Knock Em Dead (Supernatural Security Force Book 2)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “They don’t handle these things directly,” Jax argued.

  “I know.” I met his eyes and added, “Then he blew the place up on his way out.”

  Jax grimaced. “I saw something on the news, but they spun it. Car bomb. Human terrorist attempt.”

  “It was a wipeout,” I said, and Jax swore, moving to pour himself a double shot.

  I took a swig of my own drink for good measure.

  “They haven’t used a wipeout since—” He broke off, trying to calculate.

  “I know,” I said quietly.

  He refocused on me, his gaze sliding over my body in a way that felt much more intimate than any of the flirting he’d done. Worry lines creased his forehead. “But you’re all right.”

  “I’m all right. Lester’s all right. But—” I bit my lip.

  I so did not want to mix these two worlds of mine. But I had to find Adrik. To check on him. And I couldn’t exactly bring—shit, she still needed a name.

  “What is it?” Jax asked warily.

  “Adrik. My boss,” I said, hating how weird it felt to try and label him. Especially to Jax.

  “The Nephilim? What about him?” Jax’s tone was careful now, and that made it even worse.

  “We had some trouble out on route forty.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “A level six. Or maybe six hundred. I don’t know.”

  “Fucking hell. Another one?”

  “Fucking hell,” the baby repeated.

  We ignored her.

  As a parent, it was important to pick your battles.

  “It wasn’t the same one,” I told him. “This one looked like a lizard. And a guy. And maybe a bat? It was weird. Anyway, Adrik took off with it to give me a chance to get Lester out of there, and he hasn’t checked in since.” My gaze slid to the little one between us. “I need to make sure he’s okay.”

  Jax’s shoulders sagged, and I couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or relief. Like maybe he’d been expecting me to say something else.

  “Fergie,” he said finally.

  “What?” I asked.

  He pointed at the little murderer currently gnawing away at her doggie bone. “Her name is Fergie.”

  “You named her without me?” Out of all the things that had happened to piss me off today, this was the thing that would send me over the edge.

  “Trust me, it wasn’t my first choice,” he said as he plucked her off the couch and set her on her feet.

  “She can stand now?” I asked, disappointed I’d missed the milestone.

  “Uh-uh, you don’t get to complain about missing milestones. Not when you failed to mention she had a full mouth of razor teeth.”

  I smiled sweetly. “Must have slipped my mind. I hope she didn’t draw blood.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Your worry is touching.”

  “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to Fergie’s devoted Daddy.”

  He snorted. “Speaking of devotion, she can do more than stand after my dedicated parenting today. Just watch.”

  He pulled out his phone and hit a few buttons. Music filled the room, and the little monster at his feet opened her mouth and began singing.

  Every. Damn. Word.

  No more baby gurgling or mumbling or trying to sound things out.

  She nailed every line and every bar to Fergalicious.

  And not just the words but the moves, too.

  I stared at her, jaw hanging, trying to decide if I’d ever seen anything more insane than the sight of this pink-skinned demon child rapping and twerking to a song that hit pop charts more than a decade ago.

  I didn’t think so.

  Jax stopped the music, and Fergie—my demon Fergie, not the real one—immediately fell silent again. She blinked up at Jax, and her smile was almost innocent. But I wasn’t fooled. It was the same look she’d used on me when I’d found her feasting on poor Patrice.

  “Okay,” I said finally. “Fergie it is.” My eyes narrowed. “Unless, of course, she has a similar response to Post Malone or Ariana Grande or—”

  “Just Fergie,” he assured me. “It’s fucking weird.”

  As if to prove it, he hit a few more buttons on his phone, and softer music began. Something jazzier and much sexier than before. Fergie made a face of disapproval before crawling onto the couch and snuggling in against the cushions as if succumbing to a lullaby.

  I looked back at Jax, but his expression held something different now. Something a lot less . . . parental.

  He stalked slowly toward me, his hand snaking around my waist as he leaned down, hips swaying in a sort of dance. “I was worried when I didn’t hear from you,” he murmured.

  His lips were close, so close I could feel his breath.

  Resistance melted away.

  My hand came up to clutch his shirt, and I leaned into his body.

  “You were?” I whispered, lost in the pools of his bedroom eyes.

  “Mmhmm.” His mouth drifted closer, brushing over my cheek.

  From the couch came the soft sounds of snoring.

  My mouth quirked. Jax’s did the same.

  His eyes never left mine, but he also didn’t move to kiss me. Like he was waiting to see what I’d do. And I had the distinct feeling this was about a lot more than a kiss. If we started—it wouldn’t end there. It wouldn’t end at all.

  We both jumped as something heavy shook the floor. The windows rattled from the outside, and the guards began to yell.

  Fergie didn’t budge from the couch as we hurried past her into the hall. Voices rose, and the front door slammed open. Jax and I stopped short in the foyer. Broad shoulders blotted out the moonlight, creating the silhouette of a man in the entryway. He snarled at the guards behind him then turned, his massive wings hanging limp from his broad shoulders.

  Adrik.

  Chapter Nine

  Relief filled me. I rushed forward, bumping Jax out of the way and shoving the guards aside with a snarl that sent them reeling and stumbling.

  Adrik’s chest was torn open, and blood, some fresh and some dried, coated nearly every inch of him. His eyes were bloodshot and exhausted, but the power rolling off him was as untamed as ever. I reached a tentative hand toward the worst-looking incision along his right shoulder.

  “You’re hurt.”

  He didn’t flinch from my touch, but I could see a pain reflected in his gaze as our eyes locked. After a long moment, he tore his gaze from mine and locked eyes with something behind me and stared hard.

  I tensed.

  “You must be Adrik.” Jax strolled forward, the picture of confidence as he extended a hand.

  At his friendly greeting, the guards finally backed off, but Adrik wasn’t impressed. Adrik grunted and otherwise ignored the gesture.

  Jax lowered his arm without batting a lash.

  “She’s told me so much about you,” Jax said, and while his words were polite, his tone implied more. That we’d become close enough for me to share things with him.

  Adrik glared.

  Jax glared back.

  Clearly, they were going to take their time making this some kind of stare down. I debated letting them have their moment, but the blood on Adrik wasn’t something I could ignore while they each took turns pissing on my shoes.

  “Jax, do you have a first aid kit?” I asked.

  “I don’t need—” Adrik began.

  “In the kitchen,” Jax said, and I didn’t even care that he looked smug about the chance to help the Nephilim bleeding on his doorstep. To have Adrik owe him for something.

  Alpha males were fucking weird.

  “This way.” I looped my arm around Adrik’s shoulders and helped him lean on me as we followed Jax through the house. I purposely kept my body angled between Adrik and the living room doorway as we passed by. If he noticed Fergie asleep on the couch, he didn’t show it, but I also knew that was its own ticking time bomb.

  Motherhood in the workplace was a political soapbox I’d gla
dly stand on. Stealing and adopting demon babies was another issue altogether.

  In the kitchen, Jax motioned to the small breakfast table tucked in beside the window. I steered Adrik there while Jax strode to the cabinets on the far side of the space. I helped Adrik lower himself into the nearest chair, frowning at the careful way he moved his body.

  I’d never seen a Nephilim injured like this before. Or at all.

  They were supposed to be invincible.

  Jax returned with the first aid kit and handed it over. I looked up at him, noting the hard stare he used on Adrik then me. “I’ll give you both some privacy,” he said shortly.

  “Jax,” I began, but he was already heading for the hall and calling out orders for some help fixing the front door that had apparently been knocked off a hinge.

  Adrik was quiet while I began sifting through the first aid kit for bandages and antiseptic.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Adrik said when I reached for his wounded shoulder with a disinfectant wipe. “My body will heal itself.”

  I arched a brow. “You mean like it’s healing itself now?”

  When he scowled, I pressed the wipe to the cut.

  Adrik hissed, and I bit back a satisfied smile as I went to work cleaning and bandaging his various injuries.

  “There’s venom inside,” I said, peering closely at the gauze coated in thick yellow ooze. “That’s why you’re not healing.”

  “Level sevens are toxic even to Nephilim,” he explained. “It’ll heal. Just takes longer.”

  Seven? Had I heard that right?

  I bit my lip and went back to patching him up.

  Jax didn’t return, and a few minutes later, the orders he was snapping stopped, and the house was silent.

  “How did you find me?” I asked.

  “I followed your scent.”

  Finished with his arms and chest, I leaned in and wiped at the dried blood coating Adrik’s throat. His breath on my chin sent a shiver through me that made me falter. My eyes raised to his, and I found him already studying me. The lines on his face deepened as he inched closer.

  My breath hitched, and I tried not to think about what I was going to do if Adrik kissed me in Jax’s kitchen.

  A gust of power hit, scattering the bandages spread over the table.

  I blinked and backed away.

  Adrik frowned, looking past me to the doorway. I turned, but it was empty. Farther in, a floorboard creaked.

  Turns out I wouldn’t have to do anything. Jax had done it for me.

  Adrik sighed, and I went back to cleaning and bandaging.

  “I’m assuming the other guy looks worse,” I said.

  Adrik snorted, and my brows shot up in surprise.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a Nephilim snort.”

  His mouth lifted crookedly before flattening again.

  I kept my attention on the blood—and not on how close to his face I’d gotten. But the longer I remained with my hands on his bare skin, the thicker the air became. The tension between us became an invisible force, and my fae side only made it worse. I knew from past experience, mine was a lust Adrik would taste on the air.

  Suddenly, his hand shot up and closed around my wrist. I braced myself for him to push me away, but he yanked me close instead. The surprise of it sent me careening forward.

  Right into his lap.

  He caught me easily, settling me on his thigh with an arm braced around my hip, his other hand still wrapped around my wrist. Which wasn’t necessary since it was currently limp from shock.

  Other parts of me, however, were responding without a problem.

  Adrik leaned in and pressed his nose to my throat, inhaling deeply. Finally, he blew out a breath, his shoulders sagging.

  “I’m relieved to see you unharmed,” he said, and I realized the strain in his expression wasn’t from physical pain but from worry.

  The second man in the span of an hour worried sick about my safety. Damn, I was in deep.

  “I’m okay. Spent the day in the bayou. After the sun went down, I brought Lester here. He’ll be safe with his pack.”

  Adrik swallowed hard.

  “I went back to pick up your trail, and . . .” He blew out a breath. “I followed your scent for a while, but you kept doubling back, and then I lost you to the scent of werewolf. It was strong. As if marking its territory.” His lip curled in disgust.

  “You mean Lester and his weak bladder?” I asked, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, he needed a potty break like every three feet. But other than that, we had no trouble.”

  His relief was so obvious my laughter vanished.

  I pressed a tentative hand to his stubbled cheek. “I was worried about you too. When you didn’t check in, I—”

  His half-lidded eyes held mine intensely, and I could feel his body responding to me in a way I knew I’d dream about for the rest of my spinster nights.

  Now, the lust was something even I could taste.

  My body ached, straining to give in to it.

  Adrik’s eyes flashed knowingly. He growled as if to remind that ache who was the boss.

  And then he kissed me.

  A brushing of his mouth on mine that wasn’t soft so much as savoring. A blanket of power curled in around us. Not like before. This was more . . . caressing. Like a second set of hands, it rubbed in all the right places and sent my head spinning.

  Holy shit. They hadn’t been joking about that Nephilim sex-energy.

  “Gem,” he said, his voice rough.

  “Yeah?” I asked, my head swimming and my body straining for more.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  I tried to hide my disappointment because unless he wanted to use his body to do it, a conversation was not where I wanted things to go.

  Jax’s house, I reminded myself. We were in Jax’s house.

  Probably not the best way to pay back my hot-as-hell not-baby-daddy by having table-destroying sex with a Nephilim in his breakfast nook.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He sighed as if resigning himself to whatever came next. His hand on my wrist tightened. “Kristoff Rasmussen.”

  I drew back, the words sobering me instantly. Any lingering lust dried up like a puddle in the desert. I couldn’t think past the name he’d just uttered.

  My heart pounded, and I swore silently at my stupidity. On his lap, I was vulnerable. Way too close. And there was no way he wouldn’t hear my racing heart or sense my fear at being found out.

  Then again, he was Nephilim.

  I could have stood on the roof, and he’d have sensed those things.

  “I was there, Gem.” His words were gentle, but the possibility of what he might be saying—of what he planned to do with this information—had me panicking.

  I struggled to stand, but he held me in place, watching my expression like I was some kind of science experiment.

  “I know,” I said quietly.

  “You do?”

  “I recognized you when you flew off to battle that lizard demon.”

  “And you didn’t say anything?”

  Heat rose, flushing my cheeks. “I was getting to it. Besides, you’re one to talk.”

  “You’re right. I . . . I should have told you. I’m sorry.” He squeezed his eyes shut like he regretted it. Or regretted his part in helping me survive.

  “Are you going to tell the council?”

  “What?” His eyes flew open. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “You’re one of them. Duty. Loyalty. Maybe so they don’t keep trying to blow you up?”

  He sighed. “I helped toss those assholes off the cliff that night. And I’d do it again.” The vehemence in his voice leaked into the bubble of power around us, squeezing me like a firm embrace.

  My muscles tensed and flexed.

  I couldn’t decide if his power was a comfort or threat.

  “I�
��m not going to turn you in, Gem. And even if I did, I’m as guilty as you are.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “Why now?

  His gaze raked over my face, an apology in his eyes—another thing I never thought I’d see from a Nephilim. “I couldn’t tell you before because it would lead to more questions. Questions I wasn’t ready to answer about why I was there that night and what made me request you when I took the position I have now. But I think it’s time we talked about all of that. About your father. About you. And about me.”

  I frowned. “What does my father have to do with this?”

  “He’s the reason I was there that night. At the party. And he’s the reason I took this job. The reason I requested you.”

  His admission was the second wipeout of the day—the second bomb being dropped—and my world promptly exploded into a billion pieces.

  All of the pieces scattered, and when they landed again inside my dumbstruck brain, they clicked into place. One by one.

  Adrik was the stranger who’d helped me at The Monster Ball, the masked mystery man who’d saved my life. The one who’d helped me murder Kristoff Rasmussen—and the only witness to a crime that would surely ruin any chance I had left at making detective and regaining the access I needed to track down my father’s killer.

  He was also, apparently, somehow linked to my father. The man whose murder I’d vowed to avenge. All along, he’d known that. What else did he know about my father? About me?

  Instead of asking him, part of me still wanted to rip off his clothes and practice making all sorts of little angel babies right here on this expensive table. But I knew I needed the answers he was offering.

  Out of all the things I thought I wanted to do next, or even might do next, not a single one of them involved explaining my secrets. But apparently, the universe had decided yes, in fact, today could get worse.

  A sound in the doorway drew my attention, and I felt Adrik turn with me. When I saw who stood there, a different sort of shock washed over me. This time with a helping of dread that had me easing off Adrik’s lap and taking a giant step away from the bandaged and brooding Nephilim.

  A pair of beady eyes stared back at us, eye-level thanks to the sling Jax had wrapped her in before strapping it once again to his torso. Adrik made a sound low in his throat, and Jax lifted a hand to her back almost protectively. His eyes were nearly as black as hers. The rage in their depths made them look almost like a DNA match for a split second. Father and daughter, after all.