The King and the Courtesan (16 page)

The man leered at me but pushed away, and I pulled on the hem of my skirt with a
hmph
. He hadn’t found the knife tucked into my bra; for all his groping, he’d still failed to disarm me.

“All right,” the biggest of the men growled, taking Ezekiel’s arm. “Get moving.”

“I can walk on my own. No need to lead me like a dog,” Ezekiel muttered, but the man didn’t let go of him. I saw him glance at Bruce, who, if I wasn’t mistaken, nodded minutely. They knew what to do even though I was left in the dark. I took some comfort in knowing they weren’t afraid like I was.

The building we entered wasn’t like the glittering casinos downtown. It wasn’t a decrepit warehouse one might imagine in a movie scene, but it was made with corporate interests in mind—cheap linoleum, gray walls, and poor lighting. It looked like some sort of office building after hours, so most of it was dark. We were taken into a staircase and ordered to climb. I found it interesting how, even when shoved around by a crony, Ezekiel retained his powerful air.

More men joined us on the third floor, toting big guns and heavy scowls. One of them found it necessary to grab me, though at least he wasn’t feeling me up like the other man had. I fell a bit behind because of my heels, but I managed to make it to the fourth floor without losing either shoe.

We were taken to an office at the end of the hall, this one decorated more lavishly than the corridors that led to it. It had a large window with a decent view of downtown Goddess, an aquarium in the corner, and stained wood floors. A desk stood at the end of the room, and behind it sat Jerry Broderick, Ezekiel’s acquaintance from the fight club, wearing a dark green suit that flattered his trim form. His graying hair was combed and swept into a perfect coiffure, nearly matching the white shoes he had perched on top of his desk. He looked as relaxed and comfortable as Ezekiel, with a silver pistol in his hand and a phone in the other. He straightened when we entered, but he still remained reclined in his leather chair, grinning like a fat king on his throne.

“Ezekiel, welcome!” he cried, throwing up his hands and removing his feet from the desk. He stood, straightening his silk-collared suit jacket. “I’m sorry about the rather cold reception, but one must be careful in this business.”

Ezekiel ripped his arm from the crony’s grasp, and the man allowed it. With a jerk of his head, Jerry ordered the men back against the door. I let out a small sigh when the powerful grasp left my elbow, but my relief didn’t last long. I realized we were standing in the center of a heavily armed circle of drug traffickers. A flush bloomed along my chest, and a thin sheen of sweat started between my thighs. The knife in my bra felt heavy and useless.

“You’re pulling out,” Ezekiel said calmly.

“Shocked? Honestly, Ezekiel, you know I’m a businessman. I go where the money is. And right now, the money is with Blue Kitten.”

Ezekiel sneered. “It has a pet name now?”

Jerry smiled, all white teeth and debonair charm. I wondered if he was married with children. He struck me as the kind of guy who would lead a double life. “I find it rather cute, don’t you? Anyway, it’s been selling well. Flying off the shelves, in fact.”

Ezekiel’s eyes sharpened. “It’s going to get people killed, and then you’ll really have the government shining a light up your ass.”

“If I can sell it, I don’t give a shit who it kills. Do you actually
care
about your customers, Ezekiel? Have you gone soft?”

Ezekiel raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me, but if I’m not mistaken, Broderick, killing off your buyers is a bad investment. Right now you’ve got these druggies climbing over dead bodies to get their fix, but eventually, you’ll run out of suicidal scum, and you’ll be left with an extinct clientele.”

“The difference between you and I, Ezekiel, is that you don’t take chances. I do. Anyone in this business has to be willing to take the risk.”

“The difference between you and me is that I think in the long term while you gamble away your profits on get-rich-quick schemes. Do you run your oil business like this? I’m shocked it hasn’t gone belly-up by now.”

Jerry sighed heavily and sat on the edge of his desk, dropping his gun-wielding arm between his thighs. “You don’t see, Ezekiel. I
know
that Blue Kitten will eventually lose its grip in the market when the death toll climbs. I
know
that the longer it stays on the market, the more notice I’ll draw from higher-ups. That’s why I’ll move on to the next fad in a few months—I just have to stay on my feet. It keeps me sharp.”

“Seems like a lot of work that’s not worth the benefits. I’ve developed a reliable income and a reputation for myself. I’m not going to go skipping around and throwing my money away to anyone who can create the next new super drug. I root myself and I find people I can trust—a system that works and a clientele that will last for years.”

“Amusing, isn’t it? I, the old man, am more interested in the next big thing, while you, a young man, want to stay rooted in tradition.” A predatory smile tweaked at Jerry’s lips. “The problem is, Ezekiel, staying put makes you too predictable. That’s why I’m pulling out of your operation and investing my funds elsewhere. If you want to milk this market, you’ve gotta stay three steps ahead of everyone else. It’s a tragedy, really. You’re one of the most promising young men I’ve seen in the business.” He lifted his gun slightly. “Which makes you dangerous competition.” His arm swung up and he pointed the pistol at Ezekiel’s head. “Competition I must eliminate.”

I watched Ezekiel in horror, waiting for him to show a flicker of fear or doubt that would make him human. But his eyes stayed blank, as if he’d done this before. He wasn’t afraid at all. I could practically hear my bones clacking, I was shaking so hard, and I wasn’t even the victim.

“Interesting that you use the word ‘predictable,’ Broderick. Because either you’re stupid, or you’re mistaken.”

Suddenly, the floor jolted underneath me, and a loud
boom
pierced the air with such force that, for a moment, I couldn’t hear anything but a soft buzz in my ears. Hot air slapped my back, and once more the floor trembled. I stumbled into Ezekiel, but everyone was moving and shouting and I didn’t know what was going on. There were gunshots that rang out, the signature crackle of flames, and a more intense heat filling the room. I’d collapsed to my knees, but someone was yanking me to a stand. I grabbed at his jacket, assuming it was Ezekiel. But when I looked into a pair of dark brown eyes, I let out a cry of shock. Before I could react, Broderick whipped me around, wrapped an arm around my throat, and pressed a gun to my temple.

I could see what had happened. It had to have been a bomb or some form of arson that started the fire now crackling out in the hall. Three people were face down and not moving, one of them at Bruce’s feet, his neck twisted all the way around. Bruce, Garrett, and Ezekiel had guns pointed at Broderick. His cronies were aiming their guns as well, though they shifted, now suddenly nervous. I could understand. Without guns, these three were only slightly intimidating. With them, the game’s stakes had risen.

Someone was going to get shot. It was only a matter of whom.

The pistol was cold and heavy against my temple, and I closed my eyes, imagining the bullet within the chamber destined for my skull.
Oh God, this is it
. This was the last night of my life. Ezekiel was in the perfect position to shoot Broderick. So what if I died in the process? It didn’t matter. Broderick had to die, and I was a pawn. I had wasted my whole life for a fancy dress and some authentic diamond earrings. I regretted everything.

“What was that?” Broderick demanded. “What did you do?”

“Bruce and Garrett aren’t my only employees, Broderick,” Ezekiel stated calmly, his gun never wavering. “And Roger is rather good at creating distractions.”

“You son of a—”

“If you let her go, I won’t kill you tonight,” Ezekiel growled. “I’ll let you fly home and hide.”

“Your word means nothing. Neither does she. At least, not to me. But does she mean something to you?” The gun pressed harder against my skin. “How about we find out? Put your guns down, and she doesn’t get hurt.”

Ezekiel did no such thing. I inhaled sharply and bit my lip. I was going to die because some drug lords had quarrels I had nothing to do with. Why had fate destined me to escape death multiple times with clients only to do away with me now? This wasn’t the way I had planned on going.

“So you don’t care about her, is that it?” His arm tightened around my throat. “And here I thought she was special. You’re not one to fraternize with women. How well have you been paying her? I can’t imagine anyone would spend time with you willingly.”

“Let her go,” Ezekiel ordered, his voice still flat and emotionless.

“Put down your guns, and I will.”

I opened my eyes and tried to catch Ezekiel’s gaze. He wasn’t looking at me, though.

“I’ll give you five seconds to decide,” Broderick snapped. “Or the bitch dies.”

“Before you start the countdown, tell me…how fast does it take a message to travel from the brain to the trigger finger?”

Broderick paused. “Stop playing games with me, Ezekiel.”

“Roughly twenty-five meters per second.”

The gun on my temple shifted slightly. “Is this some sort of riddl—”

“And how fast does a bullet travel?”

“Ezek—”

A gunshot rang off, and for a moment, I expected my world to blink into nothing. But when I felt an arm slip from my neck and heard a
thump
, I opened my eyes to find Broderick dead, with a hole in the center of his forehead.

“Faster than that,” Ezekiel hissed.

The men around us jumped into action. Ezekiel crashed into me just as a bullet lodged itself into the wall where my head had been. He threw me behind a chair right before its plump exterior exploded from gunfire. Ezekiel rolled and squeezed in front of me, shedding his jacket, and I saw blood spreading across the shoulder of his starched, white shirt. It didn’t look like a bullet had gone through, but something must have clipped him.

I couldn’t see what was going on, nor did I have the urge to poke my nose out and look. I covered my head and cowered on the floor, screaming each time bullets punched the chair’s stuffing. Ezekiel ran out of bullets quickly, and he cursed. Seconds later, something dark skittered toward his hand. Another gun. Someone must have thrown it to him.

There was shouting outside, but all had gone quiet around me. Ezekiel stood, but I remained on the floor, still holding my head in my hands. I only uncurled myself when Ezekiel grabbed my arm and yanked me to an uneasy stand.

Dead bodies littered the floor. None of them looked familiar. And now there were four men left standing.
Only four
? I gaped at Roger, who had suddenly appeared, holding two guns, his jacket covered with ash and dust.

Bruce clutched his shoulder, blood leaking through his fingers. He didn’t seem to care much, because he strode over to Ezekiel and spoke to him in a low whisper. Garrett was by the front door, leaning against the threshold, gun at the ready. I supposed he was planning to shoot anyone who tried entering.

I gaped at Roger’s ferocious scowl. When he saw me, it fell away with concern. He rushed over to me.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

I nodded, trying not to cry. “Are
you
okay?”

“Little bruised up, but I’ll be fine.”

“Roger.” Ezekiel stepped beside him. “Bruce will be behind, Garrett in front. You’re in charge of her, understand?”

“Of course, sir.”

Ezekiel nodded, ignoring the blood still staining the shoulder of his shirt. He went to Garrett, who still guarded the door.

“Roger,” I whimpered. “I’m-I’m scared.”

“It’ll be fine. Just stay behind me, okay?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Roger gently pulled me toward the door. Garrett nodded and crept into the aisle, gun raised. Ezekiel followed, then Roger, then me, then Bruce. I would have abandoned my shoes, but there was glass everywhere, not to mention flames eating away at blackened and charred rooms down the hall. Thick smoke stung my eyes, making it difficult to see, and I covered my mouth with my hand.

The stairwell door flew open, and a man barged into the aisle. Garrett took him out with one shot to the neck. I yelped into my hand and leapt closer to Roger. His grip on my wrist tightened, but his face stayed blank.

“Any chance of using the fire escape?” Bruce asked.

“The explosion ripped off the far wall.” Roger pointed to the hole at the end of the corridor. “I’m sorry, but the stairwell is our only option.”

“Just a minor deterrence,” Ezekiel muttered. “Bruce, can your arm still work?”

Bruce winced as he swung his arm to prove its worth. “It’ll be fine, sir.”

“Good. I need you all in working order for this.” Ezekiel bent his head toward the stairwell door. “You go out first, and I’ll shoot from behind you.”

“Yes, sir,” Garrett replied.

I restrained myself from digging my face into Roger’s back like a scared toddler. I didn’t know how capable Roger was of protecting me, but I felt better behind him than I had on my own. Tears gathered in my eyes, but I struggled to control them. The last thing these men needed was a weeping damsel in distress.

Garrett kicked the stairwell door open and peered around the edge to the stairs below. Gunshots immediately rang out, sparking as they bounced off the concrete. Ezekiel pressed a shoulder against the threshold and did his best to shoot downward.

“Shitload of men, sir,” Garrett grunted, pulling back when the shooting grew too intense. “Not sure how we’ll get through.”

Ezekiel grunted, throwing down his now empty gun and grabbing another that was shoved into his belt. He must have stolen the weapons from the dead men.

“There are two stairwells,” Bruce muttered. “Should we try the other?”

“If it’s not on fire,” Roger replied.

“Someone find a fire hydrant.” Ezekiel went back into the smoke-filled corridor. “Garrett, you stay here and make sure no one comes through. Bruce, you help him. Roger, come with me.”