Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,34

set this trap. That they were merely prey—buzzing gnats falling into the spider’s web. Even when she grinned, they didn’t seem to comprehend their precarious situation.

“I can do a great many wicked things with this mouth,” Quinn agreed. She took a step forward and moonlight bathed her face. “None of which you will find out tonight.”

The one on the right was the only one that had the decent sense to shudder at the playful excitement in her voice. The only one that had the presence of mind to take a step back.

“Grab her, Beck,” the hook-nosed bastard snapped through gritted teeth. “I wanna see what she’s hiding under that tunic of hers.” Beck moved and Quinn parried, swinging her elbow towards his face.

There was a crunch as cartilage cracked under the sharp pressure of her arm. Beck cried out, a hand going to his face. Blood poured between his fingers as he stumbled back. Quinn tsked at him with an irritated scowl. “Pathetic.” Moving forward, she knocked his hand aside and she went to punch him again, but he quickly backed up, nearly falling in his haste to avoid her blow.

Blood and snot dripped from the mushed pulp in the center of his face. Tears reflected the light of the moon as he let out a blubbered, “you bitch!”

Quinn paused, tapping a finger to the corner of her mouth, a cold, cruel look filling her gaze as she said, “I’m not the one that thought it would be a smart idea to corner a woman in an alley and try to rape her. You’re the one that started this, Becky.”

His eyes widened and he bellowed a roar of outrage before he ran at her. The rage consumed him, but that wasn’t all. Quinn could still sense the fear within him, just waiting for her to reach out and grab onto. Not yet, she decided, as she sidestepped his attempt and stuck her foot out in a quick movement. Whether or not he saw and tried to stop, it was too late. He barreled forward, his boot catching against hers as his anger dissipated for a fraction of a second—shock taking its place as he fell.

Thunk.

His head whipped back and came forward, colliding with the compact dirt. Beck moaned but didn’t move to get back up. Quinn turned and pointed her knife at the other two.

“Who’s next?” Her smile was all teeth.

Hook-nose stepped up just as the other stepped back. Quinn turned her sights on him and grinned.

“Lars, I don’t think we should do this,” the one on the right murmured. His fear was practically palpable. She inhaled it like a fresh breath of air.

“Stop being such a coward, Finn, and help me deal with her.” Lars came for her, unaware of the hulking shadow that appeared at the end of the alley. Sensing who it was, Quinn’s lips thinned and she bit the inside of her cheek.

She’d hoped to deal with this—have a little fun—without him ever the wiser. She had, in fact, hoped that he wouldn’t even have known she was gone. It appeared that neither of her hopes were going to be realized. As Lazarus stepped into the alley, a wave of icy anger from a wayward wind hit her face. His nearly midnight eyes were far darker than the vast expanse of the night sky, no stars to light the abyss that created them. There was a darkness there in his gaze, so primal and cruel that Quinn shuddered.

To say he was displeased was an understatement.

He stared at her over the hook-nosed bastard’s shoulder as fingers pressed into her arms and her back hit the hard brick of a wall. Quinn hissed as a hand closed around the wrist holding her knife and the other wrapped around her throat. Lazarus simply stood there and watched across the alley while the ash-haired man—Lars—tried to pry the knife from her numb fingers. His breath blew across her face as he spoke, but Quinn wasn’t listening. In fact, she wasn’t paying him any attention at all.

She stared at Lazarus, waiting, watching him just as he watched her. Both of them urging the other to move with nothing but their gaze. He shook his head once and Quinn sighed.

He had no intention of saving her. She had gotten herself in this and he was going to make her get herself out, and then ream her for it. She didn’t mind dealing with the rabble, but she didn’t want to if it