Wicked Fire: Angel Fire, book 2

by Johnston, Marie

  Wicked Fire

  Angel Fire, book 2

  Marie Johnston

  Jagger Hancock is a fearsome warrior for the angelic realm, slaying demons left and right on Earth and protecting the human race. But when a powerful senator is murdered, he’s reduced to acting as a bodyguard for the grieving daughter. Too bad she’s the same female who ruined his one and only chance at happiness.

  Felicia Montclaire looks as angelic as the rest of her kind, but she hides her scars well. Yet the male who gave them to her is not just after her again, but seeking conquest over the entire realm too. While her life goes up in flames once more, the last thing she needs is a cranky bodyguard…even if he’s the only one who can keep her alive.

  Jagger and Felicia might not survive each other, much less the constant attacks from their enemies. But when danger drives them back to the angelic realm, they’ll discover their past is waiting for them—and it’s far more dangerous than anything on Earth.

  Copyright © 2019 by Marie Johnston

  Cover art by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Editing by Razor Sharp Editing

  Proofing by Help Me Edit

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  About the Author

  Also by Marie Johnston

  Chapter 1

  “The team needs me.” Julian Hancock, or Jagger to everyone but his mother, managed not to sound pleading as he addressed his former team leader. Bryant Vale was the warrior director now and less interested in hearing his arguments. “With you off the team and no replacement yet, my place is here.”

  Jagger should be in his typical uniform of black tactical pants and a long-sleeved black shirt specially designed to fit around his wings. It seemed sacrilegious to sit in his boss’s office wearing a blue T-shirt and a pair of black athletic shorts. But it was necessary for his latest assignment.

  He couldn’t take another day shadowing Felicia fucking Montclaire. She was in some danger he only knew vague details about and she’d demanded him as her bodyguard. Demanded. Like the spoiled priss she was.

  Spoiled and superficial and haughty…and strong and gorgeous and willowy. Her legs went for miles and haunted his dreams.

  He clenched his jaw and steadied his gaze on his new director. Felicia Montclaire was only an obstacle to what he really wanted. Someday, he’d have his own team to lead and he couldn’t do that stuck among humans, babysitting the aimless daughter of a senator.

  A flash of guilt flared. Felicia was still technically a senator’s daughter, but her father had been murdered a couple of months ago. She’d weathered the news well, but then he hadn’t expected her to get weepy or be derailed by her grief. He hadn’t expected her to show any feeling at all. And he’d been right.

  His director, Bryant Vale, was as expressionless as a wall. A dark, glaring wall. “I understand your complications with Ms. Montclaire—”

  “Forget our history,” Jagger gritted out.

  He hated that anyone knew the story between him and the vexing angel he was protecting. Or rather, the lack of a story, the result of Ms. Montclaire not setting the record straight and letting everyone think he was a cheating asshole.

  “The team needs me.” He said it as much for himself as to make a point. “If Felicia truly requires protection, then she should stay in the realm, in a designated home, with a designated guard.”

  Director Vale’s demeanor had hardened as soon as Jagger had cut him off. Damn. Jagger had meant to use a lighter touch, not charge in like a bull at his first sight of red. “Sit down.”

  Jagger took his time selecting the backless seat across from the obnoxiously large mahogany desk. He draped his wings over the edge but couldn’t force them to relax. “Director Vale—”

  “Shut it.” You could take the warrior off the team, but you couldn’t soften his personality. Director Vale leaned across the desk, his eyes blazing. “I can’t believe you’re dense enough to think that Felicia is safer here. She can help identify her attacker and lead us to the people behind the conspiracy against this realm. The ones who could tell us just what this conspiracy entails. Have a think on it.”

  Jagger refused to drop his gaze, and that was a harder challenge than most when Director Vale was pissed. The scars encompassing half the male’s face didn’t make him easy to look at on most days.

  The director wasn’t finished. “Her family’s mansion was burned to the ground by angel fire while over half our team was inside. While my mate was inside. Director Richter—” His gaze cut away. Leo Richter was no longer the director. He’d lost both legs at the knee thanks to the fire and was still recovering. “Felicia can hide among the humans better than in our realm. Numen isn’t safe for her. And do I need to go into the main reason why you shouldn’t be tied to the investigation, why you’re too close to the case?”

  Jagger’s teeth should’ve cracked under the pressure of his jaw. His father, James Hancock.

  His good-for-nothing, cheating father, who’d risked their entire race by spilling the news of their existence to his human side piece. His father, who’d had several human side pieces, and probably a few angelic ones, while he’d had a committed mate.

  His father, who’d had his wings taken, been declared a fallen, and tossed out of the realm forever.

  His father, who was working with the creatures of Daemon to take over Numen, the realm where his own son resided. If he were a weaker male, he’d feel like his father had chosen the demons of Daemon not only over the angels of Numen, but over him too. Now the man would work with anyone or anything if it served his agenda. Archmasters, symasters, sylphs—the new “Jameson Haddock” didn’t seem to discriminate.

  But then if Jagger had ever meant a damn thing to his father, then perhaps Jameson would still be an esteemed senator of Numen.

  Not that his father’s multilayered betrayal affected him.

  He kept his voice even. “Our team is two short. Dionna took over as leader, but we no longer have you, and with me tied up…” Literally, if Felicia had her way.

  His team was everything to him. Having lost his father so young, and his mother… Well, Chanel Hancock wasn’t known for her nurturing nature. She’d turned twice as cold and ten times harder than marble after what she referred to as “your father’s unfortunate choices.”

  “I understand.” Director Vale sat back. “But they aren’t functioning as a traditional warrior team, not until this is over. They—you—are under my personal direction. You’re the only ones I completely trust now.”

  The director’s unwavering trust mollified him. For now. He’d grown up getting side-eyed by his peers, as if they wondered when he’d follow in his father’s footsteps. And then he’d weathered the Felicia storm, which had broken the trust of the on
e most dear to him. Without those experiences, Director Vale’s words wouldn’t have meant as much.

  To still have Bryant Vale in his corner after they’d learned his own exiled father was the one behind the trouble in the realm was humbling.

  And he needed to make sure he continued to earn it.

  Even if he had to deal with the fallout of the maelstrom that Felicia Montclaire brought to his life.

  * * *

  “He’s in there right now, asking to be rid of me.” Felicia sipped her sparkling water from a crystal goblet. She wasn’t allowed to go anywhere by herself, but at least she had a few moments with her sister.

  She’d rather have this conversation in private, but Bryant had hired an administrative assistant. Odessa had kept bugging him to get help so he wouldn’t be so cranky after a day of penning scrolls for the senate to review.

  The new girl—Tina? Tera? Tenley, that was it—sat at a large desk surrounded by stacks of scrolls and training charts. Bryant had redesigned his office to make room for an assistant, giving himself a smaller and more secluded office with Tenley acting as gatekeeper. Felicia sat with Odessa in chairs placed as far across the room from Tenley’s desk and as physically close to the door to the hallway as possible. Bryant wasn’t the only one who liked his solitude.

  “He is not asking to be rid of you.” Odessa chewed her lip. “No, you’re probably right. But in all fairness, you haven’t told him the reason why you’re in this position. None of it is your fault.”

  “I know.” Felicia lowered her voice so only Odessa could hear. “But I shouldn’t need to suffer all over again while a noble warrior treats me like a hussy who can’t restrain herself.”

  Odessa’s mouth twisted as she tried to hold back a smile. “In all fairness,” she repeated, “you go out of your way to make him think you’re a hussy who can’t restrain herself.”

  “And he buys into it so easily,” Felicia hissed. “Ass.”

  “What would you do if he didn’t?”

  Felicia huffed but had to look away. What would she do if the sexiest male she’d ever met looked at her with less disdain and more respect? What would she do if that male thought she might be worth more than the lint that collected under his wings?

  On the subject of wings, she involuntarily stiffened. Odessa, bless her golden heart, thought it meant that she’d crossed the line.

  Her sister laid a hand on her arm. “Sorry. He shouldn’t treat you like he does, regardless.”

  Felicia patted Odessa’s hand and stood to pace. Restless energy had filled her ever since she could remember. Add in her traumatic past and that made lying down to sleep troublesome.

  “No, I agree with you on both accounts. As for your question, he’ll never treat me like an equal, so it’s not something I have to ponder.”

  She still remembered the words he’d hurled at her when she’d refused to shout from the rooftops that she hadn’t slept with him.

  It’s ridiculous, all this. As if someone like me could ever be interested in someone like you. You’re so deceitful, you won’t even unfurl your wings. Too afraid we’ll see that they’re as black as your heart?

  A lump formed in her throat.

  No, she’d never confessed that they hadn’t slept together. Because she’d never claimed that they had. Someone else had spread the word that she’d messed around with him. And since she had a reputation, the lie had been accepted without doubt.

  Her kind might not be divine angels, but they liked to pretend that they were—unless gossip was involved.

  She hated this whole realm. Almost as much as she missed it.

  Bryant’s office door flung open behind her. Felicia forced herself to turn around, her brow raised in polite question. And Jagger would damn well know that she was mocking him. He hadn’t made it a secret that he’d come here to be rid of her.

  And she couldn’t blame him. Half the time, she didn’t want to be around herself either.

  Her right shoulder blade tinged. She flexed the muscles and prevented the pain from showing on her face. Her kind could morph their wings, unfurling them at will or furling them into their backs and hiding them from view. The morph used to take nothing more than a thought. Now it took so much concentration—and was extremely painful. She should be accustomed to this routine by now, but keeping her wings hidden in public for long stretches of time was still uncomfortable eleven years later.

  Angels had to do it when they were working among humans, and since she lived in the same realm as humans, most didn’t question it the few times she came back home. The constant morph of her wings added to her aloofness and fueled the lies about her.

  He bowed his head to Odessa, probably wondering why Felicia couldn’t be more like her sister. Kind. Considerate. Serene. Odessa in the long, traditional white robe, with her perfect downy wings and her admirable job as an analyst for the realm.

  Felicia was wearing shorts that rode so high, her ass cheeks were almost hanging out. Almost. Because this brand was excellent at concealing her privates while allowing for maximum height on her kicks. The krav maga gym she worked at didn’t care that she showed more than a little leg. They were more worried about self-defense and mastering self-control. The gym owner had once told her that she should be able to walk in nude and still be safe in his domain.

  At least she’d thrown a white tank top on over her neon pink sports bra before coming to this meeting with Bryant.

  She had no trouble thinking of Bryant as her brother. He was Odessa’s mate and one of the few beings alive who knew of her past. He was also one of the few of her kind who treated her like she was worthy of his respect. So, dammit, she’d make sure she was. Of Bryant’s, anyway. Jagger could kiss his own ass.

  To get her mind off her own problems, she looked at the studious new assistant. “How are you liking the new job?”

  Tenley smiled. She looked young, like the rest of the realm, but her luminous brown eyes were more world-weary than innocent. “It’s such a nice change from my work at the archives.” Her smile was warm. “I rather like creating the records instead of sorting them.”

  Odessa sent the young female a fond smile. “She’s even excited about hunting a box of missing vials.”

  Tenley’s head bobbed, her eyes lighting up. “A real-life mystery. An entire shipment. But I’ll find it and get the warriors their ration of angel fire as soon as possible.”

  A pang of envy came and went. It must be nice to be useful. But Felicia would keep creating her own usefulness, even if wasn’t in this realm.

  “Let’s go,” Jagger said curtly, whipping open the door to the hallway. His surfer-blond hair hung over one eye. When it wasn’t slicked back it reached down to his chin. Why did he have to look so fine? He gave her an expectant stare.

  Right. That meant she would take her time. “Odessa, when are you coming to visit next?”

  Odessa wasn’t stupid, but she was discreet. After shooting Felicia a droll look, her expression turned thoughtful. “I’m not sure. They offered me Cal’s position and I’m thinking of taking it, since Millie is shunning all my offers of help with Director Richter—I mean, Leo.”

  Bryant came out of the office, shuttering a hard stare toward Jagger. Felicia didn’t bother to look at her guardian even though his impatience would be so satisfying.

  Bryant crossed to Odessa’s side and another pang of envy hit. The two were so stupid in love—and newly mated. At the thought of mating, a wave of panic rolled through her, leaving her feeling itchy. Syncing to another being only meant heartbreak worse than one could imagine. She’d seen it too often.

  “Not referring to Leo as Director is a hard task,” Bryant said. “And I rather like how Odessa being offered a supervisory position is making certain members of the realm nervous.”

  Odessa grinned. “And he likes how it’d give me unfettered access to Numen’s surveillance records.”

  Apparently today was the afternoon for feeling jealous. Theme of the day: gre
en. Odessa’s job was admirable. Only highly intelligent angels could be analysts. They sifted and combed through the records watchers made of human activity, looking for patterns and trends that indicated Daemon influence. Who was being toyed with by demons, who was possessed, where the demons were hiding. It was Odessa’s work that had uncovered a fallen angel’s conspiracy to overthrow the senate, and she’d almost died because of it. Her previous supervisor had died because of it, in fact.

  And then there was Felicia. Aimless. Irresponsible. Deceitful. Jagger was correct about that. She was a walking lie as she pretended she was unaffected by anything and everything.

  She was a senator’s daughter, yet she’d done nothing in her twenty-six years. Her kind might be immortal, but they settled into their careers after schooling. Yet she wasn’t smart enough to be an analyst. Nor was she quiet enough or stealthy enough to follow humans all day, taking notes like a watcher.

  God forbid she had to watch humans die and guide them to the light like chaperones. She almost shuddered. With her skills, she should be a warrior fighting demon influence in the human realm, but with her history in Numen, they wouldn’t take her seriously. Neither would the police force of Numen, the enforcers. Though it seemed they had a bit of a corruption issue going on.

  A senator’s daughter. One would think she’d follow in her daddy’s footsteps. But no. She’d get laughed out of the senate coliseum by half the senators and propositioned for favors by the other half. Many of her father’s “friends” had already offered to let her service their needs.

  No, thank you.