Courting Darkness (11 page)

Mitch’s body went limp, slumping against Haden. His grip on the guy’s neck tightened as he held him upright. With a don’t-worry-I’ve-got-this nod to the man behind the counter, he slid his arm around Mitch’s back. Grabbing ahold of his waistband, he hefted the guy up, half-walking, half-dragging the unconscious POS out the back exit.

No one paid them any mind as they crossed the parking lot, the clip of each determined step echoing counterpoint to the scuffing drag of rubber soles against asphalt. Patting Mitch’s front pocket, he felt for his keys and pulled them out. Using the keyless entry to locate his car, the security system chirped as a set of halogens flashed on a dark blue Audi.

As he neared the passenger side of the car, Mitch began to stir. A pained groan left his lips as he attempted to lift his head. His flaccid muscles slowly tensed back to life as he started to struggle against Haden’s unrelenting hold.

A quick look over Haden’s shoulder confirmed they were out of sight, and he slammed the prick up against the side of the car. Using his six-four, two-twenty frame to pin him, he reached around and grabbed Mitch’s head while the other leveraged his jaw. “I thought you would have learned by now not to fuck with me,” Haden growled.

The quick jerk of his hands wrenched Mitch’s head to the side. Bone gave way with a satisfying
crunch
. His body fell limp as Haden stepped back, catching him around the waist. Unceremoniously, he dumped the lifeless body into the front passenger seat. Mitch lay slumped over the center console, looking like a passed out drunk to anyone who may happen by as Haden casually rounded the Audi and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“You really shouldn’t have talked to Olivia like that,” Haden said quietly, making conversation with the corpse as he pulled out of the parking lot and hung a left for Mitch’s house. “She’s not a whore and she doesn’t deserve to be treated like one. You really upset her tonight.”

Silence.

He nudged Mitch with his elbow, shoving him away. His body flopped against the passenger side door, head clunking solidly against the window. “What’s the matter, Mitch? Cat got your tongue? You’re not much of a conversationalist. I do believe for once in your life, you’re finally speechless.”

Haden pulled inside Mitch’s garage. As the large door slowly closed behind him, he tucked his hand inside his sleeve, briskly wiping down the steering wheel and gear shift. Using his cloth-covered hand, he opened the door and climbed out. Walking over to the passenger door, he opened it and caught Mitch before he hit the floor. Tossing him over his shoulder, Haden fireman carried the guy into his house.

Kicking off his shoes at the door, he entered the kitchen and walked down the hall. Hanging a left, he climbed the flight of stairs in the foyer. Once he reached the top, he turned back around and leaned forward, letting Mitch slide off his shoulder. He hit the stairs with a loud
thunk
and tumbled down in a flail of arms and legs. Along the way, his arm snagged in between the railing, bone
cracked
, snapping it at an odd angle.

“Oops…” Haden winced as the offended extremity flopped around haphazardly—
thunkity-thunk-thunk-bang
. Mitch’s body tumbled to a stop, sprawled awkwardly on the tile foyer. “Damn, that had to have stung.” He descended the stairs, stepping over the corpse. Without breaking stride, he cut through the foyer, down the hall, and paused only briefly to shoe-up before exiting the kitchen. Ducking out the back door of the garage, Haden kept to the shadows as he made his way back to the bar to retrieve his wheels.

Olivia awoke to the shrill ring of the doorbell and was instantly hit with the smell of bacon. Her stomach lurched, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as she rolled out of bed and ran for the bathroom. Slamming the door behind her, she dropped to her knees before the porcelain throne and emptied her stomach.

Again the bell rang, followed by the persistent pounding of flesh against wood. “Will you answer the damn door?” she yelled between hurls.

“Sorry, dove, can’t do.”

That undertone of irritation was back in his voice, thick with judgment. “Damn touchy angel…” she grumbled, slamming her hand against the lever. The
whoosh
temporarily drowned out the banging as she braced her hands against the seat and forced herself to stand. The head rush that followed temporarily darkened her vision and she made a grab for the towel rack to keep upright. “I’m never drinking again,” she vowed to herself as she opened the door and stepped into the hall, running smack into Tate.

“Promise?” he grumbled. His hands shot out to steady her, one remaining firmly attached to her bicep. A disapproving scowl settled on his face as he led her toward the stairs.

“You could have gotten the door,” she complained, wincing as the bell pierced her ears.

“No, I can’t. The police are outside, and I’m not about to explain who I am and what I’m doing here. I can’t lie, remember?”

She turned to look at him and the brisk movement threw her off balance. His hold tightened and he tugged her a step closer as they traversed the stairs. “The police? Why would the police be here?”

His scowl darkened. “I was hoping you could tell me. By the way, you’re the only one who can see me right now.”

He gave her a last-second reminder as she opened the pounding door to an unwelcomed slap of reality. Olivia squinted against the sun shining brightly into her photophobic eyes, making the two officers before her nothing more than two dark figures. “Can I help you?” She lifted her hand, shielding her eyes from the glare.

“Olivia Norton?”

“Yes.”

“We have to inform you of some bad news, I’m afraid. You’re listed as the emergency contact for a Mitch Mathis.”

“I am?”

“Yes, ma’am, you are. And I regret to inform you that there has been an accident at his home. Mr. Mathis has passed away.”

“What?” She took a surprised step back. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as the shocking news sent her fragile stomach lurching.

“We do have a few questions for you, ma’am. If we could come inside…”

Her head was spinning as she stood there in stunned silence. How could this be happening? Guilt assuaged her on so many levels. He was little more than a stranger to her, yet in her heart she knew at one time he had been more. By the sounds of it, their relationship had been complicated, and they’d both hurt each other in different ways. Actually, she’d broken his heart, he repeatedly reminded her in his failed attempts to get back together with her. When she’d refused, needing time and space to heal—to remember again—he’d turned downright nasty. Case in point, his treatment of her last night.

What was she supposed to do with this information? How was she supposed to respond? Of course she was shocked, she’d just seen him last night and their parting words had been harsh. She held no affection for the guy and felt guilty she wasn’t more grieved by the news. It was sad to hear that a human life had been lost, but other than the passing empathy she’d have for any stranger, she wasn’t overly broken up about it as it seemed these two officers carefully eyeing her expected her to be. They glanced more than once at her arm, then exchanged questioning looks.

A hand gently took her bicep, and she winced against the pain. Glancing down, she saw dark purple bruises poking out above Tate’s hand that no doubt covered the worst of it. But it was too late. By the expressions on the officers’ faces, they’d already seen her arm. She looked up to see Tate guiding her a step back. The expression on his face was unreadable, except for the small furrow of his brows. “Come on. Let them inside.”

Numbly, she moved back, and the officers entered. She guided them to the kitchen and offered them a cup of coffee, which they both declined. With a steaming mug in her hand, she sat across from them and beside Tate, whose displeasure seemed to grow by the second.

The older of the two officers began to speak. “Please tell us the nature of your relationship with Mr. Mathis.”

“We were engaged, I am told. A few months ago, I had an accident and have since lost my memory. I have tried to end things with him on several occasions, but he hasn’t taken the breakup well. Why do you ask?”

“Before this can be ruled as an accident, an investigation must be done, Ms. Norton. We’ve found some evidence that could be…questionable. We just need to ask you a few questions. We’ll be brief, ma’am.”

“What do you mean by ‘questionable’? Are you saying you think someone killed him?”

“Possibly.” Tate replied before the officers could answer.

She shot him a concerning glance. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t do it,” he grouched. “But someone did. Why else would the police be questioning you?”

“Can you tell us where you were last night and what happened between you two?” The larger of the two officers asked.

“Nothing happened.”

“Something happened. Witnesses reported seeing the two of you together. How did you get those bruises on your arm, Ms. Norton?”

Shit…
“Mitch grabbed me,” she confessed, posting her elbows on the table and scrubbing her face with her hands. She didn’t have to be a detective to know how bad this looked. “But I didn’t do anything. He saw me at the bar and he wanted to talk. I didn’t. He was drunk, as usual. He grabbed my arm and pulled me off my stool. That’s how it got bruised.”

Tate hissed a curse beside her and for a moment, she was grateful for the police presence so she wouldn’t have to weather Tate’s I-told-you-so glower.

“Someone saw us arguing and he intervened. I left right after that, and found my friend, Ashley. Then we went home.”

“Any idea who the guy was that intervened?”

How could she answer that? “No.”

Tate crossed his arms over his chest, looking wholly unconvinced, his surly scowl turning downright livid.

The officers stood, and the younger one reached into his pocket, handing her his card. “That’s really all for now, Ms. Norton. Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch. Again, we’re sorry for your loss. If you think of anything else…”

“I’ll be sure to let you know,” she offered.

Olivia walked the officers to the door. A knot of dread fisted in her gut as she re-entered the kitchen, preparing to face what would surely be an unhappy Tate. “Look, I know what you’re going to say—”

A dark brow cocked over his violet eyes that were throwing off amethyst sparks like an impending electrical storm. “Oh, I doubt that,” he cut in, leaping to his feet. He crossed the room in three long strides, stopping nose to chest. She cranked her head back, meeting his irate glare. “Tell me, Olivia, are you trying to get yourself killed? I’ve been more than respectful of your free will and have gone beyond my limit of patience with you. I will no longer sit by and wait for you to accept me as your guardian. From now on, we’re doing this my way.”

His way…? Why did that declaration sound so ominous? “What does that mean?” she snapped defensively.

“It means I’m returning to court to petition your free will be revoked.”

She gasped in total and utter outrage. “You can’t do that!”

“If it means keeping you alive, then I most certainly will try!”

“Please, don’t do this!” She wasn’t sure why she even bothered trying to dissuade him. By the stubborn tilt of his chin and his unwavering stare, it was clear his mind was made up.

“You’re not giving me any choice!” he barked with a surprising amount of bite. “Who was the man at the club last night, Olivia? Who stepped up to do my job?”

Was his wounded pride adding insult to injury? His demand for answers was a test, and one she’d fail. Olivia wasn’t sure why she held back Haden’s name—stayed from her lips in a muted confession. At the thought of the half-breed, fear warred with intrigue. Whether she liked the idea or not, she needed him. He was rebellious and just careless enough to tell her the truth when others would hide it from her under the pretense of “her own good.” But Haden wasn’t concerned about her welfare, as long as she lived long enough to get him to the stone, and that was in her favor as much as to her detriment.

With Tate throwing around threats she knew were not idle, the angel was proving to be just as big a threat as the surly Nephilim—perhaps more. At least Haden wasn’t proposing to take her free will from her. She knew where she stood with the Nephilim and exactly what he wanted from her—Immanuel’s Stone.

“Not going to tell me, are you?” he challenged. “Look, I’m not trying to govern you, Olivia—”

“Well, it sure as hell feels like it. If you do this to me…if you take away my free will, then you’re no better than Liam. Why don’t you just take the rest of my memories while you’re at it and then I can be a mindless little puppet for you to control. I bet I’ll even dance for you and everything.”

With a snarled oath, Tate disappeared. Whether he blocked her sight or truly left, she couldn’t know. Standing alone in her kitchen, Olivia felt like the tenuous world she’d worked so hard to re-erect over the past few months was about to come crumbling down on her—again.