Demon Lord 6: Garnet Tongue Goddess Read Online Free PDF Page A

himself Crusher.   He’s a champion wrestler—to hear him tell it—but I don’t think he ever won a match without the help of a two-by-four.”
    Bingo!  Wrestler.  Called it.
    Teresa said, “Hmm, that’s everyone but Clifford and Deedee.  Where do you suppose they are?”  She glanced over to a camera on the wall.  A moment later, her cell phone chimed.  She answered, listened, and cut the connection.  “They’re out back, strolling along the lake.”
    Somewhere around here is a monitor room where geekanoids watch our every move. 
    I stepped away from Lillian, drawing Holy aside so I could speak to her privately.  I dropped my voice, using real whisper, not one of Rooster’s variety.  “Holy, find out where all the camera feeds go to.  I want to know where the control room is and how many people are in the crew.”
    What they might know doesn’t matter.  What they can prove is different.
    Holy nodded.  “On it, Boss.”  She ambled toward the door.
    Shiva called out.  “Where are you going?”
    Holy called over her shoulder.   “Ladies room.”
    Shiva said, “I’ll go with you.”
    Rooster asked, “Why do women always have to piss together?”
    “It’s a survival thing.  Safety in numbers.  Primitive instinct.”  I turned and shot Shiva a cold glance.  “Go on.  I’ll probably still be alive by the time you get back.”
    Holy passed Crusher. 
    He turned and studied her sweet ass as she left.
    Shiva reached him next.  She thrust her massive fist into his leering face and sent him careening in a tangent, unconscious before he hit the dusty mahogany floor.
    Teresa stared up at a wall-mounted camera and said, “Tell me you got that—from multiple angles.”
    Her phone chimed with a response.
    Lillian eased up to me.  Her hand stealthily wandered, checking out my package.  Her eyes went huge.  “My Gawd!”
    I stared at her, mock-surprise on my face.  “I know, right?  And I’m not even hard yet.”  Though that was changing.  “Let’s go find this spirited-away vibrator of yours and see if it still works.”
    She hooked her arm through mine.  “Oh, yes, let’s.”
     
     
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    FOUR
     
    “One must always play with fire;
    That’s what weapons are for.”
     
                                                       — Caine Deathwalker
     
     
    Lillian guided me back to the main corridor, then further, into the west wing.  “This area is in a better state of repair, and there have been renovations,” she said.  “I’m over here.”
    Before we could get to her room, a cold chill went down my spine.  I saw something hideous bearing down on me.  I pulled a PX4 Storm semi-automatic into my hand from my armory in Malibu. 
    It was a black man—who wasn’t black.  He looked like he was in his late forties.  Crinkly gray hair tied into a little ponytail in back, flat lips, a pug nose, chalky skin, and black eyes; not a pink-eyed albino like Holy.  I suspected he had a rare genetic disorder, low pigmentation, and an allergy to sunlight.  My first clue was the fact that he reeked of sunscreen.  This late into autumn, the sun was mild—for ordinary people.  He wore khaki pants, a satin white cape with golden trim, and under that, a Hawaiian shirt with palm trees. 
    I’d summoned the gun because I hate Hawaiian shirts, and because paranoia is a survival trait.
    “You there, are you with the show?  When are we supposed to start filming?  I’ve been stuck in this hell hole for a week now.  Unlike the others, I have a restaurant to get back to.”
    Heels clicked on the floor behind him.  A thin woman in jeans and a teal sweatshirt caught up to him.  Her voice had an edge of anger.  “You sound like you don’t want to be with me.”
    I raised my gun and pointed it at her face.  There was no need to cock the slide.  I stored my weapons in a ready-to-fire