The Fire Within (8 page)

She eyed him speculatively. “You have no pictures.”

He paused, studying her. “Excuse me?”

“You have no pictures on your walls.” She answered without turning around. “No softness. No color. Not one thing that would let an observer know about your life. No family photos on the end tables, no prints on the walls to brighten them. The kinds of things that make a house a home.”

He straightened up and walked back into the kitchen for the gravy boat. He ladled some sauce into it and then carried it carefully into the dining room. “Maybe I don’t like clutter on my walls.”

“Maybe you just don’t want to let anyone in.”

He stared back, his expression shuttered. She was right; he had no pictures of anything that might suggest he had a life outside of his work. The pictures Lillian had taken and hung around the place had gone with her to her new house, the one she shared with Jerry. Dante kept his family photos downstairs in the family room—his favorite room in the house. He saw no need to put up pictures of anything anywhere else. This house was just a place he came to crash when he wasn’t at work, and between his two jobs Dante worked a lot. “Dinner is ready.” He sat at the table, effectively cutting off the conversation.

She sat at the table too, watching closely while he spooned out the piping hot pasta onto her plate. “What is it you don’t want people to know?”

He should have known she wouldn’t let the topic drop. He stared at her, wondering whether or not he should let her in on his secret. “I think you know.”

“Lillian?”

He blinked, startled. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. He thought she’d come to a completely different conclusion, like he wasn’t the simple cop he appeared to be. “Did your homework, huh?”

She grinned, a lopsided one he wanted to kiss away. “You were
really
annoying during Abby’s case.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.” One cheek went hollow. She was biting the inside of it, desperately trying not to laugh.

He mock glared at her, hoping she caught on. “Was not.”

She snorted. “Oh, please. Threaten to throw me in jail, huh?” She pointed her fork at him. “How fast do you think Lakisha Purvis would have gotten your mama on the phone?”

He shuddered. Just the thought was horrible. “You wouldn’t.”

“I have Italian friends. I know all about Italian mamas.” Her grin was god damn evil. “Oh, hell yes, I would.”

He snorted out a laugh. “
Mangia
. We’ll talk after.”

Her gaze was almost predatory. She wasn’t going to let a perceived mystery go, no matter what Dante said.

Gabriel had told him to work with her. If revealing what he was made her trust him more, Dante would do it. He needed to let her know, here in the safety of his home, that the perpetrator they were hunting wasn’t human. He had to trust that she could take care of herself, even if he didn’t want to think about a Shem near her.

Maybe he could get her a sniper rifle. Two miles of distance
might
be enough to satisfy his protective streak.

She picked up a few pieces of pasta with her fork and blew delicately onto them. He could imagine those soft, full lips blowing on something else. She moaned in pleasure as she bit into the pasta, and he was forced to hold himself still.

He wanted to jump over the table, pull her onto the boring beige carpet and fuck her until she screamed.

“This is very good.” She sounded surprised. “What brand sauce is it?”

He swallowed hard and tried to focus on something other than her mouth. “Benedetto.”

“Huh. Never heard of it. Did you buy it in a specialty store?” She took another bite of the pasta, that obscene moan passing her lips once more.

Dante coughed. The woman was a god damn menace and didn’t even know it. “It’s homemade.”

“Wow. Good looking
and
can cook.” She glanced at her plate. “Okay,
very
good cook. Tell your mother she should bottle this and sell it. She’d make a fortune.” She took another bite and sighed in satisfaction.

“She’d kill me if I tried to sell it. It’s the ‘old family recipe’ thing.” He pictured his petite, dark mother with her wooden spoon and the wicked, sparkling smile, and grinned. He could almost hear her yelling at him.

She’d rip his balls off if he sold her sauce, and then bellow at him for not giving her grandchildren.

Beth shrugged. “Too bad. You could make a fortune on people like me.”

Dante shook his head. “What good would it do me? I’d be dead.”

“If you ever decide to go for it, put me in your will. Remember, I came up with the idea in the first place.”

“Okay. It will read, ‘P.S., Rand gets nothing ’cause she got me killed.’”

She grimaced. “Gee, thanks a lot.”

Dante cleared the plates. He caught her reaching for the last bite of the pasta in the bowl just as he lifted it away and had to smother a grin at her disappointed look. “Wait. Dinner isn’t over yet.” He walked into the kitchen, ignoring the question in her eyes, and returned with a salad. He put some salad on her plate, some on his own then settled back into his chair. He picked up his fork and began to eat again.

Elizabeth stared at the salad with some confusion. “I thought the salad came before the main course?” She picked up her fork and began to eat. A dreamy look crossed her face. “Do you make your own salad dressing too?”

“Yes, and in Italian households the salad comes after the pasta. At least, in my mother’s household.”

“So, could Lillian cook?” Elizabeth winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She had to know his divorce had been acrimonious. Lillian had cheated on him and walked out on him.

Lillian was not a topic he enjoyed discussing.

Thank God he’d never revealed what he was to his ex. And thank God they hadn’t had children together. He could just imagine what she would have done with a Neph child. “No.”

Elizabeth nodded uncomfortably and turned her attention back to her salad, the easy camaraderie they’d established earlier in the evening gone. Elizabeth obviously felt guilty about bringing up Lillian. He’d have to see what he could do about easing the sudden tension between them.

“Considering your history with private investigators I understand why you were so reluctant to work with me.”

He sighed. He should have known better. “With Purvis out of the picture, however briefly, I can use the help. Can I ask you something?” She shrugged. “Why didn’t you become a cop?”

Elizabeth smiled cynically. “Because I don’t like being pressured to find the bad guy by some politico who thinks he knows how to do my job.”

“You’d rather be threatened by some client who’s unhappy with how quickly you’re moving on something?”

“I’d rather be fired by one client than the entire state of Delaware simply because I messed up.” She leaned forward earnestly. Dante was startled at the determination he saw in her gaze. It was the same way he felt when he hunted a bad guy, or went after a Shem. “I do what I do because I believe in it. I do everything I can to help my clients find resolutions to their problems, from cheating husbands to murderers. If I get a missing child case, I’m not going to give up on it simply because some bureaucrat tells me there’s not enough money in the budget to keep looking. I’ll look until I find something, anything, to give that family some peace of mind. I can go where the police can’t go, do things they won’t do, because technically I’m a private citizen. If I can work with the police, great. If not, I’ll do it myself, and I
will
find who did this. You want to work with me?” She leaned back in her chair again. “Then you understand one thing. I am as committed to finding out who killed Jennifer Blake, and why, as you are. Can you live with that?”

He nodded. Elizabeth was someone he could respect, someone who was worthy of his secrets. “I can live with it.” He leaned back in his chair. “There’s something I need to—” Her phone began beeping insistently. “Important call?”

She frowned and pulled out her phone. “Rand.” The smile that crossed Elizabeth’s face as she listened had him taking a deep, calming breath.

Whoever it was, she was extremely fond of that person.

Dante got up and cleared the plates, trying to get a grip on his emotions. He wanted to find the person who’d put that look on her face and rip their lungs out through their asshole. He should be the only one she thought of with that expression, the only one she smiled for.

He stopped, his hands gripping the edge of the counter. “
Figlio di puttana
.” This could not end well.

He was falling in love with Elizabeth Rand.

Fuck.

When the hell had
that
happened?

“Hey, Dante? Can we continue this tomorrow?” He turned to find her pulling on her coat, her purse resting on the dining room table. “Andi just called. She’s got a night off for once, and she really needs to decompress, so we’re heading out dancing.”

Dancing? Where other men could see her, watch her move?

Oh,
hell
to the no.

He hoped his expression was appropriately bland as he asked his all-important question. “Where are you two headed?”

Her grin reminded him of a shark. A hungry one. “Nightlife.”

Dante gritted his teeth. The place was a meat market, one he’d gone to himself when he needed to let off some steam. “Have a good time.”

“Thanks.” She buttoned up her jacket and headed for the front door. “Dante?”

“Hmm?” He left the dishes for later. He’d be going out tonight.

“Thanks for dinner.” She opened the door and winked at him. “We definitely have to do this again.”

He watched as she climbed into her car. “You bet your sweet ass we will.” And next time she wouldn’t be leaving.

Chapter Six

“Aren’t you glad I talked you into this?” Andi asked, laughing as Beth fluffed her hair behind her. She was sweating like a pig, and about as happy.

Beth grinned. She’d needed this, needed to get on a dance floor and move to the beat. Usually she went with Sam or Kaley, but it was nice to get to see Andi cut loose for once. The brunette was normally buttoned up and polished to within an inch of her life, a requirement for her job. She looked nothing like the sleek executive assistant she was in her professional life.

The cold and ruthless Piotr would probably die of shock if he ever saw his assistant like this.

But when Andrea Hancock decided to cut loose, she broke out the body hugging jeans and the tight T-shirts, huge gold bangles on her wrists and in her ears. Even her hair went a little wild, pulled back into a ponytail that whipped around her in a frothy mass of brown curls. This was the Andi Beth had grown up with, the one who threw punches with the best of them and fought like a tiger for her friends. This was the one who’d shown up to school with bruises and a huge chip on her shoulder, the one whose parents didn’t know smoked weed when she could get away with it, a habit Beth had helped her break. This was the woman who’d defied her parents, refusing to become a doctor. Instead, she’d chosen to become one of the powers behind the throne, an indispensable part of the corporate machine. Without her, Piotr Romanov would discover that his ordered life became a disorganized hell.

How Andi danced in those four-inch heels Beth would never know. If Beth tried it she’d wind up right on her ass. “Yes, I am. Thanks, Andi.”

“I think we both needed this.”

Beth was willing to bet that Andi needed to get out far more than she did. It had to kill Andi to know that the one man she’d ever loved didn’t see her as a woman. Hell, Beth was pretty sure Andi was the one who arranged for Piotr’s presents to be sent to Ms. Right Now.

Andi shook her head at another man who approached her. It didn’t surprise her that Andi attracted men like flies to honey. She’d managed to wave several of them off, and Beth had been fascinated by how Andi handled it. She couldn’t detect any hostility in any of the men Andi turned down. Beth was usually far more direct and abrupt if someone came on to her. She had no desire to pick up a man for the night.

Visions of Dante filled her mind. Him, she wouldn’t mind picking up. She leaned against the booth and stared out over the dance floor, wishing a certain burly cop was there with her.

There was something about Dante that made her want to curl up on his lap and purr like a kitten. She shook her head. The very thought should have steeped her in rage-filled horror. Elizabeth Rand was no man’s kitten. She was a strong, independent woman who worked her ass off in a man’s world. She’d never let herself fall for anyone, even as a teenager. She’d had too much damn work to do to fall in love. She still did.

But...

Dante was different. The cop might understand the odd hours, the constant obsession with finding the truth. And if her suspicions about him were correct, it wasn’t just human bad guys he went after. His hours were probably more insane than hers.

“You want a fresh drink?” Andi asked.

“Yes, please.” Beth watched as her friend went to the bar, smiling and waving off yet another round of disappointed men. At least Andi was savvy. She wouldn’t leave an open drink unattended, wouldn’t allow anyone to take her out of the building. Beth could relax—Andi could take care of herself.

Beth wasn’t alone for long either. A tall dark-haired man slid into the booth with an oily smile. “Hey, sweetheart.” His voice was slurred, his movements choppy. “Noticed you sitting here all by yourself and thought maybe you’d like some company.”

Beth snorted in disgust. The guy was obviously plastered. He reeked of alcohol and hair product. “You’ve
got
to be kidding me.”

The man tried to throw his arm over the back of the booth and missed.

She waved her hand in front of her face in a vain attempt to dispel the fumes.

“C’mon, you know you want a good time. I saw how you danced out there.” He leaned closer and she backed away rapidly. His breath could be considered a fire hazard. “You wanna come home with me and suck my cock?”

She stared at him, fascinated. He couldn’t actually think that would work, could he? “Not particularly.” Beth started looking around for Andi. She could see her friend over by the bar, talking to the bartender. She hoped it wouldn’t take her too much longer to get the drinks.

It had been a mistake to take her eyes off the skeeze-weasel. She turned, startled, to see that he’d slid along the half-round booth until he was right next to her, his hand landing on her thigh and trying to make its way to Happy Town. “C’mon, baby. You know you want it.” He leaned over her and tried to kiss her.

“Ugh!” Beth turned her head away in disgust, and threw his hand off her thigh. She stood up, quivering with outrage. “What the hell have you been drinking, liquid ass?”

He glared at her as he stood. “What the hell?”

“That had to be the lamest excuse for a pick-up line I have ever heard in my life. I got better ones in grade school. Next time you want to try and get in some girl’s pants I suggest you be sober, because asses shouldn’t try and talk.” She turned to walk away, when she felt her arm grabbed from behind, the man’s hand squeezing hard enough to leave a mark. He spun her around and slammed her into the wall.

“You just wait one god damn minute! No one talks to me like that!”

Beth twisted her arm, trying to get free. He was hurting her, but she’d be damned if she’d let him know that. “Let go of me, or I swear you’ll be crawling out of here without your balls.”

The ape just pulled her closer, and as Beth readied herself for a fight she saw a flash of red behind him.

Next thing she knew, the guy was sprawled facedown on the bench of the seat, a black clad knee in the small of the man’s back, his hands held behind him in a classic police hold. Shock jolted through her as Dante held the man, his eyes almost black with fury. “I think the lady said to let go.”

Beth heard the icy, restrained violence in Dante’s voice. Apparently, the drunk heard it too. “Okay, man, okay. I’ll leave her alone, just get off me.”

Dante let him up, but watched the man stagger away with a blazing, furious expression that would have scared the shit out of a stronger woman than her. For just a second, Beth could have sworn flames licked his arms.

At one time in her life, Beth would have thought she was hallucinating, but not anymore. Not after seeing Seth in all his angelic glory. “I was right. You’re one of them.”

Dante turned to face her, his expression still partly furious, then nodded. “Yeah. I was going to tell you about it tonight, but you left before I could.”

Beth surreptitiously rubbed her sore arm. The guy had held her so hard she was afraid she’d have a bruise later. “Thanks.” She shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. She had a brown belt. She should have taken the asshole out herself. “For saving me.”

For one incredible moment the sounds of the club disappeared. All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat as she stared into his dark, heat-filled gaze.

“You’re welcome.” The rich tones of his voice rolled over her, and she felt herself shiver in reaction. There was something in his voice that hadn’t been there before, something that made her want to offer up what that asshole had tried to steal. But before she could explore it, his cell phone chirped. He checked the display and cursed.

“Problem?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, but I have to go.” He caressed her cheek softly, but his tone demanded she obey his command. “Stay safe, Elizabeth.”

As he walked away she blew out a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. “You too, Dante.” The crowd swallowed him up, and she prayed he wasn’t going out hunting monsters alone. “You too.”

* * *

Seth was ghosting over the alleyway, flashing in and out of sight when he had a visual on the Shem Angelus they’d been tracking for weeks now. The Shem had so far eluded them, but hunger or stupidity had finally brought him out of hiding, allowing Dante and his brothers to track him.

Unfortunately, Dante and Damien couldn’t keep up with the flying Angelus, so they were sticking to the main roads. Dante kept watch overhead, catching fleeting glimpses of Seth when he made a quick, glowing appearance. It was a trick they’d utilized more than once in the past. Damien was pushing his little sports car to its limits to keep Seth in sight, and Dante kept his eye out for those little flashes of blue that told him his brother had spotted their prey.

The Shem had chosen to hunt in a diner near a fifty-five-plus community, of all things, feeding off two elderly people who hadn’t had a clue that their last meal would involve undercooked hash browns and soggy waffles with too much syrup. They’d been alerted by one of Damien’s warning systems that two epileptic deaths had occurred right outside the diner in Middletown, and Gabriel had sent them immediately to check it out, ruining Dante’s chance to dance with Elizabeth.

For that alone the Shem needed to meet a painful, fiery death.

Unlike his victims, the Shem apparently liked his waffles topped with chocolate chips, because that’s what he’d been eating when they’d found him. He’d taken off running the moment he saw Seth, scaring the piss out of the humans who were in his way. At least he’d had the sense to keep his wings furled. Not even the Shemyaza wanted the humans to figure out what walked among them. Their easy hunting grounds would disappear if humans figured out they were walking, breathing Happy Meals to a bunch of horror movie monsters.

There. The double flash of Seth’s normally invisible wings meant the Shem had been cornered.

Angelus like Seth were able to hide from sight, a gift that allowed them to hide from humans while in flight. And the wings of a Neph Angelus, indeed their very souls, seemed to be made of light, making them highly visible when they didn’t choose to hide. Seth’s wings glowed with a blue light that made Dante’s heart ache from their sheer beauty every time he saw them.

The wings of a Shem Angelus, on the other hand, were made of shadows and fear. Their glow was diminished to a dark, pulsing haze filled with oozing green streaks, making their monstrous appearance seem twice the size of other Shem. Their shadowy wings also helped hide their presence when in flight, masking them against the dark sky.

Worst of all, their feeding pattern killed their victims quickly, making them difficult to hunt. Unlike the Chameleon that had tried to feed off Abby, Shem Angelus didn’t linger, making their victim suffer over time. Oh, no. They fed off the life force of their victims in one quick attack, swooping down and terrifying the poor human before unleashing their inner darkness. The victim suffered through what looked like a savage series of convulsions. Once drained, the victim lay in a twisted heap, broken by their own body.

Damien screeched through a yellow light that had Dante white-knuckling the dashboard. “Pull my gun out and get the safety off.”

Dante did as told, pulling Damien’s registered, specially modified .357 out and flicking off the safety. The bullets were handmade and quenched in holy water, specifically for fighting Shem. “Pull over there.”

Within seconds they were running for Seth. Dante handed the gun to his brother as they reached the fight.

The two Angelus were fighting sword to sword, one light, one dark, the Shem’s green miasma leaving slimy, rapidly dissipating contrails in the wake of his movements. His smoky wings obscured Seth for a second, scaring the piss out of Dante.

Dante pulled his flame around him. His arms ignited, ready to hurl fire at the enemy. His body heated, his Seris nature taking over as Seth reeled back, bleeding, one wing drooping. He’d taken a hit, but he was still standing, still fighting.

Dante flung his hands out, one after the other, punching the air in rapid-fire movements that sent small balls of flame toward the enemy.

The Shem dodged, but Dante scored a hit—real smoke rose from its dark wings. The Shem glared at him and snarled. “Seris.”

“Asshole.” Dante flamed the son of a bitch again, driving it away from his wounded brother.

The Shem laughed, the sound desperate as Dante scorched him over and over again. “Your woman won’t survive the week.”

Dante paused, startled, just long enough for the Shem to dart into the air. Only one face came to mind at the Shem’s threat, and it wasn’t his ex-wife.

“Son of a—” Damien got off a shot or two at the fleeing Angelus, but it was gone, lost in the night. With Seth’s wing wounded, they had no way to chase after it.

Damien turned on him, his expression furious. “What the hell was that? Why did you let it get away?”

Dante gritted his teeth. It was a valid question, but the warning about Elizabeth had his flame threatening to burn out of control. “It said
my woman
.”

Seth rolled his shoulders, wincing at his wounded wing. “You don’t have a woman.”

Dante didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not when...

How did the Shem know? It couldn’t know. It was an Angelus, not an Oracle able to see the future. Unless...

Unless it had been hunting
them
.

Dante began swearing in Italian.

Damien grimaced. “Shit. I don’t think it’s working alone.”

Seth furled his wings, his light diminishing until the only reminder left of them were the two huge wing tattoos emblazoned on his back. He tugged on the shirt he’d stuffed into his back pocket before responding. “Wait. Dante has a girlfriend?”

“Yup.” Damien grabbed hold of Dante’s arm and dragged him—still swearing—back to the car. “Get in, lover boy. You can fill us in on the way back to Seth’s car.”

As much as he’d like to continue chasing the Shem who’d threatened Elizabeth, that wasn’t going to happen. “Fine, yeah, I’m going.” Dante grumbled but climbed into the car. Seth piled into the back seat, pulling the blanket Damien always had waiting for him over his shoulders.

“So.” Seth’s teeth were chattering hard enough that Dante could hear them over the sound of Damien starting the car. “Give. Who’s the girl, and how are we going to protect her?”