Spiders in the Grove (In the Company of Killers #7)(33)

“But maybe it’s where you’d rather be anyway,” he goes on. “Why aren’t you there, Victor? In Mexico?”—he laughs under his breath—“I mean, it’s just funny to me, how you claim to love that woman so much—more than you ever loved my sister—but here you are, with me in this dusty-ass basement”—his eyes scan the area—“instead of being in Mexico, where your woman is in way over her pretty red head.”

“It is complicated,” I say. It frustrates me that Apollo is baiting me with conversation, and that I am falling for it.

He smirks. “Complicated is an understatement. What the hell happened to you, Faust? Well, I know what happened—you lost your shit!—but how did you let it happen? Seriously, man, I want to know; y’know, so I can make sure it never happens to me.” He grins.

“It will not happen to you, Apollo.”

He arches a brow. “Oh? How can you be so sure?”

“You will not live long enough to meet another woman to fall in love with.”

“I see.” He nods, always unaffected by verbal threats.

I sit down on the chair, prop an ankle on a knee, and fold my hands loosely within my lap.

“Oh, come on, Victor; you know you want to be there, watching over her yourself.”

“I have it under control.”

“Do you?” he taunts me. “Or, are you just trying to make yourself believe that?”

“You talk too much, Apollo.”

He smiles, showing his teeth.

“Yeah, it’s kinda my thing; I like a good conversation.”

“Then you must be terribly disappointed,” I taunt him in return, “so, perhaps you should shut your mouth.”

He smirks.

“You know what they’ll do to her over there,” he continues. “You know they’ve probably already done it. Over and over and over—”

I tear across the room in a blur; Apollo’s eyes bulge in his face as my hand clamps about his throat with all the force I can summon. I glare down into his eyes, my lips stretched tight over my teeth, my head burning hot like a raging fire, spreading, spreading, spreading. He chokes, gasping for air, his tongue swollen in his mouth; I squeeze harder, the rage in my head burning hotter. The whites of his eyes roll into view, and then his eyelids flutter. “Don’t fucking test me, Apollo Stone”—the force of my hand knocks his head against the wall behind him—“because I can find your sister without you; you are only alive because this way is quicker.” Gritting my teeth, I hold him still for a second longer and then let go.

Apollo coughs in a mad fit; life rushes back into his face; moisture settles in around his eyes.

I fall heavily into the chair, my arms hanging limply down at my sides, my back slouched, my breathing labored. What is wrong with me? I must focus. I cannot let this man get to me.

Then I sigh, realizing. It is not Apollo getting to me at all—it is Izabel. And I do not know what to do with it. All I know is that I cannot spend too much time on Apollo and Artemis; I need to be ready in case— A surge of energy floods my body; I scoot the chair closer to him, and I sit right in front of him. I cannot believe I am about to do this, but seeing as how I grow more and more unlike myself every single day, I just go with it. Until I can fix it.

“Goddamn”—Apollo coughs, still trying to catch his breath—“you’ve seriously cracked!” He clears his throat, and then he laughs.

“Cut the sarcasm, Apollo,” I say, “I am going to do you a favor.”

“I’m listening,” he says, with suspicious doubt.

“I am going to let you go”—(his left brow hitches higher than the other)—“and the reason I am going to let you go—”

“Is to teach that woman of yours a lesson,” he finishes for me, grinning. “You got that look in your eyes. Wow…I uh…well, I have to say, vengeance really doesn’t look good on you. I mean, it really doesn’t.”

“Do I look like I care how it looks to you?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Actually, no, you honestly don’t—Wooo! Am I still fucked up on that shit Tall-Dark-And-Psychotic pumped me full of? I must be. Because if I ain’t, then this world must’ve hit one helluva—.” He stops mid-sentence, and just looks at me, realization filling the lines in his face. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. I have never been known for my jokes.”

He laughs, makes a noise with his breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right—though you should try a few sometime; laughter might do you some good. Wait—what’s the price? Of course, there’s a price.”

I lean toward him, dropping my hands between my legs.

“I want you and Artemis to leave Izabel alone. I will call off every person I have looking for you, terminate the bounties on your heads, and I myself will leave you be, let you live your pathetic lives without having to look over your shoulders—just leave Izabel alone.” If I kill Apollo here, no deal like this could ever be made, and Artemis would hunt Izabel forever.

“Oh, come on now, Victor,” he says with amusement, “you know Artemis; she won’t be as easy to convince. Not to mention that woman of yours; I think her level of revenge is waaay up there in the Ain’t-No-Motherfucker-Stopping-Me range right along with my sister’s, so I doubt she’ll stop looking for Artemis.”