Templar's Code

CHAPTER 75

Saviour tugged on the baseball cap bill, pulling it lower, obscuring his features. That done, he turned to the muscular Jamaican beside him. Together they swayed and bobbed to the hypnotic percussion beat. Nearly a hundred bystanders swayed and bobbed along with them.

Without a doubt, Meridian Hill was a mystical and magical place.

Utterly seduced by the pulse of the drums and the teeming bodies that moved as one glorious, undulating beast, Saviour put a hand on the other man’s shoulder to steady himself. Afraid his legs might actually collapse beneath him. Both sensual and martial, this was the rhythm of the sex act fused to the soldiers’ call to arms.

He glanced at the nearby statue of an armored woman astride a bronze horse, charging into battle. Arm raised, leg muscles clenched. Exuberantly riding into the face of danger.

The Brit liked to court danger. To charge into battle. That’s why Mercurius wanted Aisquith to take all the risk in this hunt. Let the Brit do all the tedious legwork and backbreaking exertion. Saviour was simply to follow in the Brit’s shadow and collect the prize. Then, when the Brit and his woman no longer served a purpose, they would find themselves faced with a danger they could not escape.

As Saviour moved his body to the rhythmic percussion, he felt the sexual energy move up his spine, the pulsating beat animating his entire body. His entire being. The fierce pounding created a jubilant, primal sound that had but one purpose—to incite a man’s bloodlust.

Exhilarated, he smiled at the dark-skinned man in front of him.

Returning the smile, the swaying Jamaican grasped him by the wrist. “See di blood, mon?” He raised Saviour’s hand a few inches to show him the crimson smear on the base of his thumb. Ranger Walker’s blood. “Me think yah a hot stepper.”

Excited by the contact, Saviour glanced at the red smudge. “A hot stepper? What is that?”

“Yah is a bad boy, I think.”

Hearing that, he envisioned Ranger Walker propped against the Jefferson Pier, stabbed straight through the heart. A similar fate awaited the Brit and his woman. Soon enough he would have their blood on his hands.

Saviour stepped closer to the Jamaican. “Yes . . . I’m very bad.”