The Wolven (The Keepers Trilogy #3)

The Wolven (The Keepers Trilogy #3) Page 35

“Stop with your ’effin singing and just do it already!”

“You leave me alone!” Banjo said, his voice suddenly clear and his words sharp. “You understand? Leave me alone!”

“Screw you, you sonofabitchin’ half-breed. You wanna dick around with me? Fine, then consider your turn lost, asshole. Get the hell away from her. He’ll take his turn and yours, too.”

He? Someone else besides Banjo and the woman?

Shauna prayed for a miracle. If Banjo was that clear-headed now, maybe she could get through to him. Maybe he would hear her and realize what he was doing and who he was trying to do it to.

“Banjo, it’s Shauna! Don’t—help me get out of here!”

A dirty, oily smelling rag was suddenly shoved into her mouth. Shauna gagged against it. She shook her head frantically and pushed her tongue against the rag, trying to force it out of her mouth.

It was shoved in farther.

“I said back off her. You lost your turn!”

“And I said leave me the hell alone, bitch! It’s about damned time somebody started giving you orders, Kara Matiste!”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You just said my name! She’s not deaf, you dumb shit!”

“Whoa ho ho—scare now, are you?” Banjo’s piercing laughter was the one thing that didn’t change. His voice and words may have found a balanced cadence, but not the laughter. The change in Banjo’s diction reminded her of how Gris Gris had gone from his usual snooty repertoire to “home talk” in a matter of minutes.

And Kara—alpha of the West Bank—one of her weres had been a murder victim. Why was she here? How did she tie in to Banjo? And why was she encouraging him to do the unthinkable?

“You are going to do what I say, when I say it!” Kara yelled at Banjo.

Banjo pressed his body firmly against Shauna’s naked thighs, then began to hump them, the way he had dry-humped the stage in the strip club.

“Who’s got the power now, Missy Pissy Kara?” Banjo said. “You’re the one who’s the goddamn idiot. The biggest mistake you made was giving me a sample of that mojo. See what it did? Who’s in control now? Guess who’s got all the power now? Oh, and looky, looky who’s gonna get some of this sweet, sweet stuff.” Banjo wriggled against Shauna, and she feared she would vomit and wind up smothering in it.

“If you don’t shut the hell up, I swear I will take a tire iron and shove it clear up your ass, all the way up to your ugly, pointed head,” Kara screamed.

“Yeah? Then whatchu gonna do? Who ya gonna get to lure your little weres to a special place so that fat freak over there can do his hoodoo? Who ya gonna get to bait ’em, if I ain’t around, huh? Ain’t nobody else gonna do your dirty work for a little Lacodah and a piece of ass. They gonna want cold cash, baby. Something you and that fat snake freak ain’t never gonna wanna part with. Noo, you gotta save up that blood money for new digs, like you had when old Carl was around, ain’t that right? Tell me, whatchu gonna do, Kara Matiste, when everybody finds out you two been killin’ off weres? How you gonna explain that, Miss Badass? Killin’ ’em off for the power trip, ’cause only the strong survive, right? Power, man—it’s the power trip rush. It’s the money rush. You stuck in it, tangled all up in its web. You’re one sick bitch.”

A monstrous growl echoed through the building.

“You’d better get your head out of your ass and remember who’s still in charge of this operation,” Kara said.

Shauna couldn’t believe what she was hearing. If what Banjo was saying was true, Kara had genocide planned for her own species! And all for money? How was it possible for anyone to do such a horrible thing to their own kind?

Banjo began to sing a crippling tune…“Money-money-money, yeah! You don’t have me to use as bait, and you not gonna be rolling in the dough no more, baby. Stashin’ all that blood cash away.” Banjo tsked. “Uh-uh, no more, no more Lacodah to sell, not without old Banjo.”

Another growl, this one so loud and menacing it hurt Shauna’s ears and seemed to make the building vibrate. Then she heard a loud thump, then…silence.

And then came the horrid, twittering laugher—that wretched shriek of a laugh told her that Banjo was about to take possession of his final payment for being such a good and helpful boy.

Shauna tried to scream, but the rag muffled it to a mumble. She shoved her tongue against the nasty piece of cloth again and again, but was only able to move it a fraction of an inch. She had to stop him somehow. Call out his name again—hope he’d hear her, really hear her. Her brain had trouble processing all that was going on. This was the same guy who came into the shop regularly, the one Fiona fed, and now he was trying to rape her? How could he allow himself to do this? Why? What made his jitter talk change? Did he have a split personality? Was it that Lacodah? Or was it the same quirky, unknown thing that made Banjo so different from every other vamp?

It was evident by Banjo’s frantic movements, that he wasn’t up for hearing another word from anyone. He was in another world, and right now he was working his way toward the next one. The one right between Shauna’s legs. Her tears refused to be held back any longer. They streamed down her cheeks, made her nose clog up.

Shauna no longer heard Kara and feared she had been left alone with Banjo, who seemed to have gone completely mad. Had he gone mad? Or was this who he really was? Shawna felt like she had been thrown into another dimension without warning, without any knowledge of how to survive in it, or the tools to even try. She was at its mercy.

She had never known this level of vulnerability before. Hopeless, helpless, useless.

Banjo grunted behind her, and Shauna squeezed her eyes shut, saying a silent prayer to the universe, begging for this not to happen. It couldn’t happen.

She shoved against the dirty rag in her mouth with her tongue, once again trying to push it out. This time her efforts were rewarded with a little more movement.

Then to Shauna’s horror, she felt skin against skin. Banjo had taken his clothes off. He was obviously finished playing games and intended to take care of business now.

“Hey, shit for brains!” It was Kara again.

Shauna shifted her head slowly, as inconspicuously as possible. She wanted to get a look at the woman. Maybe, just maybe if she could lock eyes with her, Kara might see reason—a woman-to-woman thing. But all she saw were the lights.

At least Kara’s voice had stopped Banjo from rubbing his naked skin against hers…for now.

“You see this, you little turd?”

And suddenly from the center of the spotlights, Shauna saw a woman with tar-black hair approaching the makeshift table. It was Kara Matiste.

“Do you see this?” Kara waggled what looked like a two-inch long, glass test tube with a cork in it. “What do you think you’re going to do, Mr. Brilliant, when you fall off the high you’re on? You’ll shrivel, that’s what. What are you going to do then? You think I can’t get another asshole like you to play bait? You forget; you need us a lot more than we need you. There is a lot that goes on behind the scenes in this operation, and you know it. Without me, you don’t get to the big man. So here’s the deal—you’ve got about thirty minutes left on your high horse, then it’s going to buck you off. Are you going to play ballsy or are you going to keep acting like an ass?”

A long pause, then that wretched, twittering laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I—I know how we roll,” Banjo said. He was jitter talking again, which meant anything—and everything—could happen now.

With her fear spiking off the charts, Shauna wiggled and twisted, struggling to get away. She knew even if she were able to get Banjo to hear her now, there was no way he or Kara was going to let her go. She had heard too much. That left only one option on this table—she was going to be raped—and die.

“That’s right, little man, I know you do,” Kara said. “See this vial? Everything that’s in it will belong to you, I promise—but first you’ve got to tell me who’s the boss around here.”

“You—You—You the boss!”

“That’s right, and what are you gonna do?”

“What—whatever Kara say. That’s—what we gonna do. Gotta get me some—get me some of that…” Banjo grunted loudly, and Shauna felt him pushing against her again.

More flesh against flesh now, and his hands were trying to spread her open.

Shauna’s tears came in a flood. She could barely breathe. It didn’t matter to her anymore if they saw her move and slammed her head against the table. They could cut it off as far as she was concerned. But there was no way she was going down this hellhole without fighting to her last breath.

She opened her mouth as wide as she could, shoved hard with her tongue, rubbed her mouth against the rough plywood, hoping some little splinter of wood would grab on to threads in the rag.

“No need for you to get in a hurry now,” Kara said to Banjo. “Remember, we have an audience. That was part of the deal.”

Then, as though rising from some black hole, Gris Gris suddenly appeared. Shauna saw him clearly, saw how excited he was to be a spectator at this event. Simone, who was draped about his neck as usual, seemed to be exceptionally calm. Kara appeared alongside Gris Gris and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, does he plan on getting on with this or should I make reservations for a future matinee?” Gris Gris asked.

“Drop the big talk,” Kara said. “There’s no one here you need to impress. He’ll be done with her soon enough, and you’ll have your turn.”

Then Kara walked up to the table, leaned over, and looked Shauna right in the eye. “Poor, weepy baby. You see what you get for sticking your nose in other people’s business? You should have left it alone.”

Shauna looked deep into the woman’s eyes, hoping she could hear the question rolling over and over in her head. “Why—why?”