Page 22

CHAPTER 22

I t was well after midnight when the rain finally stopped, and the patrons began filtering out into the streets of Jeriko and the warm, acid-laced steam that hung in the air, scorching eyes and sinuses and lungs.

Rain, Tulliver mused.

Rain was always good for business.

Of all the clubs Tulliver owned, The Spiderhole was his favorite.

That was due, in large part, to the brothel he operated out of the upper floors of the building.

The whores there were fresher, not yet run down by the cocktail of drugs required to keep them willing and compliant.

After that happened, they would be sent to one of Tulliver’s other, less reputable establishments, but that was okay.

There was always fresh meat to take their place.

Always.

Tulliver sat at the bar and watched with his one good eye as the customers gradually trickled out into the night.

He wasn’t sad to see them go.

He’d already made a killing since the crowd had come in that afternoon to get out of the weather.

Yes, rain was always good for business.

Tulliver signaled for another dram, and the barman quickly brought him one.

Not the pisswater that was served to the paying customers.

A man could go blind drinking that swill, and Tulliver was already halfway there.

He only drank the expensive offworld stuff.

“Do you mind if I join you for a drink, sir?”

The unexpected voice startled Tulliver, and he jumped a little in response.

Whoever had spoken was standing in his blind spot.

The one created by his bad eye.

His startlement quickly shifted into anger.

Everyone in town knew better than to approach Tulliver from his blind side—and if they didn’t, they soon learned.

He whirled in the direction of the voice.

“What the fuck do y—”

Tulliver froze.

His heart stopped. The man standing before him was tall, maybe seven feet or more, with a mane of golden hair spilling down to his broad, muscular shoulders.

But it was the face that really got Tulliver’s attention.

It was the face of an angel.

High cheekbones. Patrician nose.

Full, feminine lips.

It was, in short, the most beautiful face Tulliver had ever seen, and it came with a voice to match, as smooth and sweet as offworld honey.

“My apologies,” the stranger said.

“It was not my intention to startle you. I merely saw you sitting over here by yourself and thought you might enjoy some company.”

The full lips parted seductively, a subtle invitation.

Tulliver smiled. He was no buggerer—or buggeree, for that matter—but he had a use for handsome men.

They were almost in as high demand as pretty girls, and a great deal harder to come by.

“Have a seat,” Tulliver said, gesturing to the barstool beside him.

“You must be new around here, huh?”

The beautiful man sat.

“What makes you say that, sir?”

“Well, everyone around these parts knows who I am, but I get the impression you don’t.”

“I confess, you are correct, sir.” The man arched a flirtatious, golden brow.

“With whom do I have the pleasure?”

With whom do I have the pleasure .

Shit, who did this jinker think he was, some highborn aristocrat?

“Name’s Tulliver,” Tulliver said.

The long-lashed eyes widened, pale and pretty.

“ The Tulliver?”

“The one and only.”

The supple lips broke into a wide and radiant grin.

“My sincerest apologies, sir! I am indeed new here in town, and did not recognize you, but I have certainly heard a great deal. Please, sir, allow me to buy you a drink.”

Tulliver just chuckled and waved his hand.

“No need for that,” he said.

“I own the place. Let me get you a drink instead, on the house. What d’you want?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having, sir.”

Tulliver motioned to the barman to bring him another dram.

This time, however, he used his pinky finger.

It was a signal, and the barman nodded in understanding.

He would drug the cocktail.

In a few minutes, the big handsome stranger would be unconscious and totally helpless.

It was one of Tulliver’s favorite methods for acquiring new prostitutes.

He was going to make a small fortune off this strapping young stud.

The drink came. The stranger took a sip and smiled.

“Delicious,” he said.

Tulliver stood. “Drink up. I’ve gotta go take a piss, but I’ll be back in a minute. Then we can chat more, okay?”

“I shall look forward to it,” the man said, taking another sip.

Tulliver turned and walked toward the corridor at the back of the barroom, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

By the time he was done draining his bladder, the handsome stranger would be passed the fuck out, and Tulliver would have his doormen carry the big bastard upstairs to bind and gag him.

From there, it would only be a matter of giving the man a few narc injections to get him hooked and dependent.

After that, the man’s ass would be a money-making machine.

But as Tulliver pushed open the door to the bathroom, the smile slid from his face.

What the hell was that stink?

It didn’t take him long to find the source.

As he started to step inside, Tulliver saw that the toilet had overflowed, and now the entire floor was covered in a foul puddle of piss and shit.

Tulliver wrinkled his nose in disgust and annoyance.

They’d had plumbing problems before, but never like this .

He’d have to put someone on cleanup duty.

Not the barman or doormen.

They would be occupied with the handsome stranger.

Maybe the bar back could handle it.

Or even a couple of the girls upstairs.

First, however, he needed to attend to his bladder.

Outside. Alley.

Tulliver walked stiffly down the remainder of the corridor, pushed open the door at the end, and stepped out into the back alley behind The Spiderhole.

The acid-fog stung his good eye, but his other eye didn’t feel anything at all.

It was a mere replica, fashioned from plasteen, to replace the living eye he’d lost years before.

It was a kid that had done it to him.

A girl. Stuck him with a knife because he’d tried to give her a little loving.

Not a day went by that Tulliver didn’t think about that little bitch.

She must be a grown woman by now.

What was her name again?

Rita? Rhoda? Something like that.

Man, the things he would do to that bitch if he ever got his hands on her.

At the moment, however, the only thing Tulliver was worried about getting his hands on was his dick.

He took a few steps into the alleyway, then turned to face the brick wall.

It was dark, and for a moment, Tulliver experienced a childish sense of fear.

It was probably unwise for him to be outside by himself like this.

In spite of his status in Jeriko, he was not without enemies.

Why, earlier that very day, one of his men had been found in a different alley with his head bashed in.

What was Tulliver going to do, though?

Bring his bodyguards outside to watch him piss like some little kid?

Hell. Besides, he was already out here, and if he didn’t go now, he was liable to piss his damn pants.

Tulliver unzipped his fly, whipped out his dick, and began to urinate against the wall in front of him.

The feeling of relief was almost orgasmic, and he sighed with satisfaction.

“ Ahhh… ”

The blade was so sharp, Tulliver didn’t even feel it cut him.

What he felt instead was a sudden sensation of warmth washing down his thighs, as if someone had poured a hot drink onto his lap.

For a moment, he thought he had somehow pissed himself, and he wondered how that could even be possible.

Then he realized what had actually happened, and he started to scream.

Or rather, he tried to scream, but something was wrong with his voice.

All that came out was a quiet wheezing sound, and it didn’t come from his mouth, but from lower down, from his throat.

More wetness was pouring down the front of his shirt.

A lot of it. He suddenly felt very sleepy.

The last thing Tulliver heard before the lights went out was a voice whispering in his ear, deep and smooth and honey-sweet.

The voice of an angel. “Rona says hello.”