She tipped her head back and blinked hard, as if to fight off the tears. “I just can’t understand it. God, he must have been so afraid. And in so much pain.” A breath shuddered out of her, and she met Knox’s gaze again. “The things I told you the killer did to him … they did it before they killed him. Who would do something like that? Who could do such despicable things? And why Dale?”
“Your Prime has no suspects?”
She gave a sad shake of her head. “He had no enemies. No crazy exes. All I can think is that it was some sort of indirect attack on our Prime; a way to get at him. But why use Dale? He’s not a sentinel or even a member of our Force. He didn’t hold a position within the lair.”
Knox tilted his head. “Do you remember Harry Tomlinson? He was at Ramsbrook with us.”
Her brows flicked together. “Little Harry. Yes, I remember.”
“He was killed a few days ago. Killed in the exact same way as Dale.”
She stared at Knox, her face slack. “But that’s …Why? Why would someone do that?”
“That’s what we’re hoping to find out.” Knox leaned forward. “Was Dale in contact with Harry?”
She blinked. “No.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely. He would have told me.”
Knox twisted his mouth. “Somebody felt they both needed to die, and my only theory is that they were being silenced; that they both knew something they weren’t meant to know.”
Muriel shook her head again. “They weren’t in contact recently, Knox. I’d have known if they were.” Her eyes filled again. “I don’t know why someone would hurt them like that.”
“Neither do I.” Knox straightened in his seat. “But I’ll find out who did it.”
“And you’ll kill them?”
Jaw set, he gave a slow nod. “And I’ll kill them.”
*
Devon’s eyes briefly darted to the clock that hung on the wall of what she called “the piercings room.” It was almost closing time, which meant Jolene, Ciaran, and Tanner would be meeting her in the reception area soon.
The guy perched on the edge of the bed in front of her had walked in, all arrogance and boldness, as he declared what he wanted. The more she briefed him on the piercing, the less inclined the gargoyle seemed to be on having it done.
“There are many kinds of penis piercings,” she told him. “Some are more painful than others. Some enhance sexual stimulation while others can make certain sex positions uncomfortable.”
He swallowed. “How uncomfortable?”
“It differs from person to person. Some piercings heal in a short space of time, others take between four to six months to heal.”
His eyes went wide. “Six months?”
“Yes. During that period, you can’t have sex, masturbate, or engage in any other form of sexual stimulation.”
His mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding. I didn’t—”
The door opened, and Tanner poked his big fat head inside like he had every right. Oh, he could not be believed.
She gave him a sickly sweet smile. “Can I help you with something?”
His eyes sliced to the male on the bed and then back to her. “I need a word, kitten.”
“I’m busy here, as you can see.”
The gargoyle practically jumped off the bed. “It’s fine, I can come back later.” Going by the way he scampered out of the room, Devon figured it was unlikely he’d be back.
Tanner strode inside and picked up the leaflet the gargoyle had left on the bed. His gaze snapped to hers and darkened with something that made her pulse quicken. “You are not piercing that guy’s cock.” It wasn’t an angry statement. It was flat. Calm. Resolute. Left no room for argument.
Devon’s brow hiked up. “Excuse me?”
Tanner slowly prowled into her personal space, oozing menace even as he said softly, “You heard me just fine.”
“Oh, I heard you, I’m just struggling to understand why you’re spouting shit.”
He put his face closer to hers. “I don’t want you touching some stranger’s cock, no matter the reason.” The dark, velvety whisper slithered down her spine, leaving a pleasant tingle in its wake. It also pissed her off, because it fairly vibrated with possessiveness.
“You do realize I’ve done this type of piercing before, right? It’s sort of my job.”
A muscle in his cheek ticked. “It’s not a type you’ll be doing again.”
“Do I venture down to the strip club on Friday nights and tell you how to swing on your pole? No. So don’t tell me how to do my job.”
Tanner almost laughed. Only she could make him switch from angry to amused so fast. Only her. And fuck if she wasn’t cute when she jutted out her chin and gave him that princess to peasant look.
His hound technically should have bristled at her attitude—particularly since said attitude came from what it viewed as a lesser demon—but the hound found her ballsy defiance somewhat entertaining. Not a lot amused the demon.
Holding her gaze, Tanner gently shackled her wrists and circled her pulse points with his thumbs. “The only cock these hands should be touching is mine.” She didn’t lift her chin defiantly. Didn’t snap at him. Didn’t even appear to bristle. She just looked back at him, as if utterly bored. It was a look that said, “Not sure why we’re having this conversation because no amount of dictating to me will ever get you what you want.” Yeah, he was beginning to realize that.
Devon sucked in a breath as he placed the palm he’d marked right over his dick. It was hard and throbbing within the confines of his jeans. And as he curled her fingers around the shaft as best he could, she felt an answering tingle in her clit.
Devon didn’t blush or snatch her hand back. She looked him dead in the eye, because fuck if she’d let him ruffle her. “You don’t want to push me too hard, pooch,” she warned, loading the latter word with condescension. She squeezed his cock just shy of pain.
He grunted, and a small smile curled his lips. “You can make that up to me later. With your mouth.”
She pulled her hands free and planted them on her hips. “Keep dreaming, asshole. Now don’t we have somewhere we need to be?”
“Yes,” he said, taking her hand again. “We do.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tanner watched from the thick shadows of the parking lot as a lanky male stepped out of the veterinary clinic and locked the door behind him. The guy flicked up his collar, as if to protect his neck from the cool breeze, and then strode toward the parking lot.
Jolene’s voice flowed into Tanner’s mind. That’s Sheridan. I recognize him from his social media photos.
Yeah, Tanner had seen the same pictures—he’d looked the guy up too. Recognizing their target, his hound flexed its claws, raring to strike. Let’s move, Tanner said to Jolene. He positioned himself in front of Devon as they all headed toward the demon who was currently tossing a bag in the trunk of his car.
Jolene’s high heels click-clacked on the pavement. “Dr. Sheridan, isn’t it?”