Continued from Part Four
Inside Night Lord’s midnight black lair,  lit by a black light bulb, Marcos folded his arm. “All this elaborate plotting, and all you accomplished was to lose a two million dollar helicopter.”

Night Lord put his feet up on his silver desk and leaned back in his chair so far that he was almost upside down. “Hey, I came closer to killing Powerhouse than anyone else ever has.”

And not close enough to falling backwards and splitting your head open—yet.

“Irrelevant. Your target is the reverend. Someone more competent will be handling Powerhouse. This afternoon, take care of the reverend.”

Night Lord sat up, his eyes narrowing. “What’s my name?”

“Nigel Lemming.”

The freak dropped his feet to the floor, murder in his eyes. “That’s Night Lord to you. Notice it’s not Dawn Lord, Morning Lord, and especially not Afternoon Lord.”

“Don’t get cute with me.”

“It’s in my contract. I said I’d lie, cheat, and steal—at night.”

“So you’re not going to do this because you’re neurotic.”

Night Lord spread his hands. “Hey, you agreed to it.”

“Fine, I’ll handle this.” Marcos fingered his revolver, pulling it half way out of its holster. “But you’re on thin ice, Nigel.”

Continued…here

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