by Cynthia Eden
Someone who’d taken her face to commit the murders. Another supernatural.
Marna gave the slightest of nods. His breath expelled in a rush.
Trust. It had to start somewhere. For both of them. Good thing that, unlike angels, shifters could lie. He’d spent most of his life lying.
He stared down at her. Behind him, Jonathan was groaning and trying to rise. He’d deal with that trigger-happy SOB later. For now . . . “She’s bleeding out!”
Other cops raced into the room, but they wouldn’t be able to help her. He’d make sure of that.
Slowly, her eyes began to fall and her breathing slowed. Damn, that woman was a pretty fine actress.
You have to die, baby.
It looked like she was going to do just that.
CHAPTER TWO
Just how long did she have to stay in the morgue? The place reeked of antiseptic and bleach, and Marna was tired of the icy feel of her own skin.
She’d been wheeled down at least thirty minutes ago. Right after she’d been pronounced dead.
A door creaked open. Footsteps thudded toward her. “Marna?”
No mistaking that deep voice. She shoved the sheet aside and leapt off the table. Her clothes—what was left of them—were covered in dried blood.
Tanner’s green gaze swept over her. “You’re looking good, for a dead woman.”
The doctor who’d been so eager to declare her dead stood behind him. The not-so-good doctor glanced nervously over his shoulder and said, “You need to get her out of here, fast.”
She recognized that guy. Like she’d ever be able to forget him or Tanner.
Tall, dark, with a face too much like Tanner’s . . . because he was Tanner’s brother. Cody. That was his name. Only Cody wasn’t a shifter. This guy was a demon doctor. One who’d been ready to lie with no hesitation. Unlike angels, demons always excelled at lying. Maybe because they spent their whole lives hiding what they really were from the rest of the world.
“I wasn’t planning on staying around.” She’d spent more than her share of time with the dead. As an angel of death, the dead had been all she’d known for far too long.
This place, with the empty shells of bodies and the carefully covered scent of decay, it made her remember too many things. Things she wished she could forget.
Cody’s gaze darted back to her. She could see right through the glamour that the guy was trying to use. Demons used glamour all the time—it was how they kept their true selves secret from the humans.
A demon’s real eyes were pitch black. But this guy . . . when humans saw him, they looked into eyes as green as Tanner’s.
A lie.
Once upon a time, this doctor had saved her life. When Tanner had found her broken and bloody in the swamp, Cody had been there with him. The demon had been the one to patch her up.
He’d been scared of her then, too.
Cody glanced away from her. “What are you going to do with her?” he asked Tanner.
“She’s going to get herself out of here,” Marna said. Enough. She’d been in a morgue, for goodness sake. A morgue. Time to ditch this place, and the shifter who kept staring at her way too intently. Like he was starving and she was the best meal option in sight.
Marna headed for the door, but found her path blocked by said shifter.
Tanner shook his head and said, “You’re a dead woman. Cops are staked out at the entrance to the hospital. Don’t you think they’ll notice when you just go waltzing out?”
Did she look stupid? Maybe she was still new to being earthbound, but she’d been around for centuries. Marna knew more than this guy could ever guess. “There’s more than one way out of this place.” She could blend. “I can grab a pair of scrubs and put on a face mask. No one will recognize me. I’ll blend in with the staff and walk away. You won’t see me again.”
“I just risked my job for you. There’s no way I’m just going to let you waltz away from me now.” Tanner crossed his arms over his chest. “With all the evidence in this case, the department had you dead to rights.”
Why did he keep up with the dead bit?
“Those witnesses described every single detail about you.” Tanner’s gaze glittered. “They said you walked right by them. That you were less than five feet away. Being so close, there’d be no mistaking you.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“I know.”
His words had her floundering. Well, if he thought she was innocent, then why—
“Why the hell do you think I did all this?” He waved his hand to indicate the icy morgue. “I had to get you out of that station because, baby, you are being set up.”
She was sure happy to hear he realized that fact. “Stop calling me baby,” she muttered.
A faint line appeared between his brows. “An angel can’t go to jail, so I had to take you out of the equation.”
“Consider me out,” she said.
Cody edged toward the door.
“Out doesn’t mean you’re clear.” Tanner was like a brick wall in her path, big, strong, and totally blocking her exit. “It means you don’t have to worry about cops and reporters trying to dog you, but we sure as hell need to find out who is setting you up.”
She knew that. But she also knew . . . “The only enemies I have are in your brother’s panther pack.”
“Then you’ve got some dead enemies.” This bit came from Cody.
But Tanner shook his head. “No, being what you are, trust me, there are plenty of paranormals in this city who’d want to take you out.”
Marna swallowed. Angel blood was a rare commodity in the paranormal underworld. Vamps would love to drain her. Witches would try to steal her power, but . . . setting her up for murder? How would that help any of the supernaturals?
“Until we find out what’s happening, you’re staying with me,” Tanner told her as he took a step toward her.
Wait—what? Becoming this guy’s 24-7 buddy was not part of her plan. Getting out of the city ASAP? Yes, that was more her agenda. “No, I’m—”
“You’re on someone’s list, angel. To either be taken down . . .”
By getting tossed to the cops? When had she made an enemy who wanted—
“Or taken out.”
Marna straightened her shoulders. She hated feeling helpless. Another new concept for her. She should have been more than able to protect herself, but since losing her wings, she’d suffered a serious power shortage. Did Tanner know the truth? Did he realize what had happened to her?
Angels of death could kill with a touch. Even the Fallen could kill. But she . . .
She’d lost the touch. She’d tried to get it back. Oh, jeez, but she’d tried. She had gone after those men in the panther pack. Marna had tracked and hunted Michael LaRue and Beau Stokes. She’d tried to send those two straight to hell.
Not in that alley. That attack truly hadn’t been her. She’d gone after the shifters weeks before.
But her touch hadn’t worked on them. She couldn’t kill.
She might as well be . . . human.
Emotions and needs battered her all the time. They clawed at her, threatening to rip her apart. She just wanted it all to stop.
Wanted to go back to her old life.
Not going to happen. Stop mourning, move the fuck on. Not her words. The words of another Fallen in the city, Sammael. He wasn’t exactly the comforting type. When he’d come to see her just days before, he hadn’t wasted time with false sympathy. This is your life now. Adjust or die.
Cody opened a closet and pulled out some green scrubs. She was rather surprised that he hadn’t already snuck out. He lifted the scrubs and said, “You’ll need these.”
She took the scrubs. Fine. She’d go with the shifter cop . . . for now. At the first chance she had, Marna would slip away. It was past time to leave this city. She’d go somewhere new—preferably some place that wasn’t soaked in blood. There, she’d be able to start over.
“Won’t someone no
tice,” she asked the question that had to be obvious, “when my body disappears?”
But Tanner just laughed. “This is New Orleans. Do you know how many bodies disappear from morgues here every day?”
And what? Cops just turned blind eyes?
So much madness. This city wasn’t for her. This life wasn’t for her.
Maybe it was time for a new life.
But first, she had to get away.
“They saw you die. You’ll have a death certificate on file,” Tanner continued. “For now, that’s all we need.”
Because the city was used to such madness. No body, no worries.
Swallowing, Marna turned away to pull on the scrubs, and she began to plan her escape.
From the shadows, he stared up at the hospital. The stark walls were bathed in the flashing lights of nearby ambulances. She was inside.
Dead?
Not her.
His hands were shoved deep in his pockets. No one glanced his way, certainly not the handful of cops who milled around the entranceway.
They all bought the story that was circulating among the ranks. A killer . . . taken out by one of their own.
According to the PD grapevine, the lady had gotten violent and attacked two officers. Only she’d been the one to end up on a stretcher as she was rushed to St. Mary’s.
Word had trickled down thirty minutes before that their suspect had died on the operating room table. Cops sure liked to gossip with anyone and everyone.
Tanner Chance hadn’t come out yet. Chance had rushed to the hospital with Marna and stood guard over her like some protective giant. Despite the news of her death, he still hadn’t shown his face.
When he’d first rushed to the hospital, the cop’s fingers had been covered in her blood. Fitting, since Tanner Chance and his brothers had always shown such a taste for violence.
He turned away from the scene. Chance wouldn’t be coming out that front exit. The cop wasn’t exactly new to this game. It didn’t matter, though. Chance wasn’t going to stop him.
Slowly, carefully, he made his way toward the small employee entrance on the far left of the building. An entrance that had stairs that led up to the general floors of the hospital, as well as a stairwell that snaked down to the morgue.
As he approached, he finally caught sight of Chance. Climbing into a black SUV, with a small figure beside him. A figure who’d tried to shove her blond hair under one of those white, cloth caps that doctors wore in operating rooms.
The vehicle’s engine growled to life and it shot out of the lot before he could even take a few steps toward them.
Escape.
Laughter slipped from him. Oh, this was going to be good.
Just how long would it be before Chance’s taste for violence showed itself again? Just how long did the lost angel have before the shifter turned on her?
Not long at all.
Pretty soon, Marna would be exactly where he wanted her, and Chance would be the one growing ice cold in a morgue. Only the shifter wouldn’t be playing some kind of possum like Marna had obviously been doing.
He’d be on his way to hell.
Streaks of dawn’s light were sliding across the sky when Tanner opened the door to his home for Marna. She hadn’t spoken much during the ride over, but once they got inside, he had a feeling the fireworks would be erupting.
He could practically feel the lady’s rage.
And her kind wasn’t exactly supposed to feel much.
The door clicked closed behind them. She walked around the foyer—okay, what would one day be the foyer. Right then, the house was a piece of crap. He knew it. The antebellum had barely survived the last storm, and the ex-owners had been more than ready to dump the place into his hands.
So, yeah, it looked like hell, but if he kept working on the place, one day, it would be something fancy.
Something he could be proud of. Tanner hadn’t exactly been proud of a lot of things in his life.
Not his murdering bastard of a father.
Not his sadistic shifter brother, Brandt.
And he’d sure not been proud of himself. Not with all the blood on his hands. Tanner glanced down at his hands. The skin was a dark tan, smooth, but he knew the blood was still there. Some things just couldn’t be washed away.
“I suppose you want me to thank you,” Marna said, her words drawing his gaze back to her.
She stood at the edge of the would-be foyer, her hands on her hips, eyeing him like he was some kind of disgusting bug that had crawled across her path.
So what else was new? She’d been looking at him that way ever since he found her. Ever since she realized just exactly who—what—he was.
Never good enough for her.
But, hell, who would be good enough? Maybe another angel, one of those lily-white jerks who knew nothing of sin.
And as for thanking him . . . “I did keep your sweet ass out of a jail cell.” He’d gotten her clear, permanently. No one would be looking for a dead woman.
Not that anyone should go looking for her. But just in case, he had friends at the hospital, folks who knew the paranormal score and who owed him favors. They’d make a paperwork trail to show that she was truly dead, and those hospital connections had even set a plan in motion to cremate one Marna Smith.
He’d only been half bullshitting when he said bodies disappeared from the morgue. In this case, she wouldn’t totally vanish—her ashes would be left behind as proof of her death. And with the ashes and death certificate on file, that would be the end of the story.
It wasn’t the first time he’d made a body disappear. Wouldn’t be the last either.
“You’re also the one who led the cops right to me at that club.” Marna wasn’t relenting. The lady knew how to hold on to her anger. Kinda sexy the way her cheeks flushed and her eyes glittered. But then, he thought most things about her were sexy. “If you’d just stayed away, then—”
He pounced. No other word. Sometimes, the panther inside liked to jump after his prey. In an instant, he was across the room and caging her against the wall with his arms. Tanner made sure that he didn’t touch her, not yet.
Soon.
Her scent slid around him. He realized he was already rock hard, but then that wasn’t a real surprise. His body had only one response to seeing her: Time to fuck. He got hard just being in the same room with her.
But the lust would have to wait. Not for long though. He was getting damn near insane from wanting her. Tanner cleared his throat, the better not to growl, as he said, “We got a tip that you were in that club. An APB had been put out for you by the PD. If I hadn’t come in to get you . . .” He bent his head and more of her scent—fucking flowers—teased his nose.
A guy could get drunk off Marna’s scent. Temptation had never smelled so sweet.
He sucked in a breath and tasted her. “If it hadn’t been me, it would have been one hell of a lot rougher. The boys in blue who came after you wouldn’t have played nearly as nicely as I did.”
Her lips were parted, revealing the edge of her white teeth. “Bullshit.”
He blinked. Not exactly what he’d expected to hear coming from an angel’s mouth. Looked like Marna was picking up some dirty habits.
He’d like to teach her a few more.
“You were afraid,” she charged. “You thought I’d kill any other cops who came after me.”
He was being careful not to touch her, but Marna lifted her hand and placed it right over his heart. She had to feel the frantic beat, but he couldn’t help it. Being so close to her had his body tensing.
And his cock hardening even more.
Want her.
Even though he knew just how lethal she could be.
“You know what angels like me can do.” Marna’s voice had a husky edge. Her eyes stared up at his, and he could see the challenge plain on her face. “Are you afraid of me now?”
Fear wasn’t exactly what he felt. If she just moved her hand down a ways, she
’d be able to tell that. “No.”
Some of the challenge faded from her gaze.
He lifted his right hand and caught her chin, tilting her head back. Now it was his turn. “But I know you’re terrified of me.”
Then he did what he’d been dying to do for the last two months.
Tanner took her mouth. Her lips were still parted, so he thrust his tongue inside. She gasped and he took her breath, kissing her harder. Deeper.
Her lips were so damn soft. And her taste . . .
The sweetest temptation.
Like strawberries. Fresh strawberries. And . . . champagne. The fancy stuff that he hardly ever bought. Delicious. Good enough to make him feel a little drunk.
Want more.
She’d frozen in his arms. Not kissing him back. Not shoving him away. Not responding. Screw that. He pushed her back against the wall and licked her lips. The woman had fire inside of her. He’d find it.
Marna trembled against him. With that small movement, her lips parted even more. A growl broke from his throat, and Tanner let the kiss deepen. Let her taste the hunger and lust that he could barely keep in check around her.
Then her tongue licked against his mouth.
Yes.
Her hand rose from his chest and curled around his shoulder. Instead of pushing him away, she pulled him closer.
Kissed him harder.
Deeper.
Their bodies pressed together. No way could she miss the heavy cock thrusting against her, and the feel of her tight, pebbled nipples against his chest had Tanner desperate to strip her, and taste her—everywhere.
He’d been wrong. She didn’t fear him, she—
Marna pushed him away. Because the lady packed one hell of a lot of strength in that slender body, he flew back about five feet.
They stared at each other. Her lips were red and swollen from his mouth. Her breath heaved out, and a flush stained her cheeks. “Why . . .” She cleared her throat and tried again because that one word had been a gasp, “Why did you do that?”
Did she really need to ask? Because I want you. But he said, “Because it was time you realized a few truths about me.”