Page 50 of Tracked By Sasquatch

He searched her eyes in the dull illumination of a distant streetlight, then kissed her forehead.

She waited by the step as Jasper picked the lock. She knew he had a gun, but he pulled his knife instead and she followed him as they entered the house.

No not Jasper, this was definitely Sasquatch, club enforcer. His entire bearing was different the second he’d dismounted.

SASQUATCH

He fucking hated doing this with Devin, but he accepted she’d needed to. He knew Croon had taught her to shoot and fight, that helped, not a lot, but it was something.

That and by all the accounts he had of Thom, the fucker was a joke. One fifty if that and not the sharpest tool in the shed. He wasn’t a gun guy, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. One thing he knew for sure, never underestimate your opponent.

As they entered, Thom was asleep on a recliner in the living room.

Convenient.

Sasquatch walked around it, and levered it up violently, but held Thom’s forehead back against the cheap upholstery, and placed his favorite knife at his throat.

Yes he had a favorite, who didn’t?

“Uh uh uh, asshole. Keep real still unless you wanna see what a larynx looks like.” He leaned down to his ear. “I can tell you from experience, they’re not pretty.”

The TV and rising sun cast enough light to see, but Squatch didn’t need his eyes to know that Thom’s gaze had settled on the figure in front of him.

“Hello, Thom.” Devin spoke as if she were greeting someone she vaguely remembered when she ran into them at the grocery store. She was the picture of calm with an undercurrent of fuck you and he’d be damned if it wasn’t turning him on.

“Miss me?”

Thom tensed under Squatch’s hand and he felt the blade nick the soft flesh.

“Not at all, you fat bitch.” Thom gritted out, and Squatch removed the blade from his throat and brought it up to make a cut at the corner of his mouth, leaving him no choice but to open and allow the tip inside.

“Talk to her like that again, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out and make you swallow it.” Squatch didn’t growl or rage, just stated a fact calmly. Little did Thom know, his tongue was already forfeit.

Since he still needed his ability to speak for the time being, Squatch moved the knife back to his throat.

“Listen, I’m not here to have a battle of wits with a woefully under-armed person.”

Damn, she was cold as ice, and it was burning him alive. Squatch didn’t think she had it in her, Devin was always so warm with him. The ice in her gaze had him needing to end this fucker and get the old woman out, so he could fuck Devin into that cheap hotel mattress.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Thom questioned.

The way her lip curled up in a sneer, but not just any sneer, a superior sneer, just made him love her more. He’d been worried she was too good for him, too clean. He had more blood on his hands than could be washed off in a lifetime, he’d not wanted that to taint Devin. Wondered if she was too soft to handle his darker side, but he was realizing how wrong he was.

“Exactly.” That was it, her answer to the still-breathing dead man. One word that spoke volumes.

Thom made a sound of confusion, so Squatch leaned down to explain.

“Let me dumb it down for you. She called you stupid, but you were too fucking stupid to understand it. Then, she doubled down with her reply, and you’re still confused.” He lowered his voice even more. “It kinda proves her point.”

He stood back to his full height and tapped his cheek twice. “But cheer up, even complete morons like you can be useful.”

“Here.” Devin held out the papers she’d brought with her. “Sign these so I can take Ida somewhere safe, and then I’ll only let him maim you a little, if not…”

She left the threat hanging and damn if he wasn’t getting harder and harder with everything she said and did. He loved this side of her, what did that say about him?

Thom’s laugh pierced the air. A laugh that made the hair on the back of Squatch’s neck stand up. It was like he knew something they didn’t and Squatch didn’t like that shit at all.

Removing his free hand from the asshole, he reached behind him slowly and pulled out his suppressed handgun. With almost imperceptible movements, he allowed his arm with the gun to hang loosely, hiding it behind the recliner. The knife still firmly at his neck.