Livia Lone (Livia Lone #1)(97)

“Mouth,” he said. “Mouth. Like you did on boat. Like your sister did.”

Livia took him into her mouth. Deeply. As deeply as she could, the way she knew he liked.

He moaned. The dragon saw its chance. It spread its giant wings and filled its lungs with fire.

Skull Face grabbed the back of her head and thrust deeper, wanting to make her gag, to make her choke, the way he always had on the boat. It was all right. She wanted him to. She let him push as deeply as she could stand.

And then, in a single blur of movement, she shot her palm up into his gun hand. Jerked her head down.

And clamped her jaws together.

Skull Face shrieked. The gun went off inches from her ear. She barely heard it. She grabbed the barrel and torqued it toward the ceiling and bit harder, screaming, roaring through the clod of blood and tissue in her mouth. Skull Face shrieked again and shook, unable to pull away, frozen by shock and pain. Livia pushed the gun hard to the left and tore her head viciously to the right. The gun came loose. So did the rest of him.

She fell to her back, bringing the gun into her right hand on the way. Redcroft was already moving offline, his hand going for his gun, but she’d anticipated the move and tracked him easily, firm grip, front sight on the target, just the way Rick had taught her.

She pressed the trigger. The first round caught him in the side. He twitched and continued to fumble for his weapon. She shot him again in the side. Tracked up. Shot him in the neck. He fell to his knees. She lowered her sights. And blew his jaw off. A geyser of blood erupted from where his lower face had been. His hands went spastically to the wound as though he could somehow arrest the damage, and he looked at her for a moment, his eyes wide, as though imploring her to explain how this possibly could have happened. Then he pitched forward onto the carpet.

Livia stood, keeping the gun on Redcroft. She spat the bloody chunk of meat from her mouth onto the carpet. Lone watched wordlessly, frozen in his chair, his face a mask of shock and horror.

Skull Face was on his back, shrieking, writhing, his hands clasped uselessly over his crotch, blood flowing through his fingers and saturating his pants.

Livia pointed the gun at Lone and said, “Stay.” Then she walked to where Redcroft lay and put one more round in the back of his head. She pulled the gun from behind his pants and threw it to the far corner of the room.

She knelt next to Skull Face and patted him down, keeping the gun on Lone. Skull Face continued to shriek and writhe. He was clean. He’d only had the SIG, and now the SIG was hers.

She stood and walked closer to Lone. “The bedroom,” she said. “Move.”

“I’ll tell you about your sister,” he said, panting. “I’ll tell you everything.”

She spat out another bolus of gore and wiped the back of her wrist across her bloody mouth. She smiled at him.

“I know you will,” she said. “I know.”





64—NOW

She handcuffed Lone to the bed, the same way he had handcuffed the girl, making sure he could see into the living room. Then she went back for Skull Face.

He was still shrieking. She set down the gun and scooped the bloody remains of his cock off the carpet. She could taste his blood, smell it everywhere. She dipped her head and looked at him for a moment, letting him see her, letting him know what was coming.

He cried out and rolled to his stomach, his hands still covering his amputated crotch, then started twitching away from her like an earthworm.

She moved in, grabbed him by an ear with her free hand, and dragged him onto his back. He shrieked, “Mai! Mai!”

That much Thai she remembered. It meant “No! No!”

She gripped his hair in her left hand. Put her left foot behind his head and planted her right knee in his throat.

He kept his mouth shut and tried to twist away. She pressed harder with her knee. He struggled for another moment. She pressed harder. His mouth popped open. She shoved his severed cock into it, clamping her palm down over his mouth and nose to hold it there.

“Mmmmmmphhh!” he screamed, the sound muffled by her hand and what was under it. “Mmmmmmphhh!”

She was crying now. “You so fun!” she shouted, staring into his bulging eyes. “You so fun!”

She gripped his hair and bore down with her hand and knee while he choked and twitched and struggled. He grabbed her wrist and tried uselessly to pry her hand away. Then he began to vomit. She pressed harder. His body convulsed. She stared into his agonized eyes until they went vacant, until his twitching body lay still.

She stood, her breathing ragged, heaving, and took a moment to collect herself. She looked at Lone. He was bleating in terror, rattling the handcuffs against the bedframe, desperately trying to break loose.

Nason, she thought. Nason.

The dragon seemed to settle and fold its wings. But its breath was still hot, its eyes still glowing.

It was telling her it would wait again.

But not for very long.





65—NOW

Livia walked into the bedroom. Lone strained harder at the handcuffs, moaning in terror. She stopped at the foot of the bed and looked at him.

“Don’t hurt me,” he said, panting. “Please. I’ll tell you about your sister. Tell you everything. Please.”

Livia pulled a chair from against the wall and positioned it so it faced the bed. She sat and looked at him. “All right. Tell me.”