“It’s me. Call me back ASAP. Uh, please.” The “please” would tip her brother off that she was in trouble. She hung up and resumed tapping on the table.
What if she skipped town and headed to the family cabin in the Upper Peninsula? March winter would soon succumb to spring. The place wouldn’t be half-bad with groceries, possibly a Rottweiler.
She peeked at the wall clock. “Crap, crap, crap.” Fumbling with her phone, she dialed Raina and fiddled with her straw. “Come on. Pick up. Please pick up.”
“Hey, I was just about to head over to your place,” her friend replied.
Movie night with her bestie was the weekly norm, but she wanted to kick herself for nearly forgetting. “That’s why I’m buzzing you. Can I get a rain check? Something came up.”
“Aw. I drove all the way to Sprocket’s to pick through his DVDs,” Raina griped. “What’s more important than Thor and Loki fisticuffs?”
A murderer on the loose and a bag full of stolen knickknacks, Katie was tempted to say, but her second line beeped before she could answer. “I’m helping Jon with work junk. I’ll make it up to you, ’k? Gotta go.”
“Totally cool. Tell big brother hi for me.”
“I will. Bye Raina.”
Her heart slammed in her chest as she thumbed the talk button, disconnecting her friend. “Hello?”
“I could get used to calling you at home,” Jon said. “No one-phone-call requirement.”
“I’m not at home.” Though his tone was light, he’d often received her calls from the holding area at a police precinct.
“What’s wrong, Tiny Terror?” Jon’s humorous tone grounded her.
Katie’s gaze darted around the moderately full diner, half expecting Ray’s killer to pop out of a dark corner. “Not on the phone. Can you come to Lafayette Coney Island?”
“Sure. I’m not far from there. See you in a few.”
She listened to the dial tone, then hung up.
“Damn.” Katie sighed and closed her eyes. She’d broken the promise she’d made to Jon the last time he’d bailed her out. No more stealing. No more trouble. Seeing his disappointment again was going to suck.
This situation was different, she reminded herself. Raina, Sprocket, and Frazzle were her family, too. She couldn’t let her friends suffer, or worse. And if the Black Fangs didn’t kill them outright for failing to pay, those vamps had nasty ways to make their victims an example to others.
Tonight, Katie had seen the kind of evil that could be committed.
“I can’t go to jail, and I won’t leave my friends to those thugs.”
The jingle of a bell drew her attention. Jon Logan’s six-foot body crossed the entrance, and then he made his way through the diner to her booth. She relaxed into the soft faux leather.
“Hey, Terror.” Strong arms settled around her shoulders in a half hug. “Did I miss the Coneys?”
“I didn’t order any.” Katie shook her head and gave him a weak smile. Her brother had come straight from the station. His wrinkled, navy-blue uniform shirt had a mustard stain on it. As he gestured for a waiter, she frowned at the dark circles under his eyes. At only thirty-four, Jon’s premature gray hairs curled through his light brown hair.
“You ever sleep?”
He shot her a boyish grin that had softened many hearts over the years. Jon turned his attention to the waiter, ordered three Coneys with everything, and Vernor’s Ginger Ale. Down-home Detroit food. “I didn’t drive like I was on a call so you could act like Mom,” he said. “You’re the one sitting in Lafayette’s without eating. Better tell me why I’m here, kiddo, or I’ll start worrying.”
“I saw a guy murdered.”
Jon’s body stiffened, but he reached across the table and cupped her hands. Worry lines etched across his forehead. “What the hell? Are you okay? What happened?”
The waiter returned with the meal. When he’d gone, Jon captured her fingers in his and stared into her eyes as she blurted everything she’d witnessed. “Wait. Slow down. Did they see you?”
“No. I was hiding.”
“Thank God.” He pushed the plates aside. “If you saw the killer, you can describe him to the cops. They have sketch artists who’ll work up an image.”
Ice fused to Katie’s spine as a continuous loop of the murder played inside her mind, complete with a horror-movie soundtrack. She was back in the closet, watching the blood spray, hearing Ray’s screams.
“Katie? Sis?” Jon squeezed her hand. “I’m here, okay? Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I’m not leaving you.”
She barely heard him. Even if she could go to the police, the killer would know someone saw him. He’d find out about her. And if Jon tried to protect her…
That evil bastard didn’t look like the kind of guy who’d squirm over killing others to get to an eyewitness. He’d track her down, and even if she disappeared, it would put her family in danger. He’d never stop until he had her. Until she was dead.
“Sorry, sis. I know this is heavy shit, but you didn’t say why you were at Councilman Washington’s place. How do you know him?”
Katie pulled her lip between her teeth. “He, uh, wanted to talk about booking the band. I’d arrived early…and let myself in.”
“No. No way. You didn’t. Please tell me you weren’t there for that.”
The long silence that followed burrowed under her skin. Every reply she conjured withered on her tongue until all she could do was lower her gaze to her glass.
“Goddammit, Katherine! What the hell is wrong with you?”
A couple across the room turned at the outburst. Katie slumped in the booth. Her brother rarely swore at her, but on those rare occasions, all their shared Irish ancestry boiled over, leaving him red-faced. What could she say?
“I’m sorry.” She raised her chin and held his gaze. He had a right to be pissed. “I am.”
Minutes ticked by, but neither of them spoke. Finally, Jon expelled an anguished breath, and lowered his head.
“Tell me exactly how Washington died?”
“He didn’t touch Ray.” Katie’s eyes blurred, but the vivid scene haunted her. “He told Ray what to do like he had mind-control powers or something.”
“You have to go to the police,” Jon said. “A city leader was murdered, and no matter how strange the circumstances, the killer doesn’t get to just walk away.”
“I can’t.” Her throat tightened. “You know how cops are. They’ll do whatever they want to catch him. They won’t give a damn about protecting me.” Unless the police didn’t know she was involved. “Maybe I could leave an anonymous tip. Don’t the cops have a hotline? I could say everything over the phone.”
Jon sighed. His face creased with worry lines. “The victim was on the Council for Supernatural Affairs. That’s high profile. No way you’d remain anonymous long.”
Katie’s hope slithered away, leaving her empty.
Her brother dragged his fingers through his short hair. “If the killer was able to do that with his mind…he might be able to do worse.” Their gazes locked. “Police might be the least of your problems.”
“Going to the cops can’t be my only option.”
“Maybe they’re not.” Jon rubbed his chin. “You heard Ray refer to Renegades. If the killer is a fallen angel, or works with them, there’s one group who might help us.” She noticed he’d switched to a cautious tone. “They’re not cops, but still a kind of law enforcement. They’d protect you. I’ll contact the head guy and clue him in on the situation.”
Katie’s eyebrows stretched to her hairline. “What makes them better than regular cops?”
“I’ve never personally worked with them, but they have a solid rep. The killer’s Other, and these guys aren’t human either. Just tell them what you saw.”
“You want me to trust a bunch of strangers? They’ll turn me in.”
“No, they won’t. I’ll explain that they need to keep your identity secret. That’ll protect you from the maniac
and keep you out of a police investigation for now.” Jon cut off her protest with a wave of his hand. “Look, if anyone can find a killer with supernatural powers, these guys can.”
Should she trust these strangers? She’d tell some not-quite cops her story, see if they knew about the killer, or had what it took to stop him, and if that didn’t work, then she could figure out how to get herself and her friends out of town. No matter what happened, she wasn’t leaving Raina, Sprocket, and Frazzle to deal with the Black Fangs.
“Okay. Set it up,” Katie said. “Who am I gonna meet?”
“The Bound Ones. They’re a team of Nephilim.”
Chapter Two
A breeze stirred the dead leaves littering the flat ground in Palmer Park, but Cain tuned out the natural sounds and the nearby street traffic. He focused his senses and stretched his awareness as far as possible across the wooded property. Animal scents, human scents, and Other scents mingled in the air, but most were faint. Overhead, the cloudless night sky provided a blank canopy for the stars and the streetlights along the road. He crouched, skimmed his fingers across the uneven soil, and then tightened his grip on his impatience.
Where the hell were they? Cain suspected his vampire snitch had screwed up the information, which meant this evening would end boring, not bloody. Boring had been his unwanted companion these last six months and he was more than ready to get rid of it. Gratien’s info was usually solid, so when the vamp sold him a tip about a major crack deal on schedule for tonight, he’d grabbed it. So far, not a damn thing had happened.
Two short bursts of static sounded in his ear. He swore low and tapped on the connection.
“Report,” Tanis said, a hint of irritation in the leader of the Bound Ones’ tone.
“Been here three hours. Nothing yet.”
Cain listened to the silence in his earpiece but kept his attention on the area. He ground his teeth as he waited for the angel’s reply. Either the drug deal had been called off, or it was never on, which meant their informant had given them bad information. Gratien had better pray for the latter because Cain planned to crater his face for wasting his time.
“One more hour.” The connection clicked.
Damn it. The near-debilitating boredom seeped into his body, bunching the muscles in his back. The economy wasn’t the only thing that had slowed the hell down. The Bound Ones, the fiercest group of Nephilim mofos ever to brandish weapons, had mostly sat on their collective ass for months waiting for Heaven’s green light to begin nailing criminals again. How exactly did the Directorate, their so-called superiors, expect them to uphold their ever-changing laws if the team didn’t have shit to do? It wasn’t like the world had suddenly turned perfect.
A sleek, blue Jaguar crawled through the parking lot, headlights off. His eyes narrowed as the car stopped in a shadowy nook. Cain hunched deeper as adrenaline flooded his system. He slid his fingers to his gun holster and flipped the snap.
After a few minutes a Chrysler 300 approached from the opposite end of the parking lot and maneuvered until it stopped, back bumper to back bumper.
Hidden by the trees and bushes, he watched as the driver of the Jag opened the door, glided to the passenger’s, and reached a grayish hand to the handle. The driver glanced around the darkness, his red eyes seeking intruders, before he opened the door.
Cain eyed the shapely calves and the carved thigh muscle until the woman fully exited the car. Her minidress sparkled like the stars had fallen onto the green fabric as she smoothed her palm against the material, then flipped her braided hair over one exposed shoulder. He clenched his jaw at the rich brown shade of her skin. The bloodsucker had recently fed, and fed well.
He switched his attention to the Chrysler’s passenger, who had exited his car and approached the female vamp. The man, also a vampire, was shorter than the woman in her fuck-me-hard heels, but he was dressed for a night of entertainment in a tailored suit and gangster bling.
The male’s predatory gaze swept over the woman. “Tenisha, you look hot enough to eat.”
“Don’t I always, Wayne?” she asked, batting her lashes.
“Maybe I need reminding.”
The pair embraced and kissed like reunited lovers, moaning and grabbing.
For fuck’s sake. If the bloodsuckers didn’t get to the drug deal soon, Cain would shoot himself. He tapped the handle of his gun and studied his targets. The two drivers were burly thugs, each jacketless to show off the handguns strapped to their ribs. The woman appeared unarmed but likely kept a blade within reach, while the bulge at Casanova’s back confirmed he definitely packed heat.
“Did you bring it?” Tenisha asked with her fingers tangled in her partner’s black hair.
“In the car.” Wayne snapped his fingers and his driver returned to his vehicle.
Thank the God of All. Cain twitched with the need to spring into action. His impatience dissolved, replaced by instinct. The Bound Ones doled out justice. Heaven trained them to hunt and assassinate enemy angels, the Renegades, but the team’s directive had broadened over the centuries to include criminals of any species.
The driver handed a manila envelope to his boss, who passed it to Tenisha. She clapped her hands with childlike enthusiasm, then opened the envelope, a smile radiating from her face.
Cain furrowed his brow when he saw the papers and passport. What the hell was going on?
“Where’s yours?” Tenisha asked.
“I’ll join you at the villa after I scrub our tracks,” Wayne said. “Go to the airport tonight, and I’ll be there in two days.”
“And the money?”
Wayne smirked and cupped the woman’s face. “The deal was easy. After I sold the crack yesterday, I gave the Fangs their cut, minus a few hundred thousand. Those dumb fucks won’t realize the payoff was light until we’re drinking spicy South American blood.”
The drug deal happened yesterday? Gratien’s information had come too late. When he found that idiot… Cain’s half-angel soul, his Grace, shoved, demanding release.
But taking out Wayne and his lover after the fact wouldn’t go over well with Tanis. The angel didn’t believe in outright slaughter of bad guys unless they were caught in medias res.
Cain glared at the spot his bullet could take to blow both their heads off. He opened and closed his hand, tempted. So very tempted.
The two car engines rumbled to life, and the vampires disappeared into the vehicles. As a night bird sang, he stared at the license plates until they turned onto the road. He tapped his earpiece.
“Find us a new informant,” he told Tanis. “I’m going to skin Gratien and wear his undead hide as a dagger sheath.”
…
The drive home to Belle Isle passed in a haze. Cain rolled his SUV over the single road bridge leading from Jefferson Avenue to the private island where the Stronghold stood, a circa 1915 assembly complex of three interconnecting buildings. After pulling into the garage that once housed semitrucks, he entered the main building. Exposed brick and steel support beams ran throughout the imposing six hundred fifty thousand square foot space. He walked under the wire cages protecting the bald lightbulbs in the ceiling and took the stairs to Tanis’s study three at a time.
His brothers Kasdeja and Nestaron were seated when he burst into the room.
“Yep, he’s pissed,” Kas said. The team’s technology expert hadn’t glanced up from the computer guts on his lap.
Cain met Nesty’s calm gaze, but the other Nephilim didn’t say a word. He rarely did.
“What happened?” Tanis leaned against his desk, arms folded. Withered wings, burned and twisted on the angel’s back, spasmed.
Cain hated those things, but he didn’t lower his eyes. The angel was like a father to him, but the former warrior had never described how it felt to have those useless appendages move; they had to hurt like hell. Seeing the wings dampened his anger a fraction.
“I wasted close to four damn hours watching two bloodsuckers suck face and plan
a vacation. Pure bullshit.”
Nesty stood, walked over to the minibar near a leaded-glass window, and filled a shot glass to the rim. Then he quietly crossed the room to Cain. Without a word, his brother extended his offering.
“I’m still killing Gratien,” Cain said, accepting the drink. The oak-and-molasses aroma trailed into his nose, but he placed the rum on an end table.
Tanis’s silver eyes narrowed. “No. The information was correct. Only the timing was off.”
Cain leveled a hard stare at his boss. “Months of downtime is killing me. Renegades are in our city. Instead of kicking ass, we’re digging for scraps.”
Tanis shook his head. “We follow orders, son. The Directorate has not issued any, so we make do.”
When assassin business was slow, his father’s connections within Detroit’s public service departments offered a few side jobs with some paranormal flavor.
“This is bullshit,” he said on a near growl.
He picked up the rum and tossed the brown liquor down his throat, welcoming the liquid fire as it traveled to his gut, but it didn’t burn his thoughts away. He and his half-breed brothers had lost the freedom to choose how their lives played out the moment Tanis saved them as children and adopted them as his own.
I’m going to lose my goddamned mind.
“I need a real assignment.”
“We all do,” Kas muttered from the couch. “I’ve retrofit every car and truck in the garage with new security, designed new biometric wiring for the earpieces, reprogrammed the surveillance computers nine times this month alone, and transferred all files to the cloud server.” He motioned to the wires and motherboard on his lap. “I’m hacking an Xbox for shits and giggles.”
Nesty cleared his throat and whispered, “Had to release my Grace today, I was so frustrated.”
Instant sympathy for the quiet Nephilim drowned Cain’s anger. When any of them tapped too much Grace, the internal source of their supernatural powers, Heaven punished the user with the Act of Contrition. White-hot pain would flash fry his veins and make him wish for death. The Directorate didn’t trust their own half-breeds to have access to their full power. Nesty must have been desperate.
Angel Kin Page 2