“This isn’t what we agreed on.” I stare at the man sitting across from me, a pile of cash in a black garbage bag on the dingy desk between us. We’re in the basement of a decrepit warehouse near the railroad tracks in downtown Birmingham. No man’s land.

“That’s all we got. That’s it.” Ratty G shrugs.

I have no idea what his real name is. I don’t care. All I care about is that he’s short on the money for the heroin we’ve been providing to him and his dealers. It won’t stand. Two of his associates guard the door at his back, their eyes cold, the gunmetal glinting from their hips even colder.

“I have to say I’m disappointed.” I lean back in my creaky metal chair.

His men twitch.

Ratty G twirls one of his dreads and shrugs. “Way I see it, this is the start of a new deal. New terms. Go on back and tell your cult daddy that we want a ten percent cut in prices. We deal everything you send, always. You don’t got no one else who can guarantee movement like that.”

In fact, I have two other dealers who move twice as much product as he does. Ratty G is expendable. I toy with telling him that fact to see if he reconsiders. I opt for choice number two.

I address the beefiest guard by the door. “Currently, Ratty G gets a three and a half percent cut of everything he sells for us. He has a problem with paying what he owes on time. I am willing to pay one of you four percent to do Ratty G’s job, and you can keep that job as long as you pay what is owed on ti—”

Ratty G’s eyes widen. “Whoa, man. That’s not—”

His brains are splattered all over the garbage bag and the desk before he can finish his protest.

“I’ll take that job.” The beefy killer looks at his partner who hasn’t moved. “Be my right hand man?”

He nods.

I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and wipe a splatter of blood from my forehead, then rise to leave. “Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen.” Hefting the gory money bag over my shoulder, I climb the stairs, get in my car, and head to my next collection stop.

* * *

When I enter Delilah’s room, I’m surprised to find her naked and on her knees beside her bed. I’m even more surprised at the disappointment that wells within me. Broken so soon?

I sit on her bed, my body groaning with relief. The ache in my back subsides as I settle before her. It had been a long day of dirt, and I’d been looking forward to the reward of my squeaky clean lamb. She doesn’t disappoint.

“Look at me.”

She lifts her chin, those otherworldly gray eyes meeting mine.

“Why so obedient today?”

Her face stays impassive. “I want to please you.”

“Oh?” I smile. Playing with my food always lifts my spirits. “How best do you think you can please me?”

“By being obedient to the Prophet.”

I narrow my eyes. “You mean to me.”

She drops her gaze for a split second, then meets mine again. “To you, as a representative of the Prophet.”

She’s not broken at all. Just toying with me again. My cock begins to express its interest, coming to life as I stare down at her. Plump lips, rosy cheeks, pert breasts. Fuck, how can a man be expected to concentrate? It has never been a problem before.

“Foolish little lamb.” I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “You are still lost, wandering around in the pasture, ignoring the wolves all around you.”

She pinches her lips together, likely to stifle a sassy comeback. I want her to let it out.

“Stand up.”

She rises, her pale skin almost shimmering. Her neck is still bruised from that idiot Newell.

I pull her hand toward me and move aside a bandage on her wrist. “What’s this?”

“Just a few scratches.”

They aren’t scratches, more like tears, and there are bruises forming a ring around each wrist.

Gripping her forearms tightly, I ask, “Who did this?”

She blinks a few times. “The Head Spinner.”

“Why?” I skim my gaze down her body and find more bruising between her thighs. Red coats my vision for a moment, and I taste blood.

“The man you killed.” She swallows hard. “It was my fault for tempting him. So the Head Spinner—”

I reach up and grip behind her neck, yanking her face down to mine. “I killed him, not you.”

“She said that it was my fault.”

“She’s a moron in a costume who hasn’t the faintest clue.” Her lips are close to mine. Her breath whispers across my lips, her long hair tickling along my cheeks.

“I’ll have a talk with her.” I’d have to do it for the Winter Solstice preparations anyway. Fuck.

She tries to shake her head, but can’t while she’s in my grasp. “Please don’t. She already has it in for me.”

“You don’t tell the wolf what to do, little lamb.” I push her back down to her knees. “Let’s get back to the matter at hand. You said you wanted to please me.”

“Yes.” Her voice quavers.

“What do you suggest?”

Her fingers tangle in a knot, and her cheeks redden. “I could… I could—”

“Suck my cock?” I love the flare of her nostrils, the fear that darts across her features.

“I-if that’s what you want me to do.”

“Of course I do.” I grip her hair and pull her close, then nestle her face against my erection.

She stiffens, letting me hold her still but doing nothing else.

I laugh. “If this is how you sucked your last cock, I can’t imagine a happy ending to that relationship.”

She pulls against my grip. “It wasn’t a relationship.”

“No?” I release her, and she sits back, her breasts heaving as she tries to calm herself.

Looking away, she says softly, “It wasn’t my idea.”

I pinch her chin and pull her to face me. “Who was the not-so-lucky fellow?”

“My stepfather.”