain through his system like a hundred espressos mainlined into his arteries.
He turned toward Ace, knowing the skinny prick had a gun. Ace was still holding the .38, but appeared to be distracted by something else. Before Cole could make another move, that .38 was pointed directly at him.
There were things Paige had taught him to do in that situation, moves he’d practiced and tips he’d been given, but they all just coagulated into a cold lump and dropped to the bottom of his stomach. No amount of training would allow him to just shrug off being at the wrong end of a gun.
The first thing he thought to do was stab Ace with his spear. His reflexes were enhanced by just enough panic and adrenaline for him to step aside and drive his weapon forward as the pistol went off. A round hissed past his temple as his weapon made contact with its target. If the pointed end of the spear had been facing forward, it might have impaled the Nymar’s hand in a very impressive way. As it was, Ace’s wrist was wedged within the forked end of Cole’s spear.
Slowly, Ace’s lips formed a grin. “Nice try, Skinner.”
Cole had wanted to strike with the single sharpened end.
The sharpened end of his spear was the one he’d meant to use.
Not the forked end!
The sharpened end!
The spear in his hand twitched. He thought to pull it away before someone took it from him, but couldn’t move it back. When he pulled a bit harder, Ace staggered forward. That’s when Cole noticed that the forked end of his weapon had snapped shut like a pair of wooden scissors. It wasn’t what he’d had in mind, but he was now looking at a single sharpened end that had enclosed around the Nymar’s gun.
For the first time since he’d strutted down the hallway, Ace looked worried. His hand was stuck within the makeshift clamp and getting squeezed hard enough for his gun to be angled toward the spitting bouncer. When Ace tried to adjust the angle of the gun, his hand was twisted painfully against the joint.
