Dark Obsession (Vampire Royals of New York #3) - Sarah Piper Page 0,8
I’m not the sit-home-with-my-thumb-up-my-ass type.”
“No, I suppose you ain’t.” Cole bit back a laugh, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “Bet Red never saw you comin’, did he?”
“To be fair, I didn’t see him coming either.” Charley smiled, but despite their kindness and willingness to help, she couldn’t hold it. “Anyway, with Rudy’s big demon reveal last night, and his connection to that Silas vampire, I’m more convinced than ever Estas has something on him. Maybe even something that can help us find Sasha.”
“All roads lead back to the same scheming demons and traitor vamps,” Cole said.
“And they all want me and Dorian dead.” Charley lifted the mug to her lips, but it was empty. “Awesome.”
“On the bright side,” Aiden said cheerfully, “some couples have nothing in common. More tea?”
Charley passed over her mug.
“We need time to set up another buy,” Cole said. “I came through with the cash last night—Estas trusts me now. So I’ll lure him out for another sale, dick him around at the meeting, and give you and Red time to snoop.”
“Perfect,” Charley said. “When can you set it up?”
“We need to wait for Red. He’s the bankroll here.”
“Not to mention he’d bloody well beat Cole’s ass if we went behind his back on this,” Aiden said.
Cole laughed. “He’d try, anyway.”
“Where exactly did you say Dorian went today?” Charley asked.
“Not to worry.” Aiden forced a smile, then headed to the stove to put the kettle on for Charley’s tea. “He’ll be back soon enough. He’s just… cooking up a little something in Queens.”
Chapter Four
“Ah, there’s nothing quite like the smell of fire-roasted demon.” Gabriel took a deep breath and grinned. “Reminds me of that time in Paris. Do you remember, brother?”
“Summer, 1941?” Dorian laughed, adjusting the flame on the blowtorch to its highest level. “Goodness, I haven’t thought of that trip in an age.”
“Father always said French demons burned the hottest.”
“And we certainly proved that, didn’t we?”
“Several times, as I recall.”
“Are you two fucking crazy?” The roasted demon in question—a vile, sniveling knob called Jordan, according to the embroidered patch on his mechanic’s uniform—squirmed in his chair. He was already nursing third-degree burns on both arms, and blood leaked from a gash on his head, courtesy of his own tire iron.
To be fair, he’d swung first. And that was only after they’d walked in on him terrorizing a young woman in one of the auto detailing bays, his hellspawn brethren cheering him on from the sidelines.
If Dorian had any thought of going easy on the demons today, he’d lost it the moment he’d seen that sick little show.
Between Isabelle’s quick work with the binding magic and Gabriel’s quicker work with the tire iron, none of the assholes had a chance. After ensuring the woman wasn’t physically injured, Dorian compelled her to forget the demonic torment and escorted her outside to safety.
By the time he returned, Isabelle and Gabriel had everything under control.
Now, all five of the demons they’d found here were doubly bound—chained to metal chairs strategically positioned on top of devil’s trap sigils Isabelle had painted in vampire blood. The measures eliminated all possibility of escape—bodily or otherwise.
The chop shop itself was proving to be the perfect torture chamber—a mid-sized operation posing as a legitimate auto mechanic and detailing business chock full of power tools and sharp, heavy implements. Isabelle had spelled it to appear closed and gated from the outside, leaving them to do their business undisturbed.
It really had been a bloody brilliant idea.
“He’s definitely crazy,” Gabriel said to the demon now, arcing his thumb at Dorian. “Me? I’m just bored.” In a blur, he grabbed the blowtorch from Dorian’s hands and raked the flame across the demon’s thigh, cutting clear down to the bone.
The demon howled in agony, his screams echoing off the concrete floor.
Music to Dorian’s ears.
He no longer cared about Accords violations, or demonic retribution, or his own dubious moral compass. These bastards reported to Rogozin, which meant they were connected to Estas, who was connected to Rudy, who’d kidnapped the sister of the woman Dorian loved.
Furthermore, if Dorian followed the chain of command from Rogozin up through the levels of hell’s top management, he’d eventually reach the demon lords—one of whom was under the mistaken impression he had a claim on Charlotte’s life.
Dorian was more than eager to set that particular record straight. If he had to brutalize a few hellspawn minions in the process? Well. Who said mixing business with pleasure was a bad thing?