Dionna looked past her, searching. She was tensed and ready for a battle. “Are you hurt?”
“Nothing that can’t heal.” She pushed off the ground. “Is that your blood or another’s?”
“Another’s. He is dead.”
Whoa. That had escalated quickly. Warriors killed demons all the time. They protected humans. But killing another angel?
Dionna studied her. “He fought with his pride, not his brain.”
“Two males, huh? They underestimated us.”
“They underestimated you. If I hadn’t set up a small security camera on my phone, I would’ve been doused with angel fire—thus why he’s dead.” She nudged the unconscious male with her foot. “Come. We must secure him.”
Felicia had major envy of Dionna’s toolkit. Ropes, zip ties, and duct tape. The essentials.
Five minutes later, the male was strapped to the office chair and secured from head to toe with no less than three layers of duct tape over his mouth.
“Now what?” Felicia prodded him. Out cold.
“I notified Director Vale and the enforcers. Both shall arrive shortly.” Dionna retrieved a small washcloth from her bag of surprises and wiped the blood off her face. Her dark skin was unmarred. Covered in drying blood, with two sais strapped behind her back and more blades tucked into harnesses all the way down to her tactical boots, she looked like a New York Fashion Week model visiting a war zone. Felicia doubted a vat of angel fire would’ve been enough to keep her down.
Dionna folded her arms across her chest and scowled at her phone. The female had rigged a security system in the middle of Numen. Surely others did too. Maybe? Most thought this realm was as irreproachable as heaven. Or perhaps other horrid events had been hushed up in the name of perceived security.
Dionna was working and Felicia had little more to do than pick her nose. “Can I help?”
“No.”
A few moments of tense silence later, Felicia released a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
A surprised gaze speared her. “Why? You saved yourself. It is I who failed you.”
“We didn’t fail, they did. But you’re stuck babysitting me instead of doing your true calling.”
Dionna studied her for a moment. “The politics of my job are not your problem. Truthfully, the only thing I’d do differently than the director is push for action, to go after the fallen and weed out the corruption in the realm. But up here, there is more than a team leader calling the shots. He has senators and enforcers who have to approve major decisions regarding the warriors. And also, he doesn’t know who he can trust. I get it.” She went back to her screen. “I don’t like it, but I get it.”
“Bryant is actually trying to accommodate other branches of Numen society?” She hadn’t known him long before he’d taken his new position, but he hadn’t struck her as a mediator.
A smile ghosted across Dionna’s lips. “He’s being a director.”
“Then maybe you should be a Bryant. Tell him what you’re going to have your team do and let him deal with the mess as it unfolds.” As black eyebrows arched higher with each word, Felicia backpedaled. “But of course, you’re not Bryant. I mean, there was a reason he was ordered to mate my sister.” To tame him. Gotta love her realm. You get a mate, and you get a mate, and you get a mate!
“And perhaps the senate could use input from someone with your family legacy and experience. Someone like you could get the senate to realize that angel fire needs a chain of custody, so guys like these don’t get their hands on it. And if they did, we could find out how and why. You could do that.”
The inclination to be insulted died away. She had a point and her tone was pointed but not negative. “My family legacy isn’t anything to be proud of. It’d be nothing but an uphill battle, getting senators to take me seriously.”
“Ms. Montclaire, I haven’t known you for long, but when have you cared what anyone thought? When have you let it stop you?”
She couldn’t answer. That was the very attitude she’d adopted a long time ago.
And Dionna wasn’t done. “I often think that’s the main problem with our senate. Too much of a disconnect between what we do as warriors and chaperones and any angel deployed to the human realm and what the senate thinks we do. The hereditary aspect of senate seats is taken for granted, and with it the sense of entitlement. More critically, the superior attitude over those of us elbow-deep in Daemon blood. We need people like you, who know both sides, to get in there and make them listen.”
“Just because my father was a senator doesn’t mean I’d be a good one.”
“But it means you could try, and that’s a lot more of an advantage than other qualified candidates have.”
Dionna was stepping on a sensitive button that Felicia didn’t want to fiddle with. Her words brought back memories of traipsing into Father’s office and following him around. She recalled how he’d tell her about his day or the scrolls he was reading and why.
That time was too long ago. Father was dead. Any good he’d done was marred by the deaths of so many warriors. The open hatred and verbal abuse she’d subject herself to as soon as she announced, “Hey, I think I’m gonna be a senator,” would be more than she cared to take. She’d been through enough.
And the sick part? With her lineage, she’d probably get voted in over another more qualified and earnest candidate. She might even get in just because the assholes wanted a chance to ruin her.
Where were Bryant and the enforcers? She lifted her chin. “While I agree with what you’re saying, I’ve already given more for this realm than many angels. Call me selfish, but giving any more is not part of my future plans.”
Dionna’s gaze was steady. “Yes, you are selfish.”
How dare she? Anger ignited in her gut but didn’t grow into a raging inferno. She respected Dionna. When the warrior called her selfish, it made her think she wasn’t as impervious to other’s opinions as she thought.
* * *
“We have to do something,” Jagger growled as he paced the sitting area. Dionna’s slight nod made him feel better. All of them were restless while Vale played the politics game. They’d been sitting around for a week and it had done nothing but give the other side time to attack them.
He’d gotten back from his ill-fated meeting with Persephone to find his home filled with his team and the enforcer Tosca, who’d worked with them when Odessa had needed guards.
Tosca was gone now, along with the intruder—who wasn’t talking—but Tosca had insisted on doing everything by the book. Jagger was concerned that no matter what the younger enforcer thought, those who employed the attacker would get to him before he talked.
He spun to tread the other direction. “Why aren’t we moving on this? Why aren’t we burning down my father’s club? No meeting place—no cult.”
Urban pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t say I disagree.” He and Harlowe had been roused and here by the time he’d returned from a petite, spoiled angel telling him that she was in no way allowing him to withdraw his side of the agreement.
Odessa was right. Persephone sensed how badly he wanted out and had put her dainty little foot down. He’d be irate, but he saw the flash of panic in her eyes, the fear of rejection. She had daddy issues. Or since her mother was a well-respected and well-liked senator, maybe it was mommy issues. He was caught in a power play that he had no business in.
His drama took a back seat to the attack on Felicia and its ramifications.
“This was planned,” Dionna said. “They weren’t lucky that they caught Felicia with only one guard. They knew where we were, and when only one guard would be here, but they didn’t know Felicia’s skill level. Or they didn’t believe it.”
Director Vale’s stern expression was leveled on the oriental rug Jagger had purchased and hauled here from the human realm shortly after he’d bought the home. “Just like they knew about all of us gathered at Odessa’s.”
“And where Felicia lived,” Jagger
added. “We have a leak.”
Everyone in the room eyed everyone else. Finally, Bronx shrugged. “I trust everyone here. I mean, I don’t know Felicia well, but it doesn’t make sense that she’d set herself up to be attacked.”
Jagger nodded. They all felt the same.
“Everyone here,” Urban said. “Anyone hear from Sierra lately?”
Harlowe scoffed. “It couldn’t be Sierra.”
Bronx shook his head, but his brow creased.
They all fell quiet.
“We should check on her,” Director Vale finally said. “Make sure our hacker hasn’t been hacked. Make sure the demons don’t have her under surveillance. Hell, make sure fucking Jameson—”
“With all due respect, Director,” Dionna cut in, “perhaps what we do next is better done without you knowing. Act first, ask permission later.”
Jagger and the rest of his team nodded. Director Vale’s amber gaze jumped to hers. “Sometimes the less I know the better, but not with this. You’re not going off like renegades and giving those insidious voices in the senate a reason to whisper that we’re the treasonous ones.”
Dionna’s lips thinned but she inclined her head. “We will check on Sierra and go after demons—concentrating on those linked to Jameson Haddock’s nightclub. Waiting around is hazardous to our health.”
A thought occurred to him and it had nothing to do with the driving need to get Felicia alone and ask her how she was really doing. “Felicia and I need to go off grid.” Both his superiors gave him a sharp look, and he didn’t miss the optimism in Felicia’s face. “They found me at her apartment. They got to her here. The hunted need to become the hunters. I’ll report to Dionna using various covert methods and she’ll pass on enough to soothe Odessa’s worries for her sister.”
The more he described his plans, the better they sounded. Move forward, not sit and wait.
The director scrubbed a hand over his face. “No. You need to stay put, at least for a while. Throw them off, wondering what we’re doing.” Jagger opened his mouth to argue but the director had already moved on to Urban. “We aren’t making headway learning where Kenton and Stede scurried to, or who else they’re working with here. See if Sierra can help us out, and dammit, if we seem to get farther away instead of closer, then we’ll know without asking.”
“You got it, boss.”
There had to be a good reason for him and Felicia to get the hell out of this prison he called home. He was sick of being around Valerina’s style and just…needed space.
He and Felicia alone in the human realm. At one time, he’d cursed his fate. Now, he wished he could pack a bag.
Chapter 12
“You haven’t mentioned your son lately.” Lindy’s soft voice brought him back to the comfortable bed he was in. Naked, but unsated. Sleeping with Lindy now was like going through a drive-thru when he’d just left a Michelin-starred restaurant. “How’s he doing? You were worried.”
Lindy asking after Julian should warm him, but the only question going through his mind was, Why does she want to know? When he’d returned to the club, Lindy hadn’t been around. Not unusual. He often handed her a wad of money and told her to entertain herself.
But maybe since he’d been thrusting inside another woman, he suddenly wondered what Lindy did with her time. And with whom.
Someone who also wondered about Julian?
Chanel’s visit had started this whole mind fuck he was stuck in. Seeing her had reminded him of how much he’d admired her wings. The stormy gray of a summer sky—so at odds with her demeanor. He used to stroke them until his erection was painful. They used to spend whole days in bed, their wings intertwined.
He had a thing for wings. Something he honestly hadn’t remembered until he’d seen her. Then again when Sierra had been standing with her darkness-flecked wings open behind her.
“Jameson?” Lindy blinked her big blue eyes at him.
He should move on, send Lindy back to the dance floor and pick up another devoted disciple. But Lindy was here and oh so willing to help him get over lusting after a forbidden angel. Anyone who tangled with Sierra would have two worlds colliding over their heads.
Besides, Lindy had a brain behind those lips that could suck exhaust from a semi’s tailpipe. He was starting to wonder how she used it. Lindy was the longest relationship he’d had since the woman who’d turned on him with the help of his mate and cost him everything. He hadn’t misplaced his trust again, had he? “It’s best if I keep my distance from my son.”
Disappointment crossed her face, but she nodded. “I understand. It’s not like you dabble in a safe business.”
He’d asked her once what had brought her to the club. Why get the black rose tattoo that signaled she was willing to do his demon bidding?
She’d wanted to be useful for more than sex.
He hadn’t used her for more than sex.
She traced a finger over his bare chest. “Andy said the club’s numbers are better than ever.”
Suspicion crept in. He couldn’t help it. Ever since his little discovery, his paranoia had leveled up. So what was she talking to Andy about? Was she lonely when he conducted his business?
He trusted Andy more than her—and what the hell would they have to talk about? “Are you and Andy swapping thoughts on the best nail color?”
She scowled, genuine hurt rolling off her. “No. I got bored when you were in Atlanta.”
Bored. She asked about his son and then dropped that she’d hit up his assistant for conversation. His assistant who was his right hand.
What was she up to?
His phone rang. He rolled away, letting the thousand-count, steel-gray Egyptian cotton sheets slip off him. Grabbing the phone, he checked the screen, guessing who it was before he saw the name.
Andy spoke before he answered. The man was good at his job. “Stede is walking through the doors.”
What the hell did that male want now? Jameson suppressed a growl and got out of bed. Cool air hit his bare butt cheeks.
“Important meeting?” Lindy followed him until she was on her belly, her ass in the air, her heels swinging.
“A necessary one.” Fucking Stede. The male was no longer useful, yet he and Kenton dogged Jameson’s heels like needy puppies.
He dressed. No sweats or sweaters for him. He pulled on the red shirt and black suit he’d stripped out of when he’d bent Lindy over the mattress.
As he approached his conference room, he straightened his tie. His loafers barely made a sound on the hardwood floor. He took his time. By the time Stede gained access to the third level of his warehouse-turned-club, he’d have to be ushered to the meeting room by Andy. Jameson didn’t want to arrive first, and he’d prefer to keep Stede waiting a good long while.
The male was too comfortable entering his club. Jameson had watched him before. The male strode past the line of club-goers awaiting entry like he was a VIP. He even had the nerve to demand free drinks.
And the fucking bartenders served him. Jameson’s mouth twitched when he recalled the look of awe on the bartenders’ faces. A real angel. One that was on their side, not one of the sanctimonious angels who roamed the Earth striving to keep humans in their place—or so Jameson had told those who followed him.
How easy it was to feed people’s sense of entitlement, to warp their “fuck the man” attitude until they sold their souls to become part of a special club only a select few knew about. And Stede being in on the secret only supported the blame they pointed toward angels. If this angel disagreed with how his people treated humans, it really must be their fault there wasn’t enough money, power, sex, or fill-in-the-blank to go around.
A real angel indeed. Stede had nearly as much blood on his hands as Jameson, only he had earned his the hard way. He’d done a lot of the dirty work himself. Humans were disposable to him.
He approached the meeting room he preferred to do business in. It was as modern and sophisticated as the rest of the floor, with br
ass accents and a mahogany table. Not one ounce of marble in the entire building.
The low rumble of voices filtered out. Good. Stede had been kept waiting.
Jameson strode in like he owned the place—because he did. “Stede, you must have some interesting developments to grace my club.”
He evaluated the room. Andy was in his typical position. A laptop was open in front of him, a pen three inches to the right of his right hand, a notepad one inch from the pen, and he was dressed in a plain gray suit with a black tie. Stede looked like he’d seen better days. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and his thick, dark hair looked like it had been hand combed to the side. Jameson only ever dealt with Stede on Earth, but it was unusual to see the male in plain blue jeans and a blue T-shirt.
Perhaps a little bit of Stede’s hubris was squashed now that he was unable to go back home. Jameson rather hoped he tried. If Stede were apprehended by some do-gooder angels, it would relieve a lot of headaches for him.
He selected the chair across from Stede with Andy at his right. Fitting, because Andy was his right-hand man. Once the human had scrambled into his life, looking for a job to support Jameson’s cause, his plans had moved ahead at light speed.
Stede glared at him. “Want to tell me what you’re up to, fallen?”
Touchy. What had crawled up his cross and died? “I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re talking about. Though I do understand that after being kicked out of Numen you’re a little cranky.”
Stede’s expression morphed enough to reveal the cruelty underneath, then it was back to a simple scowl. “Our plans before included all of us, but since I’ve been stuck in this godforsaken realm, you haven’t shared much detail with me. But I doubt you’ve been stagnant. You’re still forging ahead and I want in on the plan.”
Jameson spread his hands as if he were helpless against past developments. “I’ve had to make do without you and Kenton in the realm. How is the good senator?”
“Hookers and blow are occupying his mind. I think we can count Kenton out.” Stede leveled him with a dark stare. “But I’m still in this. You and I are still working together. I imagine Gerzon would have something to say if your agenda has changed.”
Wicked Fire: Angel Fire, book 2 Page 12