Behind me, Cari snickered.
Damnit! Had I just called him pretty? Grinding my teeth, I snatched the Desert Eagle from the floor, double checked the safety, then slipped it between the back of my waistband and my skin, where it left an uncomfortably large bulge. Then I started toward Murphy, Hagen’s gun still aimed and ready in my left hand. It was almost a relief when he started to turn, holding my gaze in a self-aware, half-amused stare until the last possible second.
My step faltered as his ass swiveled into sight, meticulously outlined by a snug pair of dark Levi’s. Didn’t this man have any flaws? Other than the fact that he’d barge in on me with his gun holstered?
Murphy pressed his palms flat against the concrete wall, and I searched him quickly but thoroughly, one side at a time, head to toe. I used one hand to pat him down, and the other to shove Hagen’s gun to his back. Unorthodox, but effective.
One minute later, I stepped back, convinced Murphy was armed with nothing more than an impressively well-toned physique. And that like his sister, he was almost certainly human.
The search hadn’t just been for hidden blades and guns. Or to verify that his stomach really was as hard as it looked—and it was. I was also taking advantage of the hands-on search to try and figure out what he was, in order to assess any possible intangible weapons I might be forced to defend against.
I came up empty. There was no tell-tale hum of power in the air around him, as there would have been if he were a magi. I felt the normal human warmth of skin through his clothing, but found no feverish heat, or suspicious flush, which a parasite would have had. And if he was a troll, he was the best-looking trollI’dever seen.
So, the real question was what a group of rent-a-goon goblins wanted with a human girl. Or rather, what theirbosswanted with her.
Confident that Murphy was relatively harmless, I turned to find Orthus dragging the third stooge toward the empty wooden chair, his muzzle still clamped around a generous chunk of goblin ass. I barely held back a smile. That was one smart dog.
Cari’s brother dropped his arms and turned to face the room. I motioned toward the dog with the gun in my grip. “If you really want to help, go tape that goblin to the chair.”
Murphy glared at me, the blue of his eyes churning like the depths of the ocean. “I’m here to help Cari. Not you.”
“Fine.” I shrugged and re-aimed the gun at Dirk, making a show of sighting down the barrel.
“No!” Cari shouted, and from the corner of my eye, I saw her hands fly to her mouth in horror. “Cale, don’t let her shoot him. They didn’t hurt me.”
Yet. Surely she knew that once she’d served whatever purpose they’d intended for her, the goblins would have eaten her alive. Literally.
Or maybe she didn’t. Most humans had no idea goblins existed, much less that they’d choose filet of young woman over filet mignon any time they thought they’d get away with it.
“Cale, please!” Cari begged, gliding toward us both over the concrete, her sneakers nearly silent.
Behind her, the goblin glowered at me, remaining stubbornly closed lipped. He was two feet from the wooden chair and two seconds from collision with a nine-millimeter slug, but he wouldn’t beg for his life. Goblins never did. To die fighting was honorable. To die begging was a disgrace they believed would follow them into the next life.
I happened to agree.
Murphy sighed, his expression shifting from annoyance to resignation. He clearly cared about more than just his sister’s physical wellbeing. He wanted to make her happy.
It was sweet—nauseatingly so.
The instant Murphy passed the first row of machines, the dog tensed, growling around the bit of goblin still in his mouth. His lips curled back from impossibly pointed teeth, and his eyes rolled all the way to the right as he watched the stranger’s approach.
Murphy glanced at me over his shoulder. “Call him off.”
“Can’t. He doesn’t take orders from me.”
“He kinda seems to…” Cari noted with a shrug.
Murphy frowned as he turned back to Orthus, ignoring Dirk’s stubbornly unrepentant expression. “That can’t taste good.” His voice was calm and soothing for the dog’s benefit. “I’m just going to tape him up, so you can get the flavor of goblin out of your mouth.”
Orthus growled again, and the sound seemed to resonate within my skull. Murphy turned back to me, holding out the roll of tape. “You try it.”
“Not a chance.” I wasn’t being paid enough to take away a hellhound’s chew-toy. “If you can’t get the goblin taped up, I’ll just shoot him.”
Cari propped her hands on narrow hips, eyeing the gun in my hand. “Is that your answer for everything?”
“It’s kind of a one-size-fits-all solution.” Which wasn’t true, of course, but admitting that I tried not to kill unless it was necessary would do nothing to enhance my reputation. Or even to preserve it. I inhaled slowly, trying to summon enough patience to explain the situation to her. “He’s a goblin. One bullet in the leg won’t kill him, but it’ll slow him down enough for us to get the hell out of here without worrying about him calling for backup.”
Cari shook her head resolutely, and I was impressed by her tenacity, if not the hill she’d chosen to die on. “Just tell Orthus to let him go, and Cale can tape him up. The dog will listen to you. He’s trying to help you.”
