Avenging Angel

by Cynthia Eden

  And she did stay silent. While Tanner led her outside. While he pushed her into the back of a patrol car. And even while the vehicle raced down the road.

  Silent, but the fury within her continued to build.

  An angel in hell.

  Tanner’s jaw clenched as he led Marna through the busy New Orleans police station. As always, she looked delicate, vulnerable—deceptively so. The woman barely skimmed the top of his shoulders. Her frame was small, slender, but Marna did have some curves he’d admired far too many times.

  Not now.

  Now wasn’t the time for admiring. Now was the time for figuring out how the hell he was supposed to save that curvy ass of hers.

  A few of the cops stepped back when Tanner and Marna approached them. He could tell by the look in their eyes that they thought a mistake must have been made. No way were they looking at the face of a killer.

  A killer shouldn’t have an angel’s face.

  A killer damn well shouldn’t be an angel.

  He glanced down at her, sparing her a brief glance as he led them back to the interrogation room. Her eyes were wide, a pale blue that had haunted his dreams too often. Her cheeks were high, and her chin the slightest bit pointed. Her nose, small and straight, was currently held in the air. Though his angel wasn’t talking, she sure was pissed. He could see the fury in the set of her jaw and in the tightness of her lips.

  Her lips.

  He didn’t even know how many fantasies he’d had about her lips. Should an angel truly have lips that looked like they had been made just for sin?

  Jonathan Pardue, his new partner, whistled as he headed toward them. “This is the woman who killed those men?”

  Marna stiffened. “I didn’t—”

  Tanner’s hold on her tightened. He needed to get her away from all the eyes and ears as fast as he could. If so many cops hadn’t already been aware of the situation, he would have been able to protect her longer.

  But, no, the lady just had to start making her kills public. Shit. She should know better. Most paranormals at least tried to keep their kills in the dark.

  “You know what they say. . . .” Tanner murmured as he plastered a tight smile on his face. He’d been working with Jonathan less than a month. Not nearly long enough to trust the guy with all the secrets he carried. “Appearances can bite you in the ass.” Because if you were fool enough to think a pretty face belonged to an innocent woman, you deserved to get your ass bitten.

  Jonathan laughed and opened the door to the interrogation room. His brown eyes lingered a bit too long on Marna.

  Tanner felt the beast that he carried begin to stir inside of him. Back off.

  “I can help you with this one,” Jonathan said as he tried to follow them into the room. “I’ll be glad to—”

  “Get us some coffee,” Tanner told him as he steered Marna toward the small table. “Then we’ll all settle down and find out just why this lady thought it would be fun to kill.”

  Tanner saw her shoulders tense.

  Jonathan headed out, grumbling about having to fetch shit, but Tanner was just glad the guy was gone. He forced Marna to sit in the wobbly chair—the thing always wobbled and irritated the suspects, a nice bonus, usually. Then he leaned in close and put his mouth right at her ear.

  And he had to fight back the impulse to lick. To taste.

  She’s a killer.

  But then, so was he.

  “I know that you wanted your revenge.” His breath feathered over her ear, and Tanner was close enough to see the small shiver that shook her. “But, dammit, baby, you should have been more careful.” His voice was whisper-soft. “You left two eyewitnesses in that alley.” Eyewitnesses that had provided perfect, matching descriptions of her.

  Because of those witnesses, everyone in the station knew about her. An APB had been put out instantly, and Tanner had known that he had to act. He hadn’t been willing to trust anyone else to bring her in.

  Hell, Marna might have just decided to kill anyone else who’d gone after her.

  He’d had to move, fast, and get her under his control.

  Her head turned, and her eyes met his. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, shifter.” Her voice was as low as his. The room was monitored, and knowing the guys in the station, Tanner had no doubt that other folks were in the next room, watching them through the two-way mirror that lined the left wall.

  But while they could watch, those guys wouldn’t be able to hear anything that was said. Tanner had taken the liberty of disconnecting the audio system before going after Marna.

  Yeah, he knew how to plan ahead. Some days.

  “My brother and his asshole packmates hurt you.” Hurt, such a tame word for the hell they’d put her through. His brother Brandt had cut the wings right from Marna’s back and left her to die in the dirt. Brandt’s packmates hadn’t done a thing to save her. They’d been too busy following Brandt like the fools they were. She’d suffered so much because of the events of that night.

  Wanting a little payback, yeah, he could understand that, but . . . “Did you have to kill them in front of witnesses? I told you that I’d make sure they weren’t threats to you any longer.” Brandt was already dead, courtesy of a fallen angel named Azrael, the most powerful being that Tanner had ever seen. After their battle, there’d literally been nothing left of Brandt.

  Nothing, except the remains of his pack.

  So Marna had decided she wanted her vengeance, and she’d gone after them. But killing them so blatantly? Hell, didn’t the woman realize she had to be careful in a world full of humans? Murdering bastards had to be stopped, damn straight, but they didn’t have to be taken out by her hand.

  He exhaled slowly and kept his body between her and that two-way mirror. He could be her shield, or try to be anyway. “My boss wants you locked up.” He jerked a hand through his hair. “And what do you think will happen to you in jail?”

  She smiled then, and the sight iced his blood. “Nothing.”

  Right. His back teeth clenched. What did she have to be afraid of? It was the poor assholes who’d be locked up with her—they were the ones who needed to fear.

  Someone like her could never see the inside of a jail. He had to make sure things didn’t go any farther.

  But with those witnesses and the story already spreading to the media, he didn’t have a whole lot of options.

  Except . . .

  “You made this too public. Shit, Marna, you’re backing me against the wall here.” He was supposed to uphold the law, but he wasn’t human. Far from it. He knew the score.

  Supernaturals can’t always follow the rules. Jails sure as shit couldn’t hold the most powerful threats out there.

  He had to get the rest of the cops off his back. Off her.

  “I didn’t do anything.” Her voice was still soft, but more anger cracked through the words. “I don’t know who your witnesses think they saw, but it wasn’t me.”

  At her words, he blinked, stunned.

  Tanner remembered the very first lesson he’d learned about her kind. Angels can’t lie.

  Even angels who’d fallen were still bound to tell the truth. Sure, they could twist facts to suit them—they were real good at twisting—but they couldn’t tell a straight-out lie.

  He caught her shoulders and pulled her even closer to him. Her hands were still bound behind her back, and her chin notched up as she faced him.

  “Two members of Brandt’s pack are dead. Their bodies were found in an alley, without so much as a scratch on them.” No scratches, but there’d been plenty of terror to see on the frozen faces of Michael LaRue and Beau Stokes.

  While there might be plenty of paranormals lurking in the shadows of New Orleans, there weren’t very many who could kill with a touch.

  Even fewer who looked like her.

  He thought her face paled as she stared at him, but Marna told him flatly, “I swear to you, it wasn’t me.”

  Then someone sure wanted him
to think it had been.

  Footsteps tapped outside. Jonathan, hurrying back. Tanner leaned forward and unlocked her cuffs. Her breath sighed out as her hands were freed. “Thank you.” The words whispered from her.

  Her scent, fresh flowers, teased his nose. “Don’t be thanking me yet.” Because they weren’t even close to being out of this mess.

  But he owed her, and he couldn’t just leave her to twist in the wind.

  Innocent or not.

  “Trust me.” That was all he had time to say. The door swung open, and Jonathan came sauntering back in, with two cups of coffee cradled in the elbow of one arm.

  Marna didn’t respond to Tanner’s words, but that wasn’t particularly surprising. Trust? From her? Like that would happen any time soon. His angel wasn’t the trusting sort.

  Since her fall, hell, he wasn’t even sure what she’d become.

  Dangerous.

  With a light touch on her shoulder, Tanner pushed her down into the wooden chair once more. They’d have to play the interrogation game, for a while.

  “Here you go, ma’am,” Jonathan said as he slid a Styrofoam cup toward her. Marna didn’t take the drink. He shrugged and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. Sipping his own drink, Jonathan reached for a manila file that had been waiting on the table. “You don’t look like the killing type.”

  The asshole hadn’t brought him any coffee. Jonathan offered him a smug smile, one that vanished as the human flipped open the file and stared back down at the crime scene photos. “I just don’t know how you did it.”

  Marna glanced down at the photos. Because he was watching so closely, Tanner saw the faint widening of her eyes.

  Surprise.

  “No physical signs of attack. No internal injuries,” Jonathan rattled off the death details. “Their hearts simply . . . stopped.”

  Marna shrugged. “Then maybe those men had heart attacks.”

  Jonathan put his cup down on the table. “They were both in their prime, barely mid-thirties. Two guys like that, what? They just both magically had heart attacks? Is that what you want me to believe?”

  “A lot of things magically happen in this city,” Marna murmured.

  Tanner stalked around the table. Didn’t sit. Just crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the two-way mirror, and stared at her. She didn’t look nervous. No nervous twitches or gestures. Too calm. Too cool.

  “Bullshit.” Jonathan leaned toward her. “A lot of things happen because there are just some twisted fucks on the streets.” He glanced down at the crime scene photos and then back at her. “I’ve seen kills like this before. It looks like nothing happened to them, but when we get the tox screen back, are we gonna see something different? ’Cause I’m bettin’ we will.”

  Because Tanner didn’t want to interrogate Marna, he let the human keep going with his questions. The guy was blundering in the dark, so Tanner wasn’t particularly worried about him stumbling onto the truth.

  Unless Marna decided to overshare. She’d better not.

  “I’m bettin’ that you took a needle and shoved it into those poor bastards.” Jonathan’s fingertips tapped on the photos. “You jammed ’em up with something, some drug, and killed them, and just because the ME can’t find the injection site yet doesn’t mean—”

  “It doesn’t mean that she won’t,” Tanner broke in, saying the words he knew he was supposed to say. He had to at least act like he was after her, for those uniforms and brass who were watching. “She’ll find the evidence, and it will be the final nail in your coffin, baby.”

  A faint furrow appeared between Marna’s pale brows. Tanner’s hands fisted. Hell, had he just called her baby again? He’d have to watch that.

  “There will be nowhere for you to go,” Tanner continued as he tried to force his body to relax. The beast inside wanted out. “Your face will be splashed across every paper in the area. Broadcast on every TV. People will find out just exactly what you are.” Because of those witnesses. The ones who’d already been too eager to share with reporters. For the right price, everyone would talk in this town.

  Marna’s hands lifted and flattened on the table. Her head inclined toward the photos. Death hadn’t been kind to the shifters. No wounds were on their bodies, but their faces were frozen in masks of terror. “Those men . . .” She spoke slowly. “They deserved what they got.”

  He really wanted to put his hand over the woman’s mouth.

  Jonathan rocked forward, way too eager. “So you admit that you killed them?”

  “I admit . . .” Her gaze lingered on the photos and then rose slowly. Not to look at Jonathan, but to lock on Tanner. “I admit that they were murdering bastards who enjoyed hurting other people. They were due some punishment.”

  She was not helping the situation.

  Jonathan nodded his head. “And you were just the one to punish them, weren’t you?”

  Did her lips tremble? Her shoulders hunched. In that moment, she looked even more vulnerable than usual. What the hell? Was she playing some game with them?

  Jonathan’s hand slapped on the table. “Weren’t you?”

  She jumped. No game. Marna was afraid.

  “Listen, you—” Jonathan began.

  E-fucking-nough. Tanner’s hand closed around the guy’s shoulder as he surged forward. “Ease up.” His hard grip said now.

  Jonathan whirled to face him. Both of the guy’s brows were up. “Come again?”

  Screw this. “We’re taking a break.” Because he wasn’t sure what would happen if Jonathan kept badgering Marna. A big reveal to the human about all the paranormal creatures running through the city wasn’t an option.

  The legs of Jonathan’s chair groaned as he shoved away from the table. The guy stalked out of the room, not glancing back. Oh, yeah, he was pissed. Whatever.

  Tanner leaned across the table. He only had an instant to make Marna understand the plan he’d just pulled out of his ass. “When I come back . . .” He barely breathed the words. “Come at me.”

  She blinked.

  “Come at me,” he told her again, “or that guy’s gonna try to lock you in a cage tonight.”

  Then he turned and headed after Jonathan.

  The interrogation room door had barely closed before his partner was in his face. “What the hell was that about?” Jonathan demanded, voice rising. “First off, I’m not your errand boy!”

  Tanner waited, one brow rising. There’d be more coming. Any time somebody started with a “first” there was always—

  “And second, yeah, she’s fuckable, but don’t let your dick lead you to screw up this case! That woman in there—”

  A crash sounded from the interrogation room. Tanner stiffened. Showtime.

  Jonathan tried to shove him out of the way so he could head back inside. Right. Like that was gonna happen. Tanner shoved back and the guy went tumbling to the floor. Then Tanner threw open the door to that interrogation room.

  Marna had tossed the table against the wall. The chairs lay scattered on the ground, and she’d ripped one of the table legs out, and driven it right through the two-way mirror.

  Should have been impossible. Those mirrors weren’t made to shatter, but she’d managed to break through it.

  Probably because the lady was using some of that amped-up angel strength of hers, and if he didn’t watch it, she’d be fleeing right out through that second room—now that she’d made herself a little escape path—and racing head-on into a bullpen full of cops.

  “Marna . . .”

  She spun back around with the table leg held up, club-like, in her clenched hands.

  “Guess she’s stronger than she looks,” Jonathan said from behind him.

  Couldn’t that guy ever get off his back?

  In the next instant, Marna charged at them. Proving that she was, indeed, much stronger than she appeared. Because Tanner knew he had to make this look good, he rolled to the ground when the table leg swiped out at him.

  He
r next hit connected with Jonathan, and the guy finally shut up because she knocked him all the way back into the two-way mirror.

  But Jonathan had fast reflexes, for a human, and in the next instant, he had his gun out and aimed right at Marna.

  “No!” Tanner bellowed as he lunged toward the other cop.

  Too late.

  Jonathan fired and the bullet slammed into Marna’s chest.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This wasn’t his plan. Not even damn close. Rage exploded within Tanner, and he drove his fist into Jonathan’s face. This time, when the cop went down, he was unconscious.

  “Don’t ever hurt her again,” Tanner snarled, hands still fisted. His claws were coming out, and they were tearing into the flesh of his palms as he kept his hands fisted.

  “T-Tanner?”

  He stilled. She’d never said his name before. He’d wanted her to, but this way, with pain and fear darkening the word? Hell, no.

  In an instant, he was by her side. The bullet wound wouldn’t kill her. It wouldn’t kill her.

  He had to keep repeating that mantra to himself because his hands were shaking as he lowered her to the floor.

  Angels were tough. They could heal from just about anything.

  But her blood was on his hands.

  Marna pushed against him. “I-I can—”

  Tanner shook his head and forced her to the floor. Other cops were coming toward them. He could hear the rush of their pounding footsteps. This wasn’t his plan, but he could make it work. They had to make it work. “He shot you in the heart.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “That’s the story we’re telling.” Because if they played this scene right, he’d be able to save her angel ass. “And, baby, a shot to the heart will kill a human. It will put an end to the killer who took out those two men in the alley.”

  Understanding filled her blue eyes.

  He put his hands over her chest, the better to cover the wound and make it look like he was fighting to save her. “Get an ambulance!” Tanner yelled. “Our suspect is down!”

  Then he brought his lips close to her ear. “You have to die, baby.” This was their perfect opportunity to get her free. Because if she wasn’t the killer, then someone very powerful was setting her up. Someone who wanted her face splashed all across the media.