“Nik!” Cass struggled to break free of her captors but was towed toward the other seat and secured to it with rope like her sister. She was even treated to an identical strip of duct tape across her mouth.
While Cass and Nikki’s infuriated, muffled grumblings filled the silence, Sam locked stares with Pricilla. She eyed him for a long moment, the merest hint of wary confusion lurking in her gaze. And here he’d thought Nikki and Cass had been pros at making him feel like a bizarre bug under a microscope this morning. Their intent scrutiny was nothing compared to the one currently leveled on him.
Pricilla finally removed her stare from him and glanced at the goons pinning Sam’s arms behind his back. “Leave us.”
After an awkward hesitation, Pricilla’s henchmen shuffled from the room. Pricilla stepped forward and reached for something resting on the loveseat. Lucy. One of the goons must have grabbed her before coming into the parlor. Blood from the demon’s nose still smeared the metal and had consequently stained the loveseat’s cream silk cushion.
Pricilla seemed unconcerned with the fact as she weighed the hefty gun in her palm. Her focus tracked to him again. Although she kept her features carefully schooled, there was no denying the suspicious curiosity lingering in her emotionless eyes. “You were unable to fire this. Why?”
He shrugged. “It must have jammed.”
“Impossible.” Clutching Lucy in a white-knuckled hold, Pricilla stormed forward. “Take off your shirt.”
He grimaced. “Babe, you’re not my type.”
Her hot stare glinting with malice, she grasped his hair in her other fist and yanked hard. “Don’t make me call my men back in here.”
If it were just him, he’d tell Pricilla what she could do with her threat. But the damn bitch had already made it clear she was prepared to play dirty. He couldn’t risk Nikki and Cass taking a bullet for him. Growling, he bunched his T-shirt in his hands and tugged it over his head.
Pricilla stepped behind him. Unnerving silence hovering in the air, he met his cousins’ apprehensive gazes. He wished with his entire being that the brave idiots hadn’t gotten involved in this. He’d meant it when he told Pricilla he didn’t give two shits what she did to him. But so help him, if the bitch hurt Cass or Nikki, he’d make it his mission in life to kill Pricilla, no matter what it took.
The realization that he’d go to such lengths for anyone other than himself was an odd one. So much so, he nearly forgot Pricilla’s intense observation. But then she strode in front of him and tossed Lucy at his feet. The weapon spun and clacked on the parquet flooring before coasting to a halt next to his boot.
“How did you do it?”
He decided playing dumb might not be a bad idea. “Do what?”
“You damn well know what I’m talking about,” Pricilla snarled. “Your seal is gone.”
“What? You’re shitting me.” Feigning shock, he patted his pockets. “Wonder where the devil it could have gotten to?”
Pricilla’s lips pinched into a tight, thin line. “Destroying a soul-collector seal is physically impossible. I demand to know how you managed it.”
Apparently good ole Pris didn’t have the same sources as Cass. Making a concentrated effort not to look at his cousins, he offered Pricilla another evasive shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Pricilla’s squinty-eyed glare probed at him. No doubt the bitch wished she could mentally will the answers from him. Shooting him one last angry stare, she pivoted and strode to the end table, where she picked up a knife resting by the roll of duct tape. Testing the tip with her index finger, Pricilla strolled to Cass and wedged the blade against her slender throat. Although Cass’s gaze didn’t waver in its ferocity, her chin trembled. Sam’s heart missed a beat.
Pricilla trailed one blood-red nail down Cass’s cheek. “It’d be a shame to carve up such a pretty face.”
Weary resignation settled with grim finality in Sam’s chest. If there was one thing he could count on, it was how bad this would backfire on him if he revealed too much to Pricilla. Even if he did tell her the truth, there was no guarantee Pris wouldn’t plunge that knife into Cass merely out of spite.
He met the challenge in Pricilla’s stare. Despite her bravado, there was a trace of something else in her expression. A greedy hunger she couldn’t entirely contain. An ulterior motive drove her interest in his seal breaking. His instincts had never failed him in the past. They sure as shit weren’t now. Mulling over his suspicions, he quickly devised a plan. If he threw out the right bait, Pricilla was bound to take a nibble. Make it enticing enough, and he, Cass and Nikki might walk out of this room alive. The key lay in convincing Pris of his reluctance over releasing the information. If she thought she had to drag it out of him, she’d be a thousand times more likely to believe his story and ultimately be left dangling on the hook.
Mentally preparing his bait, he sucked in a deep breath and spit the words free. “There was a witch.”
An unmistakable flare of excitement danced across Pricilla’s face before she hastily banked it and assumed a cool mask of indifference. “Continue.”
“We met at a bar.” Again, it was better to play dumb and not reveal any clues pointing to the fact he’d planned the whole thing. “One thing led to another, and we had a one-night stand.”
“You slept with her, and it broke your seal?”
“Who knows?” He said it with just the right amount of casualness to keep Pricilla wondering.
The blade eased a fraction from Cass’s neck. “The name of this witch?”
“Can’t rightly recall. She was too busy screaming mine for me to pay much attention to hers.”
Annoyance flickered over Pricilla’s features. “Fine. The bar where you met her then?”
He waited several beats before letting the lie slip easily from his tongue. “Tatums.”
Pricilla lifted the knife from Cass’s throat and fingered the blade, considering. “Although I’m not at all pleased with these turn of events, I’ve decided to give you a second chance, Samael. It cost me a good deal in the way of bribes and money to acquire your contract. Much as it pains me not to kill you, finding some future purpose for you is more expedient.” She tapped her chin with the tip of the knife blade. “This of course means we’ll have to compromise on a different means of staying in contact. A tracking cuff should suffice.”
Bloody fuck. He wasn’t fooled for a second about the real reason she wanted to keep him under constant tabs. Even knowing this was his best shot at walking out of the room in one piece, agreeing to her demands went down like a bitter pill. He’d just have to deal with the damn cuff or find a way to disable the thing without Pricilla finding out.
“Very well,” he bit through clenched teeth. This time his reluctant acquiescence wasn’t merely for show.
Pricilla strode to the intercom affixed to the wall behind the end table and pressed the middle button. “Bring me one of the tracking cuffs from my office.”
For shit’s sake. How many damn people did she routinely keep an eye on that she required an entire stock of tracing gear in ready supply? Several seconds ticked by before the door opened and Pricilla’s goons trooped in. Sam received a death glare from the demon he’d opened a can of whoop ass on earlier. If he’d been in a better mood, he would have blown the dickhead a kiss. Instead, he got a pistol rammed against his skull by one thug while another locked the cuff onto his ankle. Meanwhile, the fourth goon crossed to where Pricilla was busy loosening the ropes binding Nikki’s arms and legs to the chair. Once freed, Nikki leapt to her feet and kneed the demon in the groin hard enough he yelped and grabbed his balls.