Angel Bait (Angel Assassins #1) (22 page)

“Your momma isn’t coming home, sweet girl,” she said, choking with effort. “JP’s never coming back.”

The whipping tails stopped moving. Her hand shook as she rubbed Echo’s floppy ears.

“Your alpha is gone. Someone killed her.” Emotion suffocated Ionie. Was she nuts, talking to a bunch of dogs like they’d understand? JP always said they were the smartest animals on Earth.

“I’m so sorry,” Ionie said. Tears streamed from her. “She loved all of you, and I’m so sorry this happened.”

She crumpled. She couldn’t do this. JP should be here, not her. Ionie let everything go and cried, her sobs turning to loud wails. She hugged herself and let emptiness overwhelm her. She heard Echo whimper, and then Bowie. The other three made short, high-pitched whines. Soon, all of JP’s pack began to howl.

Ionie cried loudest of all.

Then the howling quieted. She looked up and found the dogs staring at her.

Do they blame me?
Echo nudged her with a wet nose. The others moved closer, each nudging her in turn. Moe sidled up and lay down. QT did the same, and soon all of the pack did. Ionie stared at the dogs’ behavior and tried to remember what she knew about packs.

They need an alpha to lead them. They chose her.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Ionie said. JP would never allow her family to be separated.

A sense of calm spread through her, warm like a blanket. Determination fueled her. She’d need to take them someplace safe. Her duplex was out for many reasons.

Where?

Nervous excitement struck her.

The Stronghold
. The enormous warehouse had enough room to keep five oversized dogs happy until she figured out what to do next.

Where was Jarrid?
Her memories came back hazy. She saw flashes, like exploding light bulbs, in her mind, but nothing concrete. Her friend’s corpse. Gun shots. None of it made sense.

Ionie brushed strands of hair from her forehead. “Okay, fur babies, we’re taking a drive. Go grab whatever chew toys you need. I’ll get the truck ready. Be back in five.”

Tails started to wag as the dogs ran off. She laughed and walked to the Excursion. The Order was about to have company.

• • •

The rear doors of the white SUV were open when Saul arrived. He frowned at the wire crates fitted in the back, curious of their use. Each was tall enough for a child to stand in. He exited his car and shielded himself behind an American Elm. A second later, the human walked out, a bundle of blankets in her arms.

Her rich brown skin no longer glowed with Beleth’s power.
Good
. He was sick of fighting forces he had no equal to match. Ionie moved to one of the cages and placed a blanket inside.
A bed?
Whatever would ride in the truck was large, maybe big enough to cause him trouble. He thumbed the gun hidden in his shoulder holster.

The woman continued fumbling with a blanket, unaware of his approach. With long, silent strides, he covered the short distance.

“If you scream, I’ll drink your blood from the bullet wounds.”

Her back stiffened. Saul opened his senses, breathing in her sweet fruity scent. “You’ve been a pain in my ass. How did you get close to the half-breeds?”

She didn’t answer, but that was fine. He could smell the fear clogging her pores.

“Turn. Slow and easy.”

Ionie’s frightened eyes looked different. With the almond shapes wide with surprise, he scanned her face, trying to locate the change. Saul thought back to the night he’d pinned her against the nightclub wall. Her eyes then were an alluring dark brown.

“Silver?” he said, leaning closer. He stroked a finger down her cheek. “Well, well. How did this happen?”

“Don’t touch me!” Ionie raised her defiant head. “You tried to kill me.”

“I was hungry,” Saul said, shrugging it off. He caught her wrist before she could deliver a punch to his face.

“Touch me again and you’ll have the Order to deal with!”

He let his grin split his face. “I’m not worried about Heaven’s assassins, tasty girl.”

In a fraction of a second, her face morphed from defiance to confusion. Her lips parted as if she planned to speak, but she shook her head instead. Saul studied her expression with wonder.

“They didn’t tell you,” he said, amused.

“What are you blabbering about, bloodsucker?”

“Your new BFFs are assassins who hunt their own kind. They’re murderers who kill their daddies.”

Ionie stepped back, shaking her head, eyes wide and filled with disbelief. “No. You’re lying.”

Christ, talking to this bitch made Saul’s fangs ache. Hours had passed since he last fed, yet here he was, playing with potential food. He wouldn’t risk it though.

Can’t have Beleth in a rage if his prize died
. He’d dodged that bullet before.

“The Eternal Order, you idiot, are assassins,” Saul said. “They’re tracking my business associate, but somehow you’ve wedged yourself into their good graces. Why is that?”

“But Jarrid said … ” Ionie wrapped her arms around his waist.

Jarrid?
“Your boyfriend from the club?” He asked. Her gaze darted away.

Oh, yes.
That towering menace and this human were sexing it up at The Church when he’d found them. At the time he’d dismissed the cloying scent of hormones. Lust was part of the club’s appeal. He rubbed his chin.

“You’re lovers,” Saul said, leering at Ionie. She backed away, but he knew he’d hit the mark.

The night hadn’t been a complete loss. He considered his options. With this one woman, he possessed both the deposit on his deal with the Renegade and a way to lure the nephilim. Adrenaline rushed through his cold veins, warming him deeper than a blood infusion.

“I know someone who’s dying to meet you.” He lunged at the shocked woman before she could scream.

Jarrid tapped his earpiece. “Tanis, I need an address for Ionie’s friend, JP. Don’t have a last name.”

“On it.”

The truck idled, its diesel engine rumbling like a bound stallion. Ionie was out there, somewhere. So was Beleth and his vampire lackeys. She’d be vulnerable, especially if her powers waned.

Would she suffer the Act of Contrition?
Jarrid prayed against it. He and his brethren barely tolerated the effects. Ionie wouldn’t stand a chance.

“There’s a reporter named JP Young. Three six four Glenbrook Lane,” Tanis said over the wireless. “You’re a few blocks east of there.”

“Have the team meet me.” He disconnected and floored the gas pedal.

The truck lurched and sped up Gratiot Avenue. He backtracked his thoughts, reliving the sweet moments with Ionie. He touched his lower lip with his finger. The tender sensation didn’t match the soft perfection of her lush lips. A groan escaped him.

Emotions were torture. One night of human passion and he was a mess. Jarrid tightened his grip on the steering wheel, wringing the leather with his hands. He had walked into a goddamned trap, risked his brothers lives, and lost his woman. His heart hitched in his chest. Time to man up.

Ionie is mine
.

He’d never lose her again. When he found her, he’d spill his guts and own up to his job, the Renegade, all of it. Then he’d find a way to keep her.

The traffic light switched to yellow, then to red. He glanced in the rearview and furrowed his brow. At two
A.M.
a few cars should share the road, but it was deserted. He angled his head to peek out the windshield. The light remained red.

Come on.
He glared at the traffic light, his agitation increasing. He didn’t believe in coincidences.

Jarrid slipped his right hand from the steering wheel and touched his left gun holster. He flipped the button clasp.

“That won’t be necessary, nephilim.” Kaonos’ face appeared outside the driver’s side window.

Jarrid rolled his eyes. “You here to wash my windows?”

Two more angels stood in front of the truck. Jarrid flicked his gaze to the rearview. Two sets of flyboys waited behind the vehicle.
Surrounded
.

He shook his head. “What do you want?”

“You’re summoned, half-breed,” Kaonos said. A shit-eating grin cracked his face.

A sidelong glance told Jarrid he’d need serious luck to beat four trained — and likely armed to their flight feathers — angel soldiers. He glared at the messenger. Centuries hadn’t cooled his hatred for the prick. Kaonos tried to kill him as a child, an act Tanis stopped.

Jarrid opened the door and climb out. Three angels flanked him. “Who wants me?”

“Who do you think?”

One punch and Jarrid could smash the guy’s nose into his brain.

I can dream
. He relaxed his muscles. “I’m on a mission. This can wait.”

Four swords appeared, pointed at Jarrid’s neck. He turned to stone. The angels meant business.

“By decree of the Holy Host, Jarrid of Nephilim, you are ordered back to Heaven where you shall be judged,” Kaonos said.

“What the hell is going on? Judged for what crime?”

The messenger’s silver eyes brightened. “Why, the sins of your father, half-breed.”

• • •

Most people believed the religious propaganda of Heaven as a vast landscape of clouds dotted with golden archways and fat children playing instruments. Jarrid stole a glimpse of reality. Tall white columns separated titanium doors engraved with images of warrior angels in flight.

He hated coming here and he never paid a casual visit. He passed through several rooms, keeping his eyes focused on the back of Kaonos’ head. Several angels uttered crude insults when Jarrid passed. His lips quirked. Some things never changed.

A final passageway towered above the others. He ground his teeth as he approached the Directorate’s meeting chamber. The battle scene depicted in the glimmering doors served a consummate reminder of how much he’d lost centuries ago. His eyes narrowed on the tableau, burning with hatred.

Hundreds of angels swarmed over the Earth, swords raised in attack. Below them, the upraised arms of Watcher angels, their human concubines, and their offspring — nephilim. The scene of mass murder was held as an example of the purity of Heaven’s laws. Jarrid only saw proof the angels were not benevolent beings.

Kaonos paused at the double door. The satisfied grin plastered on his face caused Jarrid’s Grace to spark. He crammed it despite wishing he could shove his fist down the bastard’s throat.

“Be on your best behavior, half-breed,” the angel said.

Don’t rip his wings off. Don’t rip his wings off
. Jarrid kept up the litany when the doors opened. Inside, an arced obsidian table commanded attention. Behind it sat the Directorate, Heaven’s ruling force — and The Eternal Order’s task masters.

“Finally.” Azriel’s voice boomed across the space. “The abomination has arrived.”

Jarrid relaxed his shoulders. He’d heard the term so many times since childhood it had lost its sting.

“Your mission was to track and capture a Renegade,” Puriel said. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. Your lap dogs dragged me off the street while I was on his trail.”

Six pairs of wings fluttered.

“Watch your mouth, half-breed,” Azriel said, his tone sharp. “Have you forgotten your place?”

“Of course not.” Jarrid bit down. His jawbone cracked.

Puriel leaned back, yawning. “Then report before I fall asleep.”

The room tingled with tiny pulses of energy held in check. Jarrid felt the pinpricks on his skin. There was no way he’d tell them about his beautiful reporter. One whiff of Ionie and her transformation and the ruling board would order her killed on sight. She was his. His vow to protect her sacred.

He opened his mouth and lied. His update skipped around dates and avoided anything connecting to Ionie. He’d spew nonsense until they were satisfied.

Long minutes passed before he finished. He stood at parade rest, arms clasped behind his back and his legs apart, and studied the angels’ guarded expressions. He’d dance in a tutu for the power to read their minds. Then Azriel smiled.

“You’re lying, half-breed,” the angel said. “We know about the human woman.”

Jarrid’s heartbeat stuttered.

Don’t react, asshole
. He adopted what he hoped was a casual stance, then glared at the Directorate’s lead bulldog. “How I use bait is my business.”

“Why omit her from your report?” Puriel asked.

Could his day get any more jacked up? He’d been caught in one lie, and he didn’t know what intel they’d gathered for this farce trial.

How did they know? Was Ionie under surveillance?

“I thought the human useful to lure my mark, but he didn’t bite,” he said, shrugging. “She has no importance to my mission.”

Azriel strode across the room until the angel’s cloying fruit scent clogged Jarrid’s sinuses. Where Ionie’s had a citrus edge, like a bowl of fresh oranges, Azriel emitted a prune stench, which fit the old bastard. They glared at each other, every pretense of good behavior blasted away.

“I believe you found a use for her.”

Jarrid held his breath.

“Oh yes, freak, we miss nothing.” Azriel smirked at him. “You’ve fallen farther into sin, broken Heaven’s law, and corrupted a lesser being with carnal desire.”

Jarrid caught Puriel’s movement out the corner of his eye. The scowling angel stood up and flexed his tremendous wings. The other board members copied the move.

“When Tanis petitioned for the lives of all nephilim children, we granted him four,” Puriel said. “You and your kindred were brought here, trained, and returned to Earth to serve Heaven’s will.”

Jarrid’s skin tightened as if mummified. “We’ve never failed in our duties.”

Puriel slammed his fist down. The obsidian table absorbed the impact with a thud. “You took a human as a lover!” The thick veins in Puriel’s neck pulsed like snakes under his alabaster skin. “Where is your loyalty? Your selfishness casts shame on everything The Eternal Order has achieved.”

Jarrid’s mouth slackened. He’d never sell out his boys. Cain, Nestaron, Kasdeja, and Tanis cared for Ionie, too. They’d give their lives to keep her safe.