Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(71)
He handed an earbud to her. She frowned but put it on. “Don’t worry. They dance mainly under us in circles while we hold the big pitchforks. They get the smallest charges and they don’t handle them. You see those guys there?” She pointed at a group near a cart full of firecrackers. “Every ten devils have a cart that walks near us in the parade, recharging the pitchforks when they go out. In a corner at the square there’s already set a big stash of fire charges for when we all come together for the final show.”
Oh well, that surely changed everything. Crazy people.
“This is fun,” Max said with a whistle, obviously totally disagreeing. “How come I didn’t know about this? We ditch the devil outfits, turn them into green shamrocks and St. Patrick’s will never be the same.”
“As an explosives expert, I have to object to being here,” Cole said, approaching. “There shouldn’t be any civilians around, much less without protective gear. And only trained personnel should have access to the fire charges.”
Jack couldn’t agree more.
“That would be soo much fun for the public,” Elle said, rolling her eyes. “The idea is for them to participate.”
“The idea is for them to make it home in one piece and not missing an eye,” Cole muttered.
Elle went on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “You worry too much, bro. People come ready. Most are covered. If they get too hot, they scream ‘water,’ and buckets full of water are thrown on them from the balconies.”
Cole didn’t look reassured in the least. “I’m sure that’s very effective when you’re in flames.”
“Cool,” Max interjected.
“Come on, let’s take position,” James said to Cole, shaking his head, “before this wacko joins the parade.”
At that moment the devils carrying the big-assed drums started to bang on them.
“That’s the signal. Let’s go,” she said pulling at Jack. “Our team is there.”
Even though she had her sunglasses on, the scarf over her mouth, and the hood covering half her face, they all recognized her.
“Ready to light up the night?” she screamed over the thunderous sound of the drums, picking up her fork.
All of them cheered and then turned to Jack.
“This is…” She faltered.
“I’m her man,” Jack interrupted.
A guy she’d introduced as Raul stared at her, his eyes big.
“Yes, and I’m his pet. He plans to return me to the kennel as soon as he tires of me.”
By the look on Raul’s face, he wasn’t sure they were serious or not. “Oh, okay. I guess. As long as he doesn’t have you neutered. Or put to sleep.”
When Raul got busy charging the others’ pitchforks, Jack hooked his finger through the loop of her belt, brought her to him, and spoke in her ear. “You like it in the kennel, pet. Free to play. No owner to obey.”
“Have you ever considered I might like to have an owner to disobey?”
He studied her. “I’m not the kind of owner who likes to be disobeyed.”
She pursed her lips mockingly. “Oh, I see, I don’t deserve your collar.” Before he could answer, she pushed on belligerently, “Actually, if you need to put a collar on me, then I’m the wrong pet for you. And you are definitely the wrong owner to obey.”
Her pitchfork had been loaded, Raul lit the charges and there she went.
“Your turn,” Raul said, handing him a pitchfork.
Right.
Elle had not been totally truthful. It was not only the more daring spectators going to dance with them, but the devils were charging the public too. Not to mention the dragon and the phoenix spitting fire. And the drums hammering at his ears and the people yelling and the water flying from the windows.
In the middle of all that mayhem, he noticed his cell vibrating. It was a message from Mullen.
Donald Solis, Marlene’s supervisor, is missing. Last seen leaving a bar with a blond guy matching Grabar’s description. His hotel room in Hawaii has strong evidence of foul play, blood spatter on the walls consistent with a throat being slit. Body nowhere to be seen, but plenty of state parks and plantations nearby to dispose of it.
Fuck, game over.
“We’re pulling the plug,” Jack spoke into the earbud. “Maldonado knows about Elle. You copy, pet?”
But she didn’t answer.
He searched for Elle, who’d gone a bit ahead, spotting her near a kid who was crying desperately in his mother’s arms. She smiled at him, said something, and then pulled down her hood and her scarf, uncovering her face.
Fuck, no, no, no.
He tried to rush to her, but there were people under him, so he couldn’t let the pitchfork go, and that f*cking dragon got in front of him, blocking his way. The last he saw was Elle turning the corner before he lost sight of her.
“Anyone have eyes on the target?” he yelled. “Max? She should be coming your way. You see her?”
No answer either.
“Fuck,” came from James. “Max’s down.”
Elle twirled over herself, fire flying all over. Her earbud had gone careening several twirls ago, but she didn’t have the time to fish it out of her hood right now. She’d attempt rescue when she went for recharging. Besides, she was half-deaf already from the fireworks and the drums.