Deliver Me from Temptation

by Tes Hilaire

  Throwing a quick shield across the door, he grasped her good hand, laying his other palm against her cheek, placing his face right near hers as he tried to talk her down. “It’s okay, Jessica. Breathe in, and out. In…”

  He glanced at the door, then back at the machines. She was breathing easier and the beeping machines quieted. He waited a couple more minutes, but when her breath remained even and there was no banging on the door, he sat back, letting his hold on the shield go.

  “You okay?” he asked, pushing a tear-slicked strand of hair from her temple.

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t had one of those in forever.”

  “Forever being when Julia died?”

  She clamped her lips tight, looking away, if not confirmation than a really big clue.

  It didn’t matter anyway. Obviously it took a pretty intense trauma to send his little warrior into a panic attack, which, ironically was too bad. He could have handled a woman prone to panic attacks. What he couldn’t handle was this death wish his mate seemed to have.

  “Did it ever occur to you that Grim could have set you up?”

  She turned her face away, her lips pulled tight between her teeth.

  “Jessica?”

  She sighed, turning her head back. “Doesn’t matter if he did or didn’t.”

  “It doesn’t matter?”

  “No, because if I’m right, then Thomas Rhodes may have been killed by the same man the victim in the Dumpster was killed by. But without any leads I can’t do anything. Whether Grim is in trouble or was baiting me doesn’t matter because either way, he’s involved, and if I play my cards right, I can use him to track the bastard down.”

  “Does finding their killer matter more than your life?” he asked tightly.

  Her lips firmed, her jaw line getting the stubborn set to it that he was becoming used to seeing. “Finding the killer is the only thing that matters.”

  Logan hung his head. The killer. Not their killer or Tom’s killer, but the killer. And by using those words she confirmed his greatest fear. The reckless passion she had for her job wasn’t so much a calling as a personal quest. Whether the victim was a senator, a hobo, an innocent bystander, or a drug dealer didn’t matter. What mattered was that someone had killed them. Someone had unnaturally ended their life. And Jessica was so damn good at tracking them down because to her, every killer out there became a representative of the bastards who took her sister away. And though she stopped short of all-out revenge, she was bound and determined to see them in the human’s version of Hell: behind bars, rotting their lives away. The problem was that it was consuming her life.

  Cancer. Her anger was a cancer eating at her from the inside out. He was beginning to fear that the only way to extract it was to eliminate the source. And he’d find a way to do it too, because protecting her in this life wasn’t enough. She was his mate: mind, heart, body, and soul. And if this cancer threatened her soul? Then he’d do anything to remove it. Anything.

  “God, Jessica. You are going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

  “What did you say?”

  He shook his head, standing.

  “Where are you going?”

  “There is something I have to do. But I’ll be back before they release you.” He stroked her cheek with his hand, basking in how she instinctively turned her face into it. It felt like the light of Heaven bathed over him when she whispered her next words.

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  “I won’t be long. Just do me a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  He lifted her hand with the IV, kissing the bruised skin around the bandage. “Don’t go anywhere this time.”

  ***

  Jessica stared at anything but the door Logan left through, refusing to allow the tears she felt pooling in her eyes to fall. Her hand still tingled from the kiss he’d pressed there. A kiss that had awakened every nerve, every memory of their time together.

  But it wasn’t that moment that told her she was completely sunk, it was when she first woke and saw him there and her heart did a pitter-patter. She knew because the machines told her so.

  Sitting there, so large and so obviously uncomfortable in the small plastic chair he looked so…human. Lines of strain she never noticed before. Not that she’d known him for long, but the time they shared had certainly been intimate enough that she would’ve thought to notice. Not to mention that immortal warriors weren’t supposed to look so susceptible.

  Oh yeah, she’d fully accepted that he was what he said he was. She’d meant to tell him. Meant to let him know she believed him now. Ask him to explain more about himself and what it meant for them. But his questions diverted her, rutting her in the cold-bone anger she always felt when she tracked a killer. She let him leave thinking the only thing that mattered in her life was the case, the chase, the capture. But that wasn’t the truth. Not anymore.

  She loved Logan. Sometime in the last three days, between all the craziness and the roller coaster ride of adrenaline and endorphins, she’d fallen for him. It scared the crap out of her. And yet it made her feel whole.

  But what good was love when there was no solid foundation for it. She couldn’t even tell him the truth.

  It wasn’t a man on the other side of her door, and it wasn’t a knife that had cut her. It was a demon—or something that looked hellish enough to be one.

  She’d never forget how that thing had smiled, saliva dripping from its razor-sharp teeth, its bottomless, black gaze inviting her into the depths of Hell. She hadn’t screamed, just grabbed her gun and started unloading bullets. But the thing didn’t even flinch, just stepped over the threshold and swiped the gun from her hand. She turned to run, her only thought to get to the knife Logan had given her. But then she tripped, crashed into the coffee table, and sent the knife skittering. She rolled, but the thing reached for her and she raised her arm. She’d never forget the fiery burn as it slashed through the skin, nor the triumphant gleam in its fathomless eyes as it had bent down and licked her gaping flesh.

  She’d been shocked, horror rolled through her, but then her training snapped into gear. The knife was right there, inches away. She punched and grappled with the…thing…and somehow managed to get close enough to grab the knife. Unfortunately it had been with her bad arm so the strike she got in was halfhearted at best, the tip barely sinking into the thing’s chest. It was a complete shock when the blade flared bright in her hand, the creature shrieking before it just…disappeared. Poof, a cloud of darkness, then nothing.

  She was also shocked to find herself bleeding all over her rug. It had burned so much as his claw dug in that she was sure it cauterized as it slashed. And though she tried to make a tourniquet out of a dish towel and a spoon, it was just as obvious she didn’t have the strength to do it properly.

  Even as she whimpered Logan’s name, she called Mike, knowing that since the attack was over, she had to get help fast, and Mike was her best bet. And as he screamed orders at the desk sergeant to get an ambulance and a police cruiser to her apartment, and then screamed orders at her as he jumped in his car to get to her, she tried to make coherent sentences in return—and watched herself bleed out.

  She didn’t want to die. Not now. Not ever. At least not without Logan to hold her.

  She wasn’t sure what happened next as everything had become a blur, but she did remember the banging on the door and her attempt to tell them it was unlocked, which might or might not have been heard since they opened it anyway and came in. After that, she just let go, and then woken up here. With Logan staring down at her.

  At first she thought it was a dream, until she’d noticed those lines of strain. If she was dreaming she certainly wouldn’t have made him look so dour and she certainly would’ve put them in a better setting than a sterile hospital room.

  A
nd his talk about her being the death of him? What the heck was that all about? If anything she was going to be the one to die first. According to him, he’d already lived for over a century; reason stood he could live almost forever…and she wouldn’t.

  But you have him right now, Jessica.

  She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. That was the other Jessica talking. The one who’d snickered along with her sixteen-year-old twin as they picked out their favorite from The Bachelorette’s lineup of men. The one who’d shared Julia’s dream of seeing her paintings in a gallery and had gone to business school to make it happen. The one who came alive under Logan’s skilled touch. But being that person was dangerous. If she let herself go, if she allowed herself to feel, she could be hurt. And he would hurt her. She was sure of it. Because former angel or not, what hot-blooded man—and damn was Logan hot—would stay with a woman when she was old and wrinkled and he was not?

  “So, you’re his little secret.”

  She looked up. A man stood in the door, the backlight shadowing his face but not his figure. Large, about Logan’s height though definitely not him. She would have known if it was.

  “Excuse me?” she asked, her hand slipping down over the call button. If this man so much as blinked wrong…

  He took a step into the room, the dim light over her bed illuminating his chestnut-colored hair. She sucked in a breath. It was still too difficult to make out his eyes but she would have taken a bet they were cloudy-day gray.

  “Logan. He’s been distracted and not exactly forthcoming in his answers. I figured it was something to do with his sister but now I understand. He’s been with you.”

  The way he said this suggested he didn’t think that was a good thing. She couldn’t explain why that upset her other than this man was no stranger. This man was Logan’s father. The resemblance was too uncanny otherwise. And if she’d had any lingering doubts of who, or rather what, Logan was, they would be gone now because physically Logan’s father didn’t look much older than his son. Except for his eyes. There was more than one lifetime of grief there.

  Logan’s mother. He never told me how his mother died. Had she been human?

  “You must be Logan’s father.”

  “Oh, hooray. At least he didn’t pick a complete dimwit.”

  And you must be an asshole. She refrained from saying that out loud, though she couldn’t seem to resist the urge to say something. “I am not some sort of flower to be picked. If I’m with your son it’s because we chose to be together.”

  “Really? You’re telling me that you haven’t been inexplicably drawn to him since the first moment you met? That you no doubt fell into his arms at the flimsiest of excuses?” He laughed. “Trust me, human. There was no choice because if there were, my son would never have chosen you.”

  She sucked in a breath at the tight pain in her chest. They were just words. Obviously meant to hurt. Though why a former angel would want to hurt her was beyond her. “It’s no wonder Logan doesn’t talk about you much. If you were my father I wouldn’t talk about you either.”

  His mouth thinned. He tapped his leg, then sat down in the plastic chair Logan had vacated fewer than twenty minutes before. She watched as he ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Just like Logan. And damn if that didn’t make her ache to have Logan near again.

  Where did he go? What was so important that he had to leave her alone in her hospital bed?

  “I apologize. My unkind words toward you are borne of frustration and worry. Nothing more.” Logan’s father lifted his head, his mouth tugging up at the corner. “I’m sure you are a fine human being.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she muttered.

  “You really don’t understand though, do you? You have no idea why I fear you being with my son.”

  “You already said. You think I’m a distraction. That he’s shirking his duties because of me.”

  “That too.”

  She lifted and dropped her hand in frustration. “I don’t see what the problem is. You’re all but immortal aren’t you? Ten, thirty, fifty years—if I’m lucky—and then I’ll be out of his life and out of your hair.”

  And there went the wet eyes again. Was she doomed to live her life grasping for but never being able to hold onto the things she loved? She swallowed, thinking of every absurd thing in the world to keep the moisture where it belonged. She would not cry in front of Logan’s father.

  He rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger—judging her. “I forget how selfish you humans can be.”

  “Selfish?” She wiped a renegade escapee tear away. “You think the thought of leaving him doesn’t kill me?”

  His face clouded over, fury sparking in his gaze—still gray, Logan hadn’t inherited the changeable iris color from his father it seemed. “You think this is killing you? What do you think is going to happen when he has to watch you die just a little bit each day?” He scoffed. “A Paladin and a human? It’s just not a compatible mating. Bad enough your human qualities will taint the pureness of his soul, but the effect your certain death will have on him?”

  She sucked in a breath, her heart thudding beneath her breast. Angry, hurt, confused. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, my dear, that if your human impurities don’t contaminate his soul beyond redemption, then your eventual death is sure to drive him insane. There has been only one other Paladin to ever form a full bond with a human, and he now sits by Lucifer’s side.”

  She sucked in a breath, an icy chill settling into her already cold core. “Lucifer? As in the devil?”

  He nodded and leaned forward. “Are you really so selfish as to condemn my son to eternal damnation?”

  Chapter 19

  “Wait, pull up that last email from the ME.”

  Bennett nodded, then doing some fancy dancing with his fingers across the touch screen, dragged over the correspondence and tapped it open. “You know, this would be easier with the fine detective’s computer.”

  Logan grunted. Probably so. Bennett had been working his magic; shifting through the cloud, skirting privacy settings to dig up the information Logan had requested.

  The mission started as a seed of an idea. An idea that had deep roots of evil. When Logan left her hospital room, he was determined to do whatever was necessary to save Jessica from herself. Tracking down Bennett and Alex in the waiting area was no harder than convincing Alex to stay and keep watch while Logan and Bennett went on a little excursion into the NYPD database. A shorter than average trip across town and less than five minutes after they’d entered The Bat Cave (what Bennett called the small room that actually lay outside the boundaries of Haven’s protective relic and thus not in a technological no-zone), Bennett had the files on Julia’s death. Logan wanted to know the names and locations of where her killers were being kept. Not sure why, unless he meant to kill them so they no longer haunted Jessica’s life, but as he stared at the boys’ mug shots, he realized he couldn’t do it. They were bastards of the highest order, but even they deserved a chance to redeem their souls. Besides, they weren’t worth the cost of his own. Especially if he hoped to one day find Jessica again in the afterlife in His realm.

  Time. Time would heal all wounds. With his help, Jessica could get past her pain and anger. She had to.

  The question was would there be enough time?

  He currently had Bennett pulling up everything he could find on the Thomas Rhodes case. It was more than he expected and far from what he hoped. Some of it was also extremely interesting.

  Mike had been researching them. Roland, Karissa, even Alexander and himself. The information he gathered was remarkable in that it wasn’t all fluff, and alarming in the way the cop had spun it in his notes, but nothing Logan really cared about. The dead informant was the key. The meeting in the alley was when the enemy had set
their focus on Jessica. Logan hoped that something would pop out that would put an end to this mess. The problem was there was no end. The ME’s report confirmed what he feared: He’d been right on who—or rather what—Tom’s killer was, and that thing wasn’t someone that the NYPD could put behind bars. One, because vampires were something they didn’t believe in, and two, because if the cops tried, they’d end up dead.

  No solutions. The case wasn’t ever going to be closed. Somehow, Logan had to convince Jessica to let the case die a natural death in the cold case file cabinet. She wasn’t going to be safe from the vampires until it was there.

  And you think she’ll be safe then? Now that you’re her mate and Ganelon knows about her?

  “Damn it all to Hell.”

  “Hmm?” Bennett asked absently, his fingers still flying.

  “Nothing. Sorry.” He sighed, running his hands over his face, the too-long-without-sleep grit in his eyes stinging the inside of his lids. Damn, when was the last time he slept—really slept, and not just a few half-hour cat-naps while he and Jessica had recovered from the mind-blowing sex?

  His phone vibrated. He straightened, shifting in the chair to pull it from his pocket. Not a call, but a text: Heads up. I’ve been reassigned. Thus far a steady stream of her cop friends have come through and nothing but yawns between.

  He frowned, unease skating up his spine. Alexander. He started to text the Paladin back, not comfortable with Jess’s only protection being her cop friends, when a sharp voice cracked through the air.

  “Logan!”

  Logan grit his teeth, flicking the phone shut. One guess on who yanked Alex from guard duty.

  Logan turned in his chair, drawing his shoulders back as he prepared for confrontation. “Yes, father?”

  “In my study, now,” Calhoun Senior said, jerking his head down the hall.

  Logan’s jaw ticked, but he pushed back the chair and stood to follow.

  “Good luck, Mate,” Bennett intoned softly. Logan nodded his thanks and kept on going.