Violent Angel (Pretty Broken Things #1)

3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

O ff the platform and surrounded by bodies stinking of body odor masked by too much, Elliot let himself go numb. He always hated this part of the mission—the waiting part, when he pretended to have no control.

But his training taught him how to always be in control. How to use everything his target revealed to him in moments like this against them.

Some took longer to let their guards down, but these fools were too easy.

The second he was in arm’s reach, all three men practically salivated, groping and licking every inch of flesh as they stripped him down. The cool metal of one’s glasses bumped his bare stomach, followed by a sloppy sucking. Jagged, chewed down nails scratched the curve of his ass. And standing behind him, the guy with the big ears and freakishly long fingers panted in his ear like he’d already shot a load in his ugly brown tweed trousers.

This buying time thing until Gerard got the marks exactly where he wanted them was fucking boring. The intel must’ve been wrong, because at least one should’ve been tempted by either him or Lux.

Instead, Lux was with a third gen mobster…

While I’m stuck with the tech bro trio.

This isn’t even a challenge.

Usually, his assignments were solo missions against marks he actually had to seduce. That part was his favorite, like playing poker against an adversary who didn’t even know they’d sat down at his table. He didn’t get to kill every one—which kinda sucked—but he could fuck with them as much as he wanted.

Nothing was more fun than watching a powerful man question everything he believed about himself because Elliot got him hard. Got him desperate to find some privacy where he could indulge in what he considered the most depraved acts.

Some of the rich fucks who ran sex trafficking rings, or forums for pedos, were extremely conservative and went to church every Sunday. Eating their own wife’s pussy was too dirty for them. They convinced themselves accumulating wealth, by any means necessary, was all that mattered. That they were above such baser human needs.

He always wondered if the priest they confessed to jerked off while listening to them talk about coming all over his naked body.

Probably.

“Very nice.” A deep voice cut over the groans of the tech bros, stopping their fondling as each one abruptly stepped back, revealing the high profile mark Gerard had been waiting for, Julien Saint Claude. Tall and lean, with slicked back silver hair and agelines accentuating his sharp features, the man fit in effortlessly with the wealthy crime bosses present, but his power was rooted somewhere far more dangerous.

Politics.

Next in line as governor for Nevada, Saint Claude had used his connections for the past forty years to keep the sex trafficking business thriving on the West Coast. If he was voted in—which seemed likely—Gerard would lose all the progress he’d made breaking down the organization from the inside out.

Which meant his handler was very very motivated to see this man dead tonight.

Scanning the dark shadows beyond the circle of red leather sofas, Elliot spotted Gerard near the front of the lounge, positioned directly across from Virgil at the back. Lux was straddling the mobster on the far left, and with Elliot on the right, they had the entire room covered.

But when he met Gerard’s eyes, expecting the signal to attack, his handler gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Not yet.

Tapping the side of Elliot’s chin, Saint Claude reclaimed his attention, making a quiet tsk sound, as though scolding a child. “Don’t look at anyone else, you belong to me tonight, mon ange.”

Elliot’s lips parted, but when he tried to look at the tec bros, his jaw was framed by Saint Claude’s big hand and held tight. “But I thought they—”

“I have amassed a great amount of wealth and power by never letting my intentions be known. If I’d bid on you myself, your price would have been much higher.” Saint Claude chuckled, stroking his skin with a barely there touch. “I was also curious to see how you’d react to them, if that bravado would crumble once you were surrounded. But they had very little impact on you at all.”

Stuck staring up at Saint Claude, Elliot struggled to maintain the image of a slave with a bit of spunk. Questions ran rampant in his overactive brain, and his muscles twitched with the need to move, to do something .

Stalling Saint Claude for whatever had caused the delay would take more than what Virgil called his ‘Sharp wit’ and Gerard pegged his ‘cocky attitude’. Neither would make any sense in this situation.

But his tried and true helpless act was slipping through his fingers like fistfuls of sand. “None of them are half the man my master is. I thought them winning me was a joke.”

“Ah, yes, I can see that. Gorgeous thing like you shouldn’t be handed off to pathetic underlings.” Saint Claude’s lips twitched with amusement. “But maybe my men just need a little help. You don’t seem unaffected by me.”

Before Elliot got a chance to come up with a reply, Saint Claude shackled his wrist and yanked him over the arm of the nearest sofa. His hand pressed down on the back of Elliot’s neck, pinning him in place.

“Whatever you might think of them, my employees are loyal and deserve to be rewarded now and then. You’re their bonus for a job well done.” Leaning down, Saint Claude spoke for his ears alone. “I know exactly who you are, Elliot.”

Blood running cold, Elliot twisted to get his hair out of his face and tried his best not to panic. Fake loss of control, he could deal with, but this? This was too real. He didn’t know what his next move should be, didn’t have any way to manipulate Saint Claude, and Gerard was out of sight.

Alone, Elliot could make the decision to call a mission a bust if he’d been compromised, but with Lux here, he couldn’t risk Saint Claude alerting the other buyers.

Gritty pressure stole the air from his lungs, stretching him open as one of the tech bros rocked against his ass. His legs were spread apart by boney knees, sweaty palms the only thing slicking him up at all, and pretty useless on his ass cheeks.

Fucked up as it was, the pain from the shallow penetration centered him, clearing his mind before the disgusting, grunting tech bro could get any deeper. Fist clenched against the sofa cushion, he arched his spine, lifting his hips and grinding back.

Cursing, the man on top of him trembled, his cum spilling hot over Elliot’s hole.

Another man took his place, the cum acting like lube so he could thrust in almost halfway. His dick was thicker, burning a jerky path inside.

“Hold him.” Saint Claude spoke to the last man, stepping back as weaker hands took the place of his firm ones. The sound of his sharp footsteps faded.

Followed by shouts.

And gunfire.

Guess that’s my signal.

Bucking back, teeth jamming together against the pain, Elliot knocked the man fucking him off his feet. Freed from the weight of his body and the restraining grip, he grabbed a bottle of champagne from the end table, breaking it in half on the edge.

Then he got a good grip on the dick that had just been inside him. And stabbed the glass right through the center of the hard length.

Hot spurts of blood gave him a rush as he twisted the bottle, cutting the screaming tech bro’s cock right off. A feral grin sliced across his lips as he turned to the next one, the man stumbling back, gaping at him like he’d sprouted horns and fangs.

As if I’d need them.

Laughing, he lunged and drove the second tech bro to the ground. Stabbed the bottle into his neck and his face until he stopped moving.

The last tech bro almost reached the door, but got stuck in the panicked rush of the buyers and their guests. Bouncers and bodyguards scrambled to regain control of the situation and protect their charges, none of them focused on him, naked and covered in blood.

Pouncing on the closest bouncer, Elliot sliced his wrist with the bottle and palmed his gun before it could hit the floor. One shot dropped him, the next pitching the last tech bro into the crowd, his brains bursting out of his skull over several shocked faces.

“Elliot, Lux, fucking kill them all!” Gerard roared over the noise, sounding pissed off. “Make it quick, then clear out. This mission’s fucked.”

Naked and sore in all the wrong places, Elliot perked up at the command—the best thing he’d heard all fucking night. Sure, taking out the marks would’ve been great, but he wouldn’t let that bring him down.

It’s playtime!

Leaping up on the arm of a sofa, he blasted a hole in another bouncer’s neck, relieving him of a few guns to really get the party started. Gerard must’ve locked the front door—or killed whoever had been there to open it again—because most of the buyers were still crammed around it, banging and shouting, looking like rats failing to escape a burning building.

Once Elliot used up all the bullets, he went back to his clothes for his knives, needing to make the next few kills up close and personal. He glanced over to where he’d last seen Lux, expecting to find his little brother smiling back at him with pure, wild joy.

But Lux was kneeling on the ground, sobbing and shaking the still body in front of him.

“Lux?” Ducking to avoid shots coming from the bouncers who weren’t dead yet, Elliot skidded to Lux’s side on his bare knees. He dropped his knives and grabbed Lux’s shoulders, searching his blood smeared body for injuries. “Did you catch a bullet, baby bro? Show me, I’ll—”

“Not me.” Lux’s bottom lip trembled as he jutted his chin toward the body. “Him. He saved me. He can’t die, Elli. Please…please don’t let him die.”

Nodding sharply, Elliot turned his attention to the man on the floor. Blinked as he took in the familiar face. The man from the bathroom, Damon, with a ripped strip of towel wrapped around the hand Elliot had stabbed with the pencil.

His gun was still tucked in its holster at his side—probably because he couldn’t shoot with a fucked up hand. But if he’d been able to, according to Lux, it would’ve been to defend him.

Rolling Damon onto his back, Elliot glared down at his motionless features. “You don’t get to prove me wrong about you, then die, asshole. Hang in there—you did something good. I’ve gotta return the favor, you hear me? If you don’t let me I’ll…I’ll kick your rotting corpse until it looks like ground beef.”

Lux wrinkled his nose and poked Elliot in the ribs. “How does that help?”

“I don’t know.” Elliot brushed his fingers over Damon’s cheek, his prickly scruff even darker against his pale skin. “I was hoping he’d open his eyes and talk shit back to me. Call the guys, tell them to prep my place and bring a doctor. However many blood credits it’ll cost, I’ll pay it.”

A sweet smile lit up Lux’s face. “He’s gonna live?”

Elliot gave his little brother a sharp nod. “He’d better.”

The screaming died down, the room going silent after a few more shots. Heavy footsteps approached, Gerard and Virgil, both casting shadows over Elliot and Lux as they hunched over Damon’s body.

“He’s still breathing?” Gerard let out a heavy sigh and nudged Elliot with his knee. “What about ‘kill them all’ wasn’t clear? The Feds will be here any second.”

Shoving to his feet, Elliot knocked Gerard’s gun upward before he could put a bullet in Damon’s head, baring his teeth when his handler tried to shove him out of the way. “You deal with the Feds. I’m keeping him.”

“Like fuck you are.”

“Okay, okay, both of you, relax.” Virgil worked his big body between them. “Distract the Fed with the slaves we saved, love. I’ll get the boys and their new friend out of here.”

Gerard threw his hands up in the air, pacing away, then back. “This shit isn’t free, Virg. If the little shits need ‘a friend’ that bad, get them a fucking puppy. It’ll cost less than patching up this fucker, who might need to die anyway when we find out who the fuck he is.”

“His name is Damon.” Elliot gave Gerard a level look. “He just saved Lux’s life. That’s all we need to know.”

“And who’s going to pay to take care of him?”

“I will.” Elliot looked between Virgil and Gerard, knowing he’d need them both to sign on, because he didn’t have anywhere near the blood credits to cover what he was asking for. “I’ll move back into The Inn so you know he’s secured. I’ll take whatever missions you give me. I never ask you for shit, but you have to give me this.” Lux squeezed his hand and he took a deep breath. “Please.”

Virgil smiled warmly, bending down to lift Damon into his arms. Damon wasn’t exactly small, but with the strength in Virgil’s big body, he might as well have been lifting Lux. “That settles it. The boy could use something to do other than find more things to kill, babe. And this means he’ll be coming home.”

Lips thin, expression hard, Gerard studied Elliot’s face for a few beats. Then he met Virgil’s eyes and blew out a breath. “Fine. Set it up while I deal with this mess.” He turned as a loud Bang! shook the heavy doors to the lounge. “I better not fucking regret this.” His gaze snapped back to Elliot as he shrugged off his suit jacket. “Put this on and get your boxers and your boots. It’s gonna be a long, uncomfortable flight and I’m not dealing with you getting sick.”

Grinning his thanks instead of using the words—which Gerard would ignore anyway—Elliot quickly pulled on the jacket and ran to get his only clothes not soaked in blood. His boxers and his socks, tucked safely into his studded leather boots.

There was no time to wash off all the blood, but Virgil had a vehicle waiting in the back, so it didn’t really matter. Racing to catch up to him and Lux, Elliot slid into the back of the black SUV, claiming the spot next to Damon’s still body.

On the phone in the seat behind him, Lux spoke softly, letting whoever was on the other end of the line do most of the talking. “Yes, Elli’s bringing him home. And we’re staying.”

Elliot’s lips twitched. “Is that Hart? Tell him we’ll have milkshakes with him tomorrow if he fixes my room how I like it.”

“Did you hear that?” Lux’s tone was full of wonder, like he’d just been offered tickets to Disneyland. “Uh huh, that was really him. No, I don’t think he’s high…”

“I’m not.” Elliot twisted in his seat to meet his brother’s eyes. “Right now, with how happy you sound, I’d do just about anything. I’m sorry for keeping you away for so long.”

Lux lowered his gaze and lifted his shoulders. “It’s okay.”

It really wasn’t, but arguing with Lux felt like kicking a skinny, love-starved puppy, so he kept his mouth shut. Aside from training, Elliot had been keeping Lux away from their crew as much as he could, spending extra blood credits to get them a small apartment a few blocks away from The Inn.

He’d figured allowing him to train at all, along with making ‘normal’ friends while he went to night courses to get his GED would be enough, but if he was real with himself? He knew it’d just fucked up most of the progress Lux had made over the years.

For better or for worse, Eros’ Eight was the closest thing to family either of them would ever have.

Whether Damon lived or died—he fucking better not—because of him, the two most important things had happened today.

Lux had survived a FUBAR mission.

And we’re both going back where we belong.