Angel Bait (Angel Assassins #1)

by Tricia Skinner

Jarrid shook his head at Nestaron’s grin. They’d gotten off easy. His brother’s resonance power could shatter stone.

  “Yeah, he did,” Tanis said. “We all needed a time out.”

  Nesty groaned as The Act of Contrition burned through him. After a few minutes, his brother’s sweaty face offered a tight smile.

  “I know I’m gorgeous, but can you get your big ass off me?” Kas asked.

  Jarrid stood up and extended a hand. “Sorry.”

  Kas expelled a slow breath. “No, I shouldn’t have said that shit.”

  “The Directorate wired me tight,” Jarrid said. “They kicked me off the team and ordered me away from Ionie.”

  “The team’s been disbanded.”

  He gaped at Tanis. “Run that by me again.”

  “You walked in a few minutes after the decision came down,” the angel said. “The Eternal Order is mothballed until further notice, effective now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Stale air circulated through a narrow window in the bare-walled room. Ionie balanced on her toes on the edge of the steel bed frame, the only furniture her captor provided. She couldn’t reach the rusty latch that could lead to freedom. Dejected, she slid to the bed, curling her arms around her legs.

  Saul had tossed her in the prison hours ago. She shivered at the memory. The vampire hadn’t left her food, water, a blanket, or a mattress. Only the rectangular window provided a connection to the world outside. The sun cast a beam of light on a far wall. As time passed, the ray slipped minutely, signaling time’s passage. Despite her fear, the boredom was tedious.

  “Come on, Jarrid,” she said. “This is the part where you swoop in, guns blazing, wind rustling your hair.”

  She leaned back, a sob shaking her. She hadn’t asked for much. One story on angels, a permanent spot on the News staff, answers about her Mom. Her ticked off each item on her fingers.

  I’ve probably lost my job, my best friend is dead, I haven’t questioned any angels about Mom, and my boyfriend is an assassin.

  Saul’s words ate away at her as the day droned on. The room allowed her enough area to pace. Ionie circuited the cell while more memories crept in.

  Jarrid’s armoire packed with guns and daggers.

  The day he appeared at Patrick’s office asking about her crime stories.

  “That never did wash with me.”

  The fortress where he lived with his brethren.

  Saul’s attack outside night club.

  Jarrid’s eyes glowing. He’d poured his soul into her, sealing her wound.

  Those memories didn’t frighten her. The ones from her house did.

  JP’s corpse on the floor and her duplex turned into a scene from war-torn Afghanistan.

  The buzz of gunfire hummed in her ears.

  Jarrid took to fighting like it was second nature. So had Cain, Kas, and Nesty.

  “The Eternal Order, you daft idiot, are assassins.” The memory of Saul’s voice drummed in her brain.

  Assassins for Heaven? Christ, that would explain the fire power they’d unloaded at her house. Ionie couldn’t figure out why Jarrid never told her. Doesn’t he trust me? She’d shared her past with him — and his bed. She bristled, recalling her lover’s reluctance at Jimmy’s restaurant. Had she spooked him, or was he keeping his distance for a reason?

  The wire bed spring creaked as she curled herself into a ball.

  She never felt herself drift off, but the click of a door unlocking banished sleep from her mind. The darkened room turned bright as harsh light flicked on.

  “Dreaming of me?”

  She glared at Saul. “Let me go. Now!”

  He smirked and shook his head. “I’ve brought you a tasty piece of information. You don’t want to leave before you’ve heard it, do you?”

  Ionie rose to her feet. She planned to keep a good distance between her and the vampire. “The only thing I want is to see you in custody for kidnapping.”

  He threw his head back and laughed.

  I hope Jarrid rips your lungs out. She peeked over Saul’s shoulder at the opened door. Maybe she could make a run for it. Where’d he stash her? Were they still in Detroit? She’d find a phone and …

  “Your lover and his freak family are unemployed, princess,” Saul said.

  Ionie arched a brow. “I’m supposed to believe you?”

  “You want to believe the half-breed is on his way to save you,” he said. “I hope he tries. I only wish I could see his face when he gets my message.”

  An uneasy feeling spread through her. The vamp looked too pleased with himself, too certain his information would be a game changer. Her instincts triggered dread in her gut.

  She had to ask. “What message?” If the news could hurt Jarrid, she was determined to find a way to help him.

  “You love him, don’t you?”

  Ionie stood rigid near the wall. Did she love Jarrid?

  Stupid question. She loved him the moment she stood outside his home, drawn to him like Velcro. He’s mysterious, handsome, and innocent in some ways.

  “I’ll assume I’m right,” Saul said. “Here’s where the fun begins.”

  He strode across the room until he backed her into the wall. Ionie refused to cower. She lifted her chin and stared into the vampire’s red eyes.

  “Tell me, how does it feel to be bait?” Saul asked with a toothy grin.

  “I’m not a fish.”

  His moved his finger to stroke her face. She turned away and he lowered his hand. “Your boyfriend hunts wayward angels, like my business partner. The Renegade, as he’s called, was looking for you.”

  Ionie blinked. “Me? Why?”

  “You’re linked,” he said. “The half-breed found out and got to you first. Since you’re connected to my partner, Jarrid set you up.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He’s lying! He’s lying! She repeated the words like a prayer.

  “Then explain why a member of an assassin brotherhood, secretive and standoffish, would seek out someone like you — a plain, unremarkable, news reporter.”

  Jarrid needed my help.

  “He drags you to a club known to exclude Humans,” he said. “The regulars laughed their asses off watching you slut-dancing with a nephilim.”

  Ionie’s heart withered in her chest, but she listened, mortified by Saul’s stinging revelation.

  “That prick dangled you in front of the non-human underworld so word would get back to his target. I took a nip at his bait, and here we are.”

  She lowered her gaze, unable to stomach the sight of the vampire’s gloating face. Was this true? Part of her wanted to laugh at Saul and denounce him on his flare for fiction. Yet she didn’t hear any internal alarms ringing.

  Ionie bit her trembling lip. Bait. Sudden nausea twisted her stomach and made her legs shake. Unable to support her quivering limbs, she crumpled to the cold concrete floor. Bait.

  Somehow she knew the vampire hadn’t lied. Jarrid had used her from the start.

  • • •

  Saul watched the shell-shocked woman slide to the floor. Satisfaction surged through him.

  Almost better than sex. Hell, he’d pay to do it all over again, but seeing part of his plan administered was worth it. He stared down at her. As far as Ionie was concerned, her lover’s a bigger pile of shit than she’d imagined. On that, he agreed.

  “Go ahead and bawl your eyes out. The real pain comes later.”

  He sauntered out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and headed to the core of his hideout. Inside the two-story building his hand-picked team of killers milled around, waiting for orders. They were his most ardent supporters — vampires who’d proven vicious, blood thirsty, and hungry to rise in Detroit’s power struc
ture.

  All loyal to me.

  One sniveling wretch caught his attention. Oren.

  Good. He had another assignment for the snitch.

  “Go to the half-breeds’ headquarters and deliver a message for me.”

  “Hell no,” Oren cried. “I passed your message to the angels. I’m not going anywhere close to those killers!”

  Saul ignored the outburst. “You should worry more about what will happen if you don’t do as you’re told.”

  “But they’ll kill me!”

  “So will I.” He glanced at the shaking vampire. “Choose.”

  Oren’s mouth fell open like a fish sucking in air. Whatever the fool decided, Saul relished the idea of gutting the sell out before the night ended, if the assassins didn’t do it first.

  “Okay, but this is the last time I’m acting like fucking Federal Express,” the snitch said.

  Keep mouthing off. Saul’s mood turned stormy. If a nothing like Oren dared challenge him, how many vamps would he need to wipe out before he controlled the city?

  Beleth better hold up his end and supply backup when I call.

  Speaking of … he still hadn’t told the angel he’d captured Ionie.

  A new notion formed in his mind. The Renegade’s powers were formidable, but could he kill the assassins? Saul’s position would strengthen if he didn’t have the Order lurking in the shadows, waiting for payback.

  Maybe Beleth could take down one or two of the half-breeds with his freaky power. Saul analyzed the possibilities. Any nephilim survivors would keep the Renegade as public enemy number one, leaving him alone. And if Beleth was killed, his friends in Heaven might be willing to deal with the Motor City’s new vampire kingpin.

  He beamed a smile at Oren. “I promise this will be your last run as messenger. Now, listen up.”

  • • •

  Kas scowled at the security feed. “What the hell does he want?”

  Jarrid leaned over to get a look at the skinny vampire’s image on the monitor. The bloodsucker paced in front of the Stronghold’s closed gates, careful not to leave the camera’s line of sight. The guy wanted to be noticed.

  He checked his gun clips with efficient fingers, and then touched his brother’s shoulder. “If he twitches, I’ll smoke him.”

  Kas gave a terse nod and tapped a series of keys. The camera switched to infrared view.

  Vamp bodies ran cold under that imaging. Their guest displayed pools of red and orange color near his head, chest, and hands. The vamp had to be scared shitless to generate the heat signature. Jarrid smiled. Loitering outside a warehouse full of assassins would terrify a Navy SEAL.

  He touched his earpiece and exited the surveillance room. “I’m heading out.”

  “The roof’s covered,” Cain said in his ear. “Nesty’s eyeballing the vamp through the sniper rifle.”

  “I’ve got your six,” Tanis said next.

  Always watching my back. He didn’t ask Cain’s position. The vamp hadn’t noticed he’d picked up a second shadow near the entrance.

  Jarrid stomped toward their quarry in the crisp evening wind. The vamp’s eyes bulged in their sockets at Jarrid’s approach. His leather trench flared, revealing the toys strapped to his body. “If you’re here to sell Amway, I’ll kick your ass.”

  The vampire’s Adam’s Apple bobbed. Jarrid pressed his lips in a hard line. He’d seen some ugly bloodsuckers in his day, but this one was nothing but gaunt skin stretched over protruding bones.

  “What do you want?” Jarrid asked.

  “I … I’m Oren, the local information broker. I have a message for the … the leader of the … the Order.”

  “He’s listening,” Jarrid said. Tanis and the others could hear the conversation.

  “Saul has the Scribe. He … he said the woman will die if your leader doesn’t meet him tonight.”

  Jarrid grabbed the vampire’s neck and lifted him off his feet. “Where is she?”

  Oren sputtered and squirmed.

  Cain stepped into view. “Easy J, we need an address.”

  “If you kill me, you won’t get squat.”

  “Oh, you feeling brave, my man?” Cain asked. “Maybe I should explain how many ways Jarrid can kill you without killing you. Get my drift?”

  The vampire went still. “He … he’s Jarrid?”

  “The one and only,” Jarrid said.

  “Saul has a message for you, too.”

  If Jarrid never heard that name again, he’d be set for life. “Spit it out.”

  “He said your secret is out and your angel bait hasn’t moved an inch since he told her.”

  Jarrid’s body iced over.

  “Oh shit,” Cain said, lowering his head.

  Ionie knew.

  God of All, she heard it from that fucking vampire?

  He couldn’t breathe. He stumbled back, away from Oren’s confused face and Cain’s sympathetic gaze. Over his earpiece the tinny voices of Kas, Tanis, and Nesty faded into a static buzz. Jarrid’s vision blinked in and out.

  He pictured Ionie’s eyes staring at him with accusation. Her mouth, which introduced him to the most unimaginable pleasures, would never whisper his name with affection. There would be nothing left of the woman who gave her trust to him — a man so blinded by his goals he’d forgotten that he risked more than Ascension.

  He forgot love could turn to hate.

  “What’s the address?” Cain asked.

  Jarrid looked at Oren. He fisted his hands, ready to beat the information out of the bloodsucker.

  “I don’t have anything to do with Saul, or the Scribe,” the vamp said. “He’s a maniac. I hope you kill him.”

  “I guarantee it,” Jarrid said. “Saul died the second he took my woman.”

  “I had no part in that shit. Saul’s buddy-buddy with an angel. They’re gonna meet tonight at the old Wonderbread factory. The place is packed with goons, and they’re armed to the fangs with shit I’ve never seen before. You go in there and you’re walking into Hell.”

  “I’m already in Hell, snitch,” Jarrid said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Jarrid threw open his closet door, his mind on auto pilot. He grabbed his backup gear, adding extra clips and throwing daggers to the heavy arsenal he wore. Saul’s hideout would be crammed with vamps armed for a war. No problem. They’ll get one.

  His plan was simple.

  Save Ionie.

  Kill Saul.

  Kill Beleth.

  Kill anything with fangs.

  Screw the Directorate. Those pricks want Beleth back in Heaven? Cool. They’ll get him in a body bag.

  Jarrid slammed the armoire shut, cracking the antique up the center. As he stormed out of the closet, the imposing bed caught his attention. Ionie should be laying there, curled into the soft warmth, his arms around her slim waist.

  He shoved the romantic notion away. When he got her back, he’d be lucky if she let him get within two counties of her.

  Damn it! Why did I mix her up in this shit? Jarrid tracked and captured marks before without trouble. Now a lone woman made him careless. He strode out of the bedroom and bounded down the stairs to the main lobby. He pulled up short when four towering bodies blocked his exit.

  Cain, Kas, Nesty, and Tanis dressed in all black. All wore an assault team worth of guns and daggers. Nesty tossed a grenade in the air, over and over. The only difference between their attire was the swathe of black leather binding Tanis’ shriveled wings to his back and the two swords resting against the angel’s hips.

  Jarrid’s eyebrows butted against his hairline. “You got a date?”

  “The RSVP didn’t say you’d go solo,” Tanis said, crossing his muscled arms against his chest.

  Jarrid
dipped his head. His mentor expected to stand with him, despite the useless wings that flooded Tanis with pain. “Maybe you should sit this one out.”

  “Make me.”

  Jarrid glanced at the rest of the team for support. The assholes left him hanging in the breeze. “What about the Directorate? At least one of them cut a deal with Beleth. We don’t know who or why, but we can’t stay in the dark.”

  Tanis scowled and remained quiet.

  “You can get answers we need,” Jarrid said. “If the mission goes bad, we have to know who up there is a traitor. You can get to people we can’t.”

  He rubbed at the tension creeping into his neck. Tanis had a right to go after Beleth, just like he had dibs on Saul’s worthless carcass. Still, he prayed his adopted father saw reason. Ionie was trapped, alone, and transforming into a hybrid. Could Beleth use her power against them? The last thing he wanted was the bastard’s Grace inside her, destroying her pure soul.

  “I don’t like this,” Tanis said, his shoulders shaking, his rage close to the surface. “I want Beleth’s head on a spike.”

  Jarrid sealed his lips. His father had to work this out alone.

  “Damn it,” Tanis said. “If someone is playing both sides I’m the only person who can dig deep enough to find out who.”

  He squeezed Tanis’ shoulder and stared into his mentor’s silver eyes. A lifetime passed between them. The angel nodded. The crisp gesture spoke volumes.

  Ionie meant more to Tanis than revenge. With a final nod, Jarrid walked away.

  Outside the Stronghold, the rest of the team split up. Cain rode with him while Nesty rode shotgun with Kas.

  The city rolled past in silence.

  That suited Jarrid.

  His thoughts belonged to the biracial beauty who’d stolen his heart.

  • • •

  Saul flexed his fingers while he waited for Beleth to arrive. The call to his ally went as expected — Saul giving assurances the woman wearing a path in her cell floor was the right one, and Beleth threatening to do this and that to him for eternity if he was wrong.

  The more he dealt with the Renegade, the more switching teams to the assassins tempted him.