Deliver Me from Chaos

by Tes Hilaire

  “Who is Mia?” he asked.

  She body tightened like a predator preparing to leap before she forced herself back into her fake state of calmness. She remained quiet for a moment—buying time, calculating the risks against the odds. He knew that whoever Mia was, his Beauty was going to try and use her to play on his sympathies somehow. His job was going to be to see through that to whether this Mia was important enough to his witness to use her as insurance for cooperation.

  If his worst fears were realized, he’d need a plausible reason for his DNA being in that alley—and more importantly, all over the victims. He still hadn’t figured out what the fuck that plausible reason might be, but he knew that he was going to need this woman to help eliminate the reasonable doubt from his explanation. Maybe he’d stumbled upon the fight? A gang conflict gone wrong and this woman the victim he’d waded in to rescue?

  Yeah, and that would explain the dismembered limbs. Christ.

  “Mia’s my daughter.”

  Except, shit, he hadn’t been expecting that. He dragged his gaze over her, frowning at the tight waist that could not have ever possibly stretched enough to contain even the world’s smallest baby, though maybe that’s why she wore the corset. “And she’s missing?”

  She nodded, her throat working to swallow the tears he could see pooling against her bottom lids. Aw shit. Here it came. The sympathy play. Only, crap, those looked like real tears. The haunting in her eyes true fear.

  “Did she get lost or run off or…” he trailed off as she shook her head.

  “No. Mia knows better than that. She knows there are those who’d take her from me if they could.”

  “Those? As in more than one person?”

  “Only one, specifically, who cares about her, and those who would follow his orders to take her.”

  He watched her eyes dim, the hurt pulling down on her features as the reality of her words hit home in an already open wound. Not if they could, for they had. Someone had already taken her daughter from her.

  He ran his hands through his hair. This was not what he’d bargained for. He had his own problems, one of which was sitting right in front of him.

  “So you know who took her?” he found himself asking anyway.

  “Her father.”

  He swore, his sympathy evaporating in a heartbeat. He hated cases like this. Why couldn’t people act like the adults they supposedly were and work this sort of crap out? Didn’t they realize the damage they were doing to their children by waging war, the child being the prize? In his mind there was only one reason to withhold the right for a parent to visit their child; and that was when the child’s, or the mother’s, safety was in question. He didn’t think that was the case here. As a cop who’d seen the results of true abuse, he knew most if not all the telltale signs. And this woman, though frustrated, angry, and anxious about her missing daughter, hadn’t been one bit cowed by him. Nope, she’d stood up to him, a man she’d found in a pool of blood and body-parts, with not one iota of fear in her eyes. Even after she’d tried to shot him.

  Yeah, but doesn’t that make you wonder what other horrors she’s seen if she can not blink at the sight of that?

  “Will he hurt her?” he asked.

  She hesitated, but shook her head. “It’s more the question of the sort of environment he plans to raise her in.”

  He arched a brow. “Worse than where you were living?”

  “Trust me, that hole in the wall is worlds above where she is now.”

  He blew out a breath. Whether he believed her assessment of the father’s competence or not didn’t matter. The fact remained that her daughter was missing and her focus was going to be solely on getting away from him and finding her. Unless, of course, he promised to help. An exchange of sorts. His help finding her daughter for her help out of this mess.

  “So you have an idea where he’s taken her?”

  She turned, her gaze leveling steadily on his. “I know exactly where he’s taken her.”

  “Okay…so where is she?”

  “In hell.”

  ***

  Mia pulled her legs under the bed, curling them tight into her stomach. It wasn’t really a great hiding place, but it was the only one in the small room that the bad man had locked her into.

  Her fist clenched in the folds of her robe, seeking comfort from the fuzzy fabric, only the fabric wasn’t soft anymore. Not like it was right after mommy pulled it out of the dryer at the Laundromat. The thought of her mommy made her throat tighten, like there was that frog in it that old Mrs. Henley was always complaining about. Only Mia didn’t feel like coughing, just crying.

  She bit her lip, jutting her chin out. Only babies cried, that’s what Ms. Henley’s grandson Sebastian said. And at seven and a half, over two whole years older than Mia, Sebastian should know.

  Sebastian would also probably know what to do if he was in her shoes. His dad was their landlord and “one mean bastard” so Sebastian always had tons of strategies for dealing with “his old man.”

  Mia didn’t like the man claiming to be her dad either. And her refusal to call him her daddy obviously made him mad. She could tell by the white lines that etched around his nose and mouth. The way his eyes hardened into black marbles. Not that she cared. If he was her dad, he wouldn’t hurt her, and if he wasn’t? She swallowed, hot salty tears.

  She wanted her mommy.

  Chapter Three

  Kat wrapped her arms around her body, trying to hold back the racking sob that tried to take over her control. The tears were real, as was her desperation. Every minute that ticked by was another minute that Mia was in her father’s hands. And though she didn’t think Ganelon, dark bastard though he was, would physically harm a child as young as Mia, she also knew that he would have no interest in comforting her either.

  What must Mia be thinking? Had Ganelon told their daughter about the most desperate bargain Kat had made five years ago? Did Mia believe her mother would ever follow through on it? Did her daughter wonder if Kat was even coming for her?

  His favor if she lay with him and bore him a child. For five blissful months she’d managed to walk the halls of hell without fear, knowing if any of the others decided to “teach her a lesson” and “put the half-breed in her place” that they would feel the wrath of Ganelon. After the years of pain and humiliation she’d endured, it had seemed like a good, albeit imperfect, bargain.

  And then came the day when Mia moved for the first time within her. That quickening had changed everything.

  The desperation she’d felt that had her responding yes to Ganelon’s proposal was nothing compared to the sense of despair that had overtaken her with the realization that she had a life growing within her. And she’d traded that life away.

  She’d traded her baby’s life for her own. And though the nineteen year old girl, half dead and more out of her mind than not, had not had the wherewithal or foresight to see past all the pain and humiliation she’d suffered for the last ten years when she’d struck the deal, that is what it had amounted to.

  Past sins. Her sins. Not Mia’s. She would get Mia out of there, no matter the cost.

  A throat cleared above her. Kat took a steadying breath, gazing up at her captor from under wet lashes. He was frowning, his brow pinched into a deep V. His ice-blue eyes wary and piercing, as if he was trying to see past her surface and measure the truth of her words. Blue eyes, not brown. Those had been contacts which he’d shucked along with his clothes back in her bathroom. Frankly she’d found the brown eyes less intimidating.

  “I think I’m going to need some more details,” he said slowly.

  Details? As if he, a Paladin, would ever help her if he knew the blood that flowed through her daughter’s veins. Not only was Mia a quarter succubus, but Ganelon was the Paladins’ foresworn enemy. Once a Paladin himself, he’d turned to darkness, betraying his brethren and signing on to be the general of Lucifer’s evil hordes. And Kat had made a bargain with the devil’s right hand
man. Her daughter would pay for that mistake unless Kat was very, very careful that she never let that bit of information slip to this man.

  She took a shaky breath. Laid her head on her curled up legs. “Why? Are you planning on letting me go? Or better yet, are you going to drop everything to help me get her back?”

  He let loose another string of curses and resumed his pacing. She could all but taste his guilt and had to fight the shudder of pleasure that wanted to pulse through her body with the influx of power. Now was not the time to get high off his emotions. She needed to stay focused, to remember her purpose for doing this.

  Think of Mia, afraid and alone in some little corner room in the upper reaches of Hell.

  And, okay, that did it. The hot tears started running in earnest. A sob erupted from her throat.

  “Ah, crap. Stop doing that, would you? I’m trying to think here.”

  “About what?” She jerked her chin up. “How to dispose of my body?”

  “Oh Christ.” He threw up his hands. “I’m not going to kill you, okay? I’m just trying to figure out how to fix this.”

  Fix this? There was no fixing this. Not unless he had a time machine and could send her back two nights ago to before she’d gone out on the stage. She’d listen to Mia and her “funny feeling in my tummy” this time and not hand her over to the other girls in the club to watch during her set. And somehow the next best thing—fixing the fact that this man had screwed up her chances at finding a way in to Ganelon’s lair—wasn’t any more achievable than manipulating the time continuum.

  She took a deep breath, sucking back down the overwhelming sense of hopelessness. She would rescue Mia. All she had to do was remain focused. She’d woken with a clearer brain than she’d given over to her exhaustion with and realized that her goal to get away at any cost had been short sighted. Here, before her, stood the man who might mean the difference between successfully freeing Mia and failure. But only if she could convince him to help her.

  She didn’t hold out much hope. He was a Paladin. She a succubus. His kind killed hers without hesitation. Only he had hesitated, and was still doing so, which told her his beast must have more control over his actions than he probably wanted to let on.

  The beast that rode his soul was a creature of legend, neither good nor evil. It was a creature of instinct, impulse, and desires and his obviously found her intriguing enough to overcome the Paladin’s lethal modus operando. If she could keep his beast reacting instead of thinking with the cold, hard logic of a Paladin’s brain, maybe, just maybe, she could win him over.

  “I really won’t say anything, you know,” she said, putting just a little bit of persuasive power behind her voice.

  He grunted, running his hand across the back of his neck. “Frankly, I’m not so much worried about you, as the DNA.”

  She frowned, thrown off stride. “DNA? But how would that lead them to you? I mean. How would they even know to look at you if I don’t say anything?”

  He sighed, dropping his hand to his side. “I worked a stint in homicide before returning to narcotics. They have my DNA for elimination purposes. And though they might not check, the fact there are drugs present on the scene, and they knew I was working that area of town…” he shrugged.

  “You’re a cop?” she exclaimed, her jaw dropping.

  He folded his arms, scowling.

  She closed her mouth, clearing her throat. “I’m sorry it just seems…”

  “Unbelievable? Messed up?”

  “No. Just risky.” Paladin did not have normal DNA, especially a Paladin who obviously had the blood of the beast-ridden somewhere in his ancestry. Granted his genes might be close enough that coarse inspection probably wouldn’t show anything. Of greater concern was the fact that Paladin didn’t age the same as regular humans. It would be hard to explain why all your partners were going gray and complaining of aches and pains when you were in the peak of health and hadn’t seemed to age a day. Even assuming he did transfer around a lot. And sure, Ganelon had placed some of his own minions into the ranks of NYPD’s finest, but it was always a short-time position. One that normally ended in their being recalled—the hard way.

  He frowned at her, one broad hand creeping back up towards his neck before he stopped himself and sighed, planting his hands on his hips. “I don’t normally do this, you know.”

  “Do what? Pick up women, bring them home, and liquor them up?” She smiled, trying to lighten the mood. She was letting herself get distracted from her plan. And each moment wasted was another moment Mia was in the hands of a monster.

  “Well, when you put it that way...” his smile faded, his eyes haunted as he met her gaze. “I truly am sorry you got caught up in this mess, beauty.”

  “Katrina. My name is Katrina. Though most people call me Kat.”

  He rocked back on his heels as if shocked she would offer up the information, but recovered quickly, crossing the rug to offer his hand. She took it, somewhat surprised at the punch of electricity that rolled over her skin at the contact, sending her senses reeling. It seemed, for a moment, as if the world around them slid sideways, and she found herself latching onto his gaze to balance herself.

  “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Katrina. I’m Mike,” he said solemnly, his grip firm and steady on her hand.

  “Mike…” she drew his name out, letting it slide over her tongue in a husky whisper, both testing his reaction and buying herself time to recover. He sucked in a breath, his pulse thudding beneath the tips of her fingers that touched the inside of his wrists. Her own did a little double-time jig in answer. He responded. She wasn’t sure a Paladin would be susceptible to a succubus’s gifts but he—or at least his beast—appeared to be.

  Thank Lilith. She didn’t know what she would’ve done if he wasn’t.

  “Mike?” She looked up at him through her wet lashes. “I’m scared.” Not hard to fake. She was scared, practically terrified out of her mind.

  He squeezed her hand as he settled on the couch by her. “I told you, I won’t harm you.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not me I’m scared for.” Though even as she said it she knew she lied. This moment had taken on an importance beyond necessity. Though what that subtext might be was smothered beneath a crazy mix of anxiety, anticipation, and fatigue.

  “You said he wouldn’t hurt Mia, right?”

  “Not physically. At least I don’t think…” her throat constricted, squeezing down to the point that it was difficult to take air into her lungs. He wouldn’t. She was sure he wouldn’t. He’d try to win Mia over first. Turn her against her own mother. Isolate Mia so that she’d have to look to him. Which was both good and bad. Bad for the obvious reasons, but good because it meant none of the other hell spawn down there could touch her.

  Memories surfaced; Kat’s own father, his face stony as he collected his half-breed child from the frazzled social worker. Naïve child she’d been at the time, she’d actually believed he’d wanted her. It wasn’t until after he’d passed her into the care of an aging and bitter succubus that she’d learned the truth. That he wasn’t some knight in shining armor come to save her from an overloaded and indifferent foster system, but a spawn of hell under his master’s order to collect her and bring her in for…training.

  Mike squeezed her hand, his presence drawing her out of the spiral she’d been sliding back down. She didn’t even think, just curled into his body, seeking the first authentic safe harbor offered since she couldn’t even remember when.

  He stiffened, but almost immediately eased, his calloused hands coming up to rub her shoulders. “I’m sure Mia is fine.”

  “I don’t want to think of Mia. Not when I can’t reach her.” And she didn’t. Thinking about where Mia was and all that could go wrong there would lock her in panic. She needed to not overthink, she needed to act, and thankfully the only course of action left to her would also provide her with exactly what she needed. Power. Power over the Paladin. Not to mention power fo
r her drained body. The fact that she found his touch oddly comforting was just an added bonus.

  That’s not it. More than that. Liar. Liar. Liar.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge the little voice that whispered in the back of her mind. Okay, yeah, her reaction was more intense than she’d predicted. He was hardly doing more than rubbing small circles across her back and she was shuddering in anticipation. But that was easily explained. Five years was an eternity for a succubus to go without sex, even if she’d sworn when she’d made her bargain with Ganelon it would be so that she’d never have to subject herself to the act again.

  I’m doing this for Mia, not me.

  But damn if his touch didn’t feel surprisingly good.

  “Mike?” she lifted her gaze, nibbling on her bottom lip.

  His gaze snagged on her mouth, his chest rising and falling before he managed to will his eyes up to meet hers. “Yes?”

  “I want… I mean, would you…” she shook her head, burying it in his chest. “It’s stupid.” And it was. What she was doing was stupid. Destined to fail. Yet at the same time it had already moved beyond necessity, spiraled past need, and now rode the razor thin edge of a yearning for something that if found would doubtlessly lead to nothing but more pain.

  He put his hand under her chin, easing her gaze back to his. “What is it, Kat? What do you want?”

  She licked her lips, not having to fake how her breath caught in her throat for a moment before answering. “I want you to kiss me.”

  ***

  Kiss me. The words, command more than plea, had Mike leaning down. He claimed Kat’s lips before he could even think about the colossal mistake he was making. But by then it was too late, because once he’d touched that little bit of heaven there was no going back.