by Cari Z
Then again, the man had been missing for close to a decade. Devon’s bosses had lost track of him after he’d arrived in Taiwan, and no one had been more surprised than they to see surveillance footage of Porter back in the States, probably the least safe place in all the world for him to be. They weren’t even positive it was him, which was why Devon had been sent in to reconnoiter.
Well, objective number one was complete. Number two…that was gonna take a bit more work. Apprehending Porter really wasn’t in the cards while Devon was hemmed in by a couple of very angry, still-bleeding thugs.
“I see,” Saint Peter said. He sighed a little, but finally assented. “This young man will keep. I will discuss his future further with him after tonight’s entertainment. It is better, in a way. Now I will be able to take my time with him. Take him to the cell and ready the succubus for presentation.”
Devon and Porter Grey stared at each other for a long moment. For a second, Devon thought that the man was going to be stupid, that he was going to get close enough for Devon to get his hands on him, which would’ve been like Christmas in July at this point. Then Porter smirked, reached inside his jacket and pulled out his own Taser. All Devon had time for was a brief moment of, Oh, fuck me before the barbs made two neat holes in his favorite goddamn Kiton shirt and the electricity filled his body and momentarily blanked out his mind.
Numbers One and Two picked him up and carried him behind Porter through a side door, well away from the revelry of the audience chamber and straight to the holding cells. Porter paused at a closed door and spoke into a small com set into his watch. “Take her into the secondary room.” He glanced over at Devon. “I don’t want them to have any contact.”
Good call, Devon thought hazily. Cambion couldn’t be magically commanded by humans, but their sensitivity to their demon side was much stronger, and much harder to resist. A succubus levering all of her sexuality at him, all of her pure, uninhibited lust, would be able to get him to do just about anything, even dampened as she was by the silver restraints. Porter Grey knew his business. Devon stared blearily at the side of his target’s head, noticing for the first time the furrowed scarring at the top of his ear. Something had taken a chunk out of it at some point, and while the surgeon who fixed it was good, nothing could quite replace that much lost cartilage.
After a few more seconds, Porter opened the door and motioned them through, and Devon felt his stomach turn at the smell that the succubus had left behind. The air was redolent with it, fear and anger and hysterical need, and he whined high in his throat, a faint protest as One and Two shoved him into the empty cell and locked the door behind him. The insides of the cell’s bars were lined with silver, and there was another seal in silver on the floor as well. The silver would cause physical pain to a true demon, but it wasn’t enough to bother Devon. He pushed his sore body into a sitting position and lifted his head. Porter was still there, and looked down at him…hungrily, was the description that immediately came to mind. Like Devon was something to be devoured. Porter dismissed the guards, and once they were gone he moved in closer, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on Devon.
“You’re not one of mine,” Porter said softly, one elegant hand lingering on the metal frame of the cell. “But there’s something very familiar about you.” His voice was considering, but his face was oddly smug.
Devon didn’t know exactly what to make of that, but he did know an opening when he saw one. “You could find out,” he murmured, shifting to his knees. He kept his eyes low, barely glancing up through his long lashes. “If you wanted to. Right now.” He wet his lips with his tongue. “And you wouldn’t have to share me with Saint Peter.”
Porter was wearing a peach charm, so he was resistant to the power of a cambion’s allure but he wasn’t immune to Devon, who had been making people want him in one way or another for as long as he could remember. Demons were sexual but not subtle, while Devon…he could do coy, and that seemed to be something this man wanted. Porter was obviously stifled here, Devon was new and interesting, and if he could just get his hands on the man and rip away that charm…oh, the things Devon could make him do.
Too late, though. Porter was pressed for time, and his sense of responsibility got the better of his curiosity. “I’ll learn the way of you soon enough,” Porter said, and his voice was full of dark promise. He left, exiting through a second metal door about ten feet away, and finally Devon was alone. There was nothing else there back there but a security camera in the corner of the ceiling outside the cell, blinking its little red light at him.
Well then. Good time to talk to his handler. “Maria?” Devon murmured.
“Status report, Harper.”
“Mission is partially accomplished. Porter Grey is definitely here,” Devon said, facing away from the camera and stretching languorously. “He just locked me up, actually.”
“Can you escape?”
“I probably can,” he said judiciously, “given enough time to work my mojo, but I don’t know exactly when they’re going to be back for me, and I’d rather not be round two of tonight’s entertainment if it was all the same to you.”
“Time for an extraction, then.”
“Oh, do I get Rio?” Devon asked excitedly. Just the thought of it made his heart beat a little faster. “Please tell me I get Rio.” He hadn’t seen Rio in a few months, not since the job they’d done together in Florida, and while the sight of that man in alternating white linen suits and speedos was wonderful fodder for fantasies, over time the memory had grown a bit threadbare. Rio was the only one Devon didn’t have to be careful around, and he treasured every chance he got to work with him. This op had come together so fast that there hadn’t been time to nail down who would be his backup before he went in, and while the other guys were fine, no one compared to Rio. “Please, please, pretty please…”
Maria coughed uncomfortably. “Reel it in some, Harper.”
Devon grinned unapologetically. “Oh, am I getting you wet, sweetheart?”
“You’re about to get yourself the next job in Siberia if you don’t stop fucking around with me, boy.” Her sigh was long-suffering. “But yes, you get Rio.”
“Sweet.” Devon bounced up and down on the balls of his feet a little, as close as he felt he could get to a leap and a yell of joy right now. “So I’ll just sit back and relax until I hear the explosions start, shall I?”
“ETA is approximately half an hour. Think you can last until then?”
Porter had a hold on the succubus for the next two hours, and Saint Peter didn’t seem like the type of psycho to let any time he could spend hurting someone go to waste. Devon glanced up at the camera and wondered if the person watching this feed wore the same charm that the floor staff did. “I think I can keep myself alive and in one piece until he gets here.”
“Do that, Harper.”
The com went silent. Devon sauntered over to the cell door and rested his arms against one of the horizontal bars. He stared straight up at the camera, blew a kiss to the watcher, and started to work his allure. If he was lucky, he could have this door open by the time Rio arrived.
Chapter Three
This far out in the desert, it was amazing the number of stars you could see. Familiar constellations got lost in the sea of starlight, fighting for recognition when there was no ambient light to drown out the rest of the sky. Rio lay on his back in the cab of his pickup truck and traced the lines of Cygnus and Lyra in his mind, tapping his toe to a Meat Puppets song that sounded just a little scratchy coming from his tape deck. He ran his fingers across Maggie’s head, and she made a small noise of contentment. The hot Nevada air softened with the setting sun, less arid and harsh against the skin. A gentle breeze caressed his face and Rio closed his eyes and let the peacefulness of it wash over him. It was a perfect moment.
“Rio, report in.”
Aaand moment over. Rio grabbed his com off of the long canvas bag he was leaning against and slipped it into his ear. “I’m here, Maria.
What’s happening?”
“Harper’s been made. We’re moving on to phase two of the operation.”
“Is he okay?” Rio asked quickly. Devon Harper vacillated in Rio’s mind between the not-so-distant titles of Utterly Shameless Flirt and Epic Pain In The Ass, but he was a highly effective agent and the best choice the company had for this sort of job. When it came to winning friends and influencing people, Devon Harper was second to none.
“He’s fine, but it turns out the place was prepared for demons and cambions. He was apprehended almost immediately. He did confirm that Porter Grey is there, though.”
“That’s good news,” Rio said, his mind drifting to the small, airtight plastic box he had shut in the glove compartment next to his registration and road maps. Not a good place for it, but he’d been brought in on this job at the last minute, and he figured if holding on to such a thing was ever going to prove useful, now would be the time.
“How soon can you get in there?”
“I’m just fifteen minutes out. You sure he’s okay?”
“He’s fine. About as high as a puppy on crack at the thought of you riding in to his rescue, too. Just a warning, you may want to brace yourself once you find him.”
“Oh joy,” Rio deadpanned. He sat up and ran a hand over his clean-shaven head. “I’ll let you know when I’m in position.”
“Understood.”
Rio slipped the com out and put it into his breast pocket. He knew that technically he was supposed to keep it in at all times during an op, but it irritated his ear, and he’d still be able to hear her if Maria started talking again. He turned and looked at Maggie. “Time to go, baby.”
She growled at him, annoyed that the petting had ended.
“I know, but duty calls. Go get in your seat.” She sighed, but obediently hopped through the small window in the back of the cab. Rio slid down the bed of the truck, tightened the tarps that covered his lockboxes as he went, then stood up and slammed the tailgate shut. He walked around to his door and got in, wishing not for the first time that these seats would go back just a little further.
Maggie already had her head out the window in anticipation of the ride. Rio started up the truck and pulled back onto the dirt road, not bothering to turn on his headlights. There was more than enough light to see by, and he didn’t want to give anything away to whoever might be watching him approach. Speaking of which…he fished out the com again.
“You said they have a generator on top, right?”
“Inside the gas station,” she confirmed. “That’s their main source of power. There’s a backup generator in the motel, though, enough for emergency lighting and fans. There are cameras in both the gas station and the motel. Guests park their cars in an underground structure beneath the motel and are guided from there.”
“Huh.”
“Given that Harper is currently their unwilling guest, I recommend leaving the gas station intact in favor of a quieter approach. Number of armed hostiles is indeterminate, but Harper personally dealt with two. Expect Tasers and handguns.”
“Priorities once inside?”
“Rescue Harper, apprehend Porter Grey,” she said immediately. “Saint Peter would be nice too, but he’s a secondary consideration. There’s no need to keep this one pretty, Rio. Intel links the Pearly Gates to some major human trafficking pipelines, and from what we know of the guest roster, there aren’t many upstanding citizens to be had in there.”
Maria was giving him tacit permission to go in guns blazing. Rio generally did whatever he thought needed doing and worried about the consequences of it later, but it was nice to be preapproved for necessary violence this time around. Violence, after all, was what he did best.
Rio had been working with Safeguard Systems since its inception almost a dozen years ago. The company specialized in providing cutting-edge security systems and personal body guards, but it had a darker side that focused on search and rescue, kidnapping recovery, industrial espionage, and, known only to a select few employees and the couple that ran the business, demon hunting. Safeguard ran operations all over the world, searching for signs of demons and demonic lore and abolishing both of them whenever they could.
It was people like Porter Grey, someone with the knowledge and the skills to pass the practical lore of demon summoning on to others, and who had a record of wreaking havoc with their abilities, who were Rio’s primary target. Mexican drug lords and Japanese mafiosos were nothing in comparison. And Porter Grey was an especially big deal to Ronald and Elliana Mayhew, the owners of Safeguard. That made him a big deal to Rio.
He could see the motel coming up in the distance. There were a few dingy, flickering lights illuminating the gas station pumps, but other than that the place was dark. Rio slowed down and stopped about a hundred yards out. No reason to drive up and give himself away when he could walk in. Plus, he didn’t want Maggie anywhere close to possible demolitions. He turned the truck off, reached over for Maggie’s collar and tucked the key into the special pocket that hung next to her nametag. She licked his hand.
“You stay here and guard the truck, okay girl?”
Maggie stood up on her hind legs and stretched her paws imploringly toward him. He set his hand out palm up and she hopped on. At six pounds soaking wet and consisting mostly of bright orange fluff, Maggie wasn’t exactly a handful, but she hated being left behind and it was hard to say no to her.
“You have to stay here,” he said sternly, looking her right in the eyes. Maggie yipped indignantly. “No arguments. You’ve got,” he checked her bottle, hanging from the passenger window with a sippy spout at the end, “plenty of water. I’ll give you a treat when I get back.” He kissed the top of her head and set her down again. Maggie sighed and sat. “Good girl.”
Rio shut his door and headed around to the back of the truck. He opened the tailgate, threw back the tarps, unlocked the closest box, and looked inside. Night vision goggles probably wouldn’t be necessary, but he wasn’t taking out the generator, not yet. He was already wearing his black fatigues; he hadn’t even had time to change clothes after finishing his last job, just driven straight through to here from LA. Rio pulled his heavy body armor out of a bag and set it aside, then grabbed a helmet with a darkened faceplate. Thin gloves followed that, and then it was on to the weapons.
The shotgun with frangible copper rounds was for the door, and he snagged some detcord in case that didn’t do the trick. Sting grenades were always nice for putting down crowds, so a couple of those, and a tear gas grenade too, because why not. His favorite semiautomatic handguns, two Sig P226s with extra magazines in easy reach, a 120-lumen flashlight, and a KA-BAR matte-black tanto knife with an 8-inch blade in case anyone wanted to snuggle. Variety was the spice of a one-man tactical invasion.
Getting into his gear was like slipping into a hot bath for Rio. It was relaxing, a ritual that calmed and focused him on the task ahead. He was practically invisible once he was in his well-worn armor, or as close to it as a seven-foot-tall man could get. He settled the shotgun over his shoulder, patted his pocket to check on the grenades, then sauntered off toward the motel.
The closer he got, the easier it was to see through the ruse. The air here smelled like exhaust, and he could just detect the faint whirr of fans keeping the ventilation down there moving. The motel was completely dark up top, but Rio saw the reflective markers on the ground meant to guide incoming cars to the ramp that led below. Rio followed it down, staying close to the wall.
After about twenty feet, the ramp leveled off, and Rio saw fluorescent lighting ahead. There were rows of cars down here, nice ones, and that meant—yep, there they were. The drivers. People not important enough to let into the Pearly Gates but who still had to be accommodated. It was nothing more than a rudimentary lounge with a few couches and an old TV, but the ten or so men kicking back there seemed to like it well enough. Just beyond them, a single man in a black suit guarded the door that probably functioned as the entrance. The door
was metal but the lock didn’t look like anything special, so the shotgun should handle it easily enough. Okay then. Tear gas it was.
“Is everything still all right inside?” he asked quietly.
“As far as I know, yes. No news from Harper, which means there’s probably a spectacle going on in there with a demon. It could be nasty.”
“Demons generally are. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will.” Of everyone who could be coming into this situation, Rio was the best, and Maria was the only handler who knew why.
Rio got a bead on the security camera over the door, and right after he tossed the gas canister, he shot a round through the lens. Men began to cough and choke, some swore, and he could hear the guard asking for backup in broken Italian. Rio waited another moment for some of the gas to dissipate, then walked up to the lounge. He ignored the drivers, most of whom were blinded by tears and lying on the floor , and shot the guard in the head. Rio stepped over the body, pulled out his shotgun, and fired a blast into the locking mechanism in one smooth motion. It crumpled but didn’t give way entirely. One more shot finished it off, though, and he kicked the door open and stepped inside.
His focus narrowed down to targets. One man, two—he shot them each twice through the chest, playing it safe with his aim since no one seemed to be wearing a vest. An alarm began to go off, and he could hear the ambient noise rising, but all he saw were the targets. Black suits and earpieces, he took them down as they entered the hall—one, two three, four. They all fell. Their blood spread across the floor like spilled paint. Rio stepped over it carefully and continued on through to the central room.
There was a succubus in a circle in the middle of the floor, inside of a beautiful body, a girl with long blue-black hair and a perfect light brown complexion. She was wildly contorted, her head spun so far around that Rio knew her host body was dead by now. She saw him, her irises solid green and iridescent like a beetle’s wings, and shrieked. The dozens of men surrounding her, men so caught up in her distorted, wanton pain that they hadn’t heard the gunshots, blinked hazy eyes and looked up. They saw Rio, they watched him shoot a guard coming up on his right, and finally they began to panic.