Thankfully, the old woman was just about limber enough to be able to dodge the flying club, and Jane was able to use her peak human strength to shoulder carry both of the younger men out of the suite and give herself plausible deniability for whatever happened next.
“Perhaps you’ve seen me face around this city, but I’m just one of the bugs living under your feet, that you feel you can squash at any time,” Beetle snarled. Then he popped a boner to try to throw Yasmine off when she sat on his lap, even after she knocked out one of his teeth with that wallop of a right hook.
“Oh, are they now?” Beetle played dumb. “Found ‘em in the garbage, love. And I mean, yeah, I saw her, but she was a little blur of leopard, that’un. Didn’t get a good look at her face, is what I’m sayin’.”
Of course, Beetle was lying through his teeth. He had looked into Deirdre’s eyes for two months with so much love as he’d let her stay at his place, and stitched together the tatters of Shiloh and Brona into this new woman that he hoped would save the soul of this cold city.
Then he’d seen one last time last night.
Oh how long he’d looked at those silver eyes that captivated him so as, at her request, in the dark and with no possibility of anyone seeing them, he made love to all of her last night like he’d ached to for so long, with only grunts and groans on their mind to conceal their identities, and then ejaculated into a vial for her plan B.
That night as he held her, Beetle had made a vow to protect whatever she called herself like she, grown up so much from when they’d first met, had done for him during her stay.
He knew he was going to die for her tonight, whether Yasmine or his inoperable brain tumor (created by all those implants) got to him, to kickstart her campaign as she remotely watched through his eyes and spied upon their enemy.