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CHAPTER 12
“I take it things did not go well,” Victor said, seeing our faces as he was ushered into the back of the pickup truck with us.
“It was goin’ just fine until these dicks picked us up again.” Zee tutted at our escorts, the driver and his literal shotgun partner. “Although I gotta say, Sexy McSpicy Fangs, seeing your ass in those fine threads again almost makes up for it.”
“Thank you. I think.” Victor settled into the seat to my right while Zee admired him from my left. As usual, I was in the middle. Victor tugged at his cuffs. “It does feel nice being back in quality clothing once more. Especially as an alligator ate much of my previous suit.”
We’d been gone most of the day, so by the time we’d made it back to the apartment building to collect Victor, the sun was well on its way to setting behind the high-rises. Miami was even more glamorous and sparkly at night.
“Gorgeous,” Zee said, probably gazing out the window.
I tore my gaze from the sprawl of colored lights and found him watching me. A soft smile tugged at his lips, and my glance flicked to Victor who I also found to be looking at me. And smiling. Oh, okay. Zee meant me?
You’d think by now I’d be used to praise, but the dual weight of their admiring gazes had me squirming. When you come from a world in which your family will stop at nothing to kill you, it’s tough learning to bask in positive energy. Maybe one day I’d just accept that I deserved good things too . . . like their love.
It wasn’t long before we passed through a set of tall metal gates and stopped outside a guard booth. Kat hadn’t been wrong about the enormous gun. There it was, slung from the ceiling inside the booth. I’d never seen a gun that big. The big hunk of metal was probably as long as Zee was tall.
What the heck was it designed to stop?
“Someone is compensating for summink, just sayin’ . . .” Zee remarked, with a side-eye that meant we all knew what that thing was the drug lord might be compensating for.
“Compensating for what?” Victor asked, leaning back in the truck’s seat.
“Huh?” Zee asked.
The guard peered inside the truck, saw the two trolls up front, and waved us through a second gate. Cameras recorded our passing from high up on the fence posts.
“What is the mini-cannon compensating for?” Victor asked again.
Zee frowned. “Are you joking right now?”
“No. I do not believe so.”
“How do you not know this?” Zee gestured toward his own crotch. “Compensating for a lack of firepower elsewhere, yah know?”
“Oh.” Victor lifted his chin. “I see.”
Shotgun Troll twisted in the passenger seat and glared at Zee. “You sayin’ the boss has a small dick?”
Zee raised his hands. “Woah, does he know you talk about him like that?”
“You said it, demon.”
“I was just admiring the big gun. Looks like you got dicks on the brain. Some might say, therefore, you are a dickhead.”
Oh dear, was this some clever ploy to antagonize Shotgun Troll, or was Zee oblivious to how he’d offended his masculine energy?
“You guys are small, so you probably need to compensate, is all I was sayin’.”
“You sayin’ we all got small dicks?”
Zee spluttered a laugh. “What? Moi? Would I say something like that? I’m sure you’re perfectly proportioned.”
I caught Victor’s less than subtle eyeroll.
It seemed Zee was just antagonizing Shotgun Troll because he could, or because he was bored.
“And I suppose your dick is huge?” the troll snarled.
