Jameson’s mouth curled into a snarl that was gone so fast she doubted what she’d seen. “Indeed. They healed well, I assume.” Bitterness dripped from his tone.
“Angel fire.”
He sucked in a breath as his shoulders flexed and relaxed, like she did when her back ached. It wasn’t a comfort, seeing that, decades later, the trauma of his own experience was still so immediate for him. She only had one decade under her belt. Did it ever get better?
“And his reason?” Jameson asked in a deceptively placid voice.
“To coerce my father into covering for those you were working with. I wasn’t even sixteen.”
His jaw clenched and released. Jameson didn’t seem like a guy who got ruffled easily. His success in this realm, judging by the evidence of the packed club full of his dedicated disciples, was more than he’d probably imagined when his bloody, battered, wingless body had been dumped in Vegas. But her story bothered him. As if he’d thought that only those who “deserved it” were mowed down to pave the way for his ambitions.
“That is unfortunate.” Was that sympathy in his gaze? “However, I stand by my earlier statement.”
“Even though he’s working on finding out what advantages your blood would give him?”
His gaze cooled until she wondered if Chanel had been the only iceberg in their relationship. Suppressing a shiver, she forced herself to meet his eyes. She’d just handed over her only bargaining chip, but the glimpse into how much it affected him was worth it. He did not like or want his fellow conspirators to know he was gathering Daemon metal.
“And you think you know this why?”
She glanced around. No one was bothering them. Spies were probably stuffed in each corner, but she wasn’t concerned about being seen with him. Willing or not, she was part of the investigation. While sometimes she thought losing her wings would save more pain than it’d cause, Bryant would back her up. They were all in this investigation too deep to worry about getting punished for having to talk to a fallen—especially this fallen. “I overheard. He’s searching the archives. Looking for a secret about you.”
“And what do you think about that?”
“Jagger and I,” she said intentionally, studying his reaction, “haven’t dwelled on it much. We’re more interested in Stede.”
His face was a mask of mild interest. “Cut the head off a snake and it’ll grow three more, Ms. Montclaire. Are you sure you want to go up against Stede?”
Did that mean he was willing to help her? Why? He must have more contacts, or was he willing to burn one that could come and go from Numen in order to spare his secret? “I want him to suffer like I’ve been suffering for the last eleven years.”
“Then you and I are much more alike than I initially thought.”
“And you and Jagger are more alike than I feared.”
What had made her say that? Jagger wouldn’t cheat on her.
No, but he’d cheated on his contract and dragged her into it. Rumors were easier to ignore when they weren’t true.
“My son is nothing like me.”
“So he’s like his mother?”
The flare of his nostrils was horribly satisfying. Jameson lived in an empire he’d built with people catering to him left and right. While he might have to navigate the intricacies of working with demons and angels alike for a semi-shared goal, he didn’t often have to question his own actions. She knew the type. As long as others served his own needs, he had no need to.
His hard gaze swept the street. “Ms. Montclaire, perhaps you should visit any acquaintances you have in Vegas. You never know what might turn up.” His intense chartreuse gaze pinned her. “I’m not one to stand in the way of revenge.”
“Not when it suits you.”
The corner of his mouth hitched up. They would’ve gotten along in another life.
* * *
They had no idea he was there. More importantly, Felicia had no idea he was there. He’d come to the human realm and bought a wig and club clothes, because if Felicia was hunting down Stede, then she’d have to go to his father for information. She knew no one else who had enough information to get her close to him. He’d have to thank Odessa later for this.
Jagger finished watching the conversation between Father and Felicia. Once Father strode back to the club and mingled with his adoring fans, Jagger veered around the corner, his long legs eating up the distance between him and his target.
Like him, she was in disguise. Two could play the wig game and tonight, he’d brought the wig game hard. Floppy brown hair lay across his brow like he was a teen heartthrob, but nothing about his fitted-to-within-an-inch-of-his-life slacks said boy band. His pants were black and so was the stylishly haphazard suit coat that hung unbuttoned over a white shirt that wasn’t tucked in. The overall image was nothing like he usually dressed, topped off with contacts that made his eyes a doe brown. He was pleased with how well the ensemble hid his weapons.
Felicia ducked into a darkened alcove outside the entrance of a vape shop.
“Don’t you dare ascend,” he growled.
She popped out, her eyes wide. She made a good redhead. Sexy as hell, but he’d love to see her natural locks flow over her sinfully pushed-up cleavage. “What are you doing following me? I was trying to decide whether to gut you or run like hell.”
Neither one would’ve worked. “What am I doing? Why are you at Fall From Grace? Talking to my father?”
She drew back, slamming her hands on her hips. Unfortunately, it drew his eyes to the swath of creamy flesh she’d left exposed. He wanted to lick his tongue across it. “Eyes up here.” She pointed to her face.
“The sync contract is shredded.”
Hurt flashed through her face but she maintained her strong stance. “And?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said that.”
“I didn’t realize that I hadn’t told you what exactly had happened, or how the contract would make you feel.”
“You said that too.”
He lifted his hands. “What can I do?” He wasn’t leaving her here to roam Vegas by herself doing God knows what.
“Help me track down Stede. Your father gave me some cryptic advice I can’t figure out.”
If that was as much as he’d get, he’d take it. “Done, but first I have to get a message to Director Vale and your sister that I found you. He also wants me to update Sierra, but—”
She snapped her fingers. “That’s what he meant.”
He was obviously missing something.
“Jameson told me to visit any acquaintances or contacts in town. I was like, who the hell do I know in Vegas? But Sierra’s set up shop here.”
His gut squirmed. Informing Sierra they were in town didn’t sit well, and he should feel the opposite. She was one of his team. He’d entrusted his life to her over and over.
Felicia narrowed her eyes. “What’s going through your mind?”
“Do you have a room here? Somewhere we can talk in private?”
Her gaze swept down to his Vans and back up. “Do you really think we need to be in private when we look like this?”
“We should leave the neighborhood, though. Did you rent a car?”
“Nope.”
He called a car and sent a message to the director. The driver met them a few blocks from where he’d initially made the call and Jagger paid him to weave through Vegas. Confident they’d lost any tails, he and Felicia disembarked at a twenty-four-hour diner, the type of place that was quiet enough he could snag a corner booth and watch all the exits, but busy enough to keep them from standing out. The smell of fried food woke his stomach up. His appetite had vanished with Felicia.
She sat across from him, avoiding his gaze as she perused the menu. Slapping the menu down, she stared at him. “Want to tell me why you’re hesitant to report to Sierra? Do you think it was the right call to check into her?”
His gaze flicked to the approaching server. He waited until Felici
a ordered a sunrise feast before asking for the same. His mind wasn’t in a state to decide and he’d been around her long enough to know that he’d eat whatever she did.
Once they were alone again, he answered. “It was the right call no matter what. I should be confident that nothing will be found, that she’s tight and only looking out for the team and the realm. I’m not. It’s a gut feeling and I can’t explain it and it makes me feel like shit.”
“Well, gut feelings come from somewhere, so let’s lay it out. I don’t know much about her so tell me the basics.”
It felt way too natural to sit in this generic diner and discuss his intuition and how it related to his job. After their tension-laden time together, this looseness was nice. He’d have to earn her trust again, and they had bigger issues than them to worry about. There would be no them if Stede or Father followed through on whatever they were planning.
He started in. “Sierra is reserved. Not quiet, though. Once you get her talking, she gets animated, then falls silent almost as if she’s afraid of what she might say. But she’s killer with tech so she stays on Earth where she can plug into the grid. That many devices would be too hard to power in Numen. She takes care of our phones and any additional comms we might need, and she hacks like a beast.”
“She doesn’t fight with you?”
He recalled their training days. “She was a couple years behind me in training, but I know she’s skilled, like any of us. It’s just that being more adept in technology made her work here critical. I mean, our teams are made up of seven warriors and in the old days that might have been necessary, but with modern advancements, it’s getting to be overkill if all any of us can do is fight.”
“You don’t need the numbers to watch each other’s back or run messages back and forth anymore.” She pushed her hair out of her face, but all he saw was the curtain of strands parting to reveal ample cleavage.
“Yep.” He lifted his gaze. She’d caught him watching and draped the hair back. Since he wasn’t usually a lecher, he strove to keep his eyes above her collar line. He’d seen every glorious inch of her, but he’d have to wait until she allowed him to see it again.
“She’s isolated in the human realm. Think they got to her?”
He shook his head. “No. I mean, they could try but they couldn’t crack her.”
“We all have our secrets, Jagger.” He didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility and she must’ve sensed it. She pushed. “Think of all the young little angels born twenty years ago. Don’t they sigh as you, a big mighty warrior, saunter by? They think you’re infallible. They don’t know your past.”
He knew where she was going with this. “Because they don’t know what happened to my father.” And they wouldn’t understand why Felicia had her wings tucked in. Her story was a secret, and his was supposed to be long forgotten.
“Bingo.”
The greasy aroma of their food hit him before the server reached the table. Felicia dug in and gave him an expectant look.
“Who would get to her? And why?” he asked. There had to be another reason.
She stuffed a forkful of pancake into her mouth and held up a finger until she swallowed. “I can see you’re still doubtful. Let’s try the others. Dionna?”
“She’s been around most of the time. Her mate is doing relief work in Somalia.”
“Someone could’ve gotten to him, but I have a feeling that Dionna wouldn’t let that shit fly. She’d break whoever messed with her—or him.”
“Agreed. Urban, Bronx, and Harlowe are all in a similar category. They’re all single, they’ve been on the clock with us since the beginning, and…” He sighed and stabbed a pile of scrambled eggs with his fork. “And I don’t get the gut feeling about them.”
“Then find out where Sierra is and let’s spy on her.”
Chapter 15
Stakeouts were more boring than they appeared on TV. On shows, they looked dull for no more than five minutes, then boom! Action.
Felicia sighed and dug out another handful of dill-pickle sunflower seeds. This had attained a new level of monotony. “It’s a blessing that I can’t die of sodium overload.”
The muscle in Jagger’s jaw jumped. He’d been irritable ever since they’d climbed to the bell tower of the nearby church. Hardly anyone went up here and the bell wasn’t in use anymore. Aside from some dust and cobwebs, it was quiet and high enough to see two blocks away to where Sierra’s rental was. And bonus, if anyone heard scraping or movements coming from up here, they’d think it was either mice or the spirits of the nearby graveyard.
“But then you drink a lot of water and risk busting us by going to pee all the time.”
And grumpy struck again. She’d made him get a separate room at the hotel, but he’d gotten an adjoining room. The front desk clerk had initially said they were full and given Felicia an “are you all right” look.
Keep the damn door between the rooms unlocked, he’d growled.
Truly, she’d been enjoying herself. For once, she had the upper hand between them. Her resolve was strong. He had to prove himself if he wanted more with her. She wasn’t in line for a relationship. Certainly not one that would take her back to Numen. They could live apart—
What was she thinking?
Uh, maybe that her no-relationship resolve had crumbled as soon as he’d entered her? Before that even, when his tongue had danced with hers.
But really, had anything changed? She and her broken wings weren’t going to live in Numen, where she’d garner pitying looks day after day, reminding her what she’d been through.
No, thank you.
Jagger was dedicated to his job and while she might’ve wormed her way under his skin, he was still Jagger, the male who wanted to distance himself from his father’s reputation. She still had a reputation of her own. He might’ve forgotten but once the guilt passed he’d remember. And then he’d hold it over her—again—like everyone else did. As if enjoying sex—rather the temporary moments she felt more pleasure than pain—was wrong.
Did she really think that a sync meant happily ever after? She’d pass on that fairy tale. But his momentary temper tantrum and sulking were enjoyable.
She chugged her water and tossed in another handful of seeds. “I went to one of my students’ Little League baseball games once. That’s where I was introduced to these seeds.”
He glanced from the seeds to her, then grabbed the bag. “I never saw the point in these things. Why not just buy them shelled already?” Dumping a small pile into his hands he gave them a brief frown before stuffing them into his mouth. His left cheek pouched out.
“Oral gratification.”
He coughed, two seeds spitting from between his lips. His glower was adorable. An invisible string tugged at her heart. If only things were different between them.
That way lie insanity, but it was hard to forget the blast of pleasure that had chased away her constant aches for hours, even after he’d opened his mouth.
The muffled cracking of seeds in their mouths was the only sound. She was rearranging their water bottles next to the notepads they wrote car descriptions and times down on when Jagger shifted.
“What do we have here?” He put the binoculars to his face and she did the same. He hadn’t spared any expense, and since she didn’t have much money left, she let him pay for everything, including the hotel rooms.
Focusing on Sierra’s small, square rental, she watched a male exit a nondescript black sedan. Was it him? A stocky, dark-haired male strode up the door and knocked like he was going to shout, “Police, open up!”
“Is that him?” she breathed, afraid to have confirmation. Then her personal nightmare would finally have a face.
She was afraid Jagger wouldn’t answer, but he finally said, “Yes.”
Air whooshed out of her lungs. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. She wanted to run. She wanted to go kill him now. She wanted to tuck herself into Jagger’s side and just be held.
“We’ll get him, and we’ll do it so you don’t get taken down with him.”
Right. Only two of her three options would let her continue living her normal life. If she killed him in cold blood, revenge or not, she’d be punished. Her realm might only have one punishment, but it was effective at keeping the peace.
Stede disappeared into the house, his hands gesturing. She couldn’t make out who opened the door.
“I wish we could listen.”
He dropped his binoculars. “It’d help. Too bad Sierra’s the one we’d ask to get listening devices.”
She chuckled, but it came out too high-pitched. Her nerves were fraying the longer they sat two blocks from her attacker. “The irony.”
Jagger twisted to face her. “He won’t hurt you again, Felicia.”
“I know. But he did.”
His hand twitched like he was going to touch her but reconsidered. Gathering their supplies into the tote bags they’d used to haul them up here—much quieter than a wrinkly plastic bag—he said, “At least we know that there’s a legitimate reason why I was concerned about Sierra.”
“Are you going to report to Bryant? Or to Dionna?” Cavorting with the enemy. What was Sierra up to?
“I’ll have to.” He finished shoving her bag of seeds away. “But if we get to the car, we can follow the fucker.”
* * *
Jagger had picked up some tailing skills in his time as a warrior. Possessed humans moved freely among other humans, only unlike other humans, they were constantly on the lookout for warriors who planned to exorcize and kill them.
This was a different situation. Stede would be cautious, maybe paranoid. And Jagger couldn’t tackle him into the Mist and kill him. He was an angel. He’d committed a crime and would need to be tried by the senate. Usually, an enforcer would be sent to apprehend Stede, but since Stede used to be an enforcer—and had attacked Felicia—Jagger had no plans to turn him over to anyone else.
He scanned this area of town. Stucco houses and bars on the windows and doors. For Vegas, it wasn’t unusual, but for an angel who lived in a pretty moderate part of the realm, it was not expected. He’d thought a male with the connections Stede had would be in higher-end accommodations, where he didn’t have to clean up after himself. These were working-class houses.
Wicked Fire: Angel Fire, book 2 Page 16