Page 108 of Jester


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“No, Jester,” he counters with a laugh. “Just you.”

Aw, don’t I feel special.

“Yeah, well, good luck, my dude, because many have tried, and they all failed.”

“But I’m the one holding the ace card.” He uses the gun to tap Faith on the top of the head. Her whole body stiffens, and her flinch hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. And he’s right. He can do anything he wants to me as long as he has her.

“This isn’t about Mayhem, Daniel.” Her whisper cuts through the tension like a blade. “Why?”

“He hurt my son.”

“Daniel, listen to me.” Faith’s tone has a desperate edge, as if she can break through this crazy bastard’s madness. “Mike came to Mayhem looking for trouble. He’s the one who picked a fight with Jester. It wasn’t the other way around. If it had been anyone else, they would have sent Mike to the morgue instead of the hospital.”

“So that gave him the right to break my son’s jaw?” His shout echoes off the walls, but Davenport calms himself, and when he speaks again, he’s composed. Almost too calm. “But what’s done is done, and I’m sorry, Faith. I truly am. I never wanted to involve you in this ugly business. Isn’t that right, Abel? Didn’t I tell you and Rodney not to hurt her too badly?” He moves the gun slightly away from her, but not enough to give me the upper hand.

Every drop of my blood turns to fucking ice. “It was you who beat the shit out of her,” I say to the dead man behind me.

“Yeah, and what?” he says, snickering.

I shake my head. “Nothing right now.”

Because nothing he says matters. He’s on borrowed time.Tick-tock, bitch. I can almost count the number of breaths he has left.

“Fuck you and your apology,” she hisses.

He cups her chin and turns her head. Presses the gun to her cheek. Her terror flavors the air. But damn it all, if she doesn’t eyeball the prick as if he’s nothing but a speck of dirt beneath her feet. “You disappoint me, Faith.”

“Good.” She gathers a mouthful of spit and hocks it right in his face.

Davenport releases her chin and wipes the spittle from his cheek. With an icy grin, he nods to his henchman. “Shoot him.”

Faith’s scream causes chaos. She elbows Davenport and lunges for me, but her bound ankles trip her, and she crashes to the floor. The crack of gunfire follows. Something slams me forward and drops me to my knees. Wet, red, and sticky explodes across my right shoulder, deadening my arm. It seeps across my shirt, turning the dark gray material black.Fuuuck. The pistol stays gripped in my hand, but barely.

I lift an arm, which suddenly weighs a million pounds, prepared to shoot anyone who isn’t Faith. But another shot is fired. This one flies above me from the door. Disoriented from the noise, I swing around, and there’s Havoc. He rushes to Faith, and when I look to the left, I see that sonofabitch Abel bleeding beside me.

I push myself up, unsteady on my feet, and goddamn, my whole right arm is on fire. Not a problem. Not tonight, not when I have some motherfuckers to kill. I kick the Glock out of Abel’s reach when he gropes for the weapon. “Nah, don’t think so.”

“Do it,” he taunts.

Havoc shot him in the chest, but it wasn’t a fatal hit. Think I’ll hurry him along. I level the Desert Eagle at his face. “You picked the wrong woman to hurt.”

“Fuck you.”

I snort out a laugh. “You’re such a dick.”

A single shot destroys his skull. It deafens us for sure but also kills the motherfucker in a satisfying explosion of blood and brains.

Discord storms in, knife in one hand and Glock in the other. Behind him is… holy shit. Everyone. Like, half the Unholy are crammed in my hallway. With Crow leading the pack looking like he’s about ready to rip Davenport apart with his bare hands. Um, no. That’s not happening. He’s not taking my fun away.

“Just killed a big, bald bastard hiding in the bushes,” Discord announces. “I assume he’s a friend of yours?” He nods at Davenport.

“Yes,” he admits.

“Rodney?” I ask.

Davenport nods. I’m glad the man is dead. But also, damn, because I wanted to kill him myself.

I nail Crow with a glare and jab a thumb at Davenport. “Sorry, Prez, but after tonight, I gotta call dibs on this one.”