The stranger wore a suit like every other man in her office complex, typical dark gray with a crisp white shirt, black shoes, the usual, but something about him put her senses on high alert as he passed her office door without a glance and entered the main suite, very likely to speak with her boss about something completely unrelated to her. He would speak to the man about something seemingly inconsequential, the same mode of operation all of the other assassins sent to collect on their contract used. By now, Anitra knew the drill all too well. Though grateful to her benefactor, she would have easily identified the man as a threat even in the absence of the warning text.
Soon as she insured her movement would not be noticed, she stood and picked up her purse the same way she always did to go to the ladies’ room, grateful once again that she had cultivated the habit of never leaving her purse in one room when she moved to another. At least, the restroom was where she wanted her coworkers to assume she was going. She closed the office door behind her and dashed out of the back door, grateful she had managed to find a parking space close behind the office building this morning.
Returning to her tiny one-bedroom apartment now was out of the question, so she would not even be able to pack. If they knew where she worked, certainly they knew where she lived. She wondered if they knew about Rumor. Resigned to grab him from day care and run straight to the airport, no looking back, she exhaled and shook it off. It’s not as if anything in the hotel room meant anything to me anyway. Unable to avoid the unwanted flashback, she acknowledged that everything and everyone of value to her had been lost 14 years ago. Everything except Rumor.
Just as she hopped into her fifteen-year old gray Corolla, the only major purchase she had made in several years, with cash, used, of course, Anitra heard the familiar chime of another incoming text message and read it before pulling out of the parking lot. Despite the need for speed, she made as little noise as possible, no skidding tires or roaring engine for her. She patted the dashboard, thanking Toyota for the quiet engine and thanking Ms. Lillian for her timely response, then glanced through the rearview and spotted gray suit running out of the exit, revolver drawn.
Instead of firing at her, he looked off to the right, waved his arm, and she realized there were at least two more in a car, all after her. She hauled ass, headed for the interstate, then prayed she could make the short trip. The little needle registered just above the big red “E” because her money had been low on her way to punch the clock this morning. It was payday, and she planned to stop for gas after work.
She took another look through the rearview mirror, relieved when she no longer saw them behind her despite nearly reaching the location Ms. Lillian directed her to in the text message. She swerved, parking her car on a side street, then ran into the store where her text message instructed her to wait and straight through the back exit to stay out of sight and hopefully throw them off. She noticed a few side glances, but this was Vegas - not the easiest population to alarm, and everybody had secrets of their own to protect. Someone was always running from someone else in this place.
Anitra shoved at the back door of the warehouse behind the store with both hands, feet still moving as she turned to sprint down the alley when the door would not budge. The sun shone brightly overhead, allowing her to see clearly, but there was no help in sight. Despite her self-defense training, she knew her odds were not good against these numbers, so she turned her head from left to right as she ran, looking for another way inside. At this rate, she would not live long enough to take Ms. Lillian up on her generous offer to get out of the city.
She pushed another door, considering a return to the store where at least she would be in a populated area, but ducked just in time to avoid the bullet aimed at her head, unwilling to place the lives of others in danger. Not one more death because of me. Not as long as I can help it.
Staying close to the building like a cornered animal, she dashed in the other direction, reliving events of the last few days as random thoughts flashed before her, taking her mind off certain death, her body in continuous motion – moved…again, finally got another job…again, put half down on the car to get back-and-forth, then received text message from the infamous Ms. Lillian with an exclamation point…How the hell did they find me? I’ve been so careful! Maybe Ms. Lillian’s message was a warning. The car dealership, maybe? I was afraid to even buy a car for months, dealers in the area are known for their shady connections…Wouldn’t you know the minute I break down and buy myself just one convenience…
Another bullet whizzed by her. This time she coughed, the smell of sulfur assaulting her nose and landing in her throat. Any other woman would scream for help, but experience was a damn good teacher, and experience said screaming would just make her assailant kill her faster. Her heart drummed in her ears, beats accelerating from allegro to presto in seconds as she chided herself for putting her life in the hands of someone she had never laid eyes on.
As Anitra propelled her body forward, her mind continued to race, immediate danger accompanied by a touch of paranoia. Anitra frantically searched for a hint of betrayal in her conversation with Ms. Lillian. She said if I could just get here, she’d have someone here to meet me, protect me. I can’t believe she’d set me up! No, I know she wouldn’t. They must have found out some other way. They have so many methods of…car dealership. Yeah, that must be how they found me…
Pounding footsteps behind her grew louder and closer, more than one pair, but so far, no more bullets whizzed by. Maybe the gunmen preferred beating her to death, killing her up close and personal. The streetlights ahead offered safety. Just a few more yards and she could disappear again. She was good at that.
When another large man suddenly stepped into the alley, she instinctively knew he must be the messenger Ms. Lillian sent her here to meet. Damn, that was fast! Plus, he looked like he could be her big brother. At the same time, she heard the footsteps accelerating behind her, closer and closer. Chills overtook her and her stomach sank at once, a lead weight as she closed her eyes and held her breath, relying on her instincts in true Anitra fashion. What if this was the one time her instincts were wrong? Damn! I didn’t even need to scream for the henchman’s reinforcements to show up. That’s why he didn’t shoot at me again – this one at the end of the alley is not my brother. My brother’s dead, anyway! He’s here to kill me too! Oh, God, I’m gonna die…
Caught in the middle, she turned, determined to muster up enough courage to face whatever came her way. At least she could see the bullets coming if she faced them, and she still had the knife…in her boot again…where reaching it in time was impossible. She could not stop the shocked squeal that escaped on a terrified breath when big brother grabbed her, pulled her into his body, then shoved her behind him, holding her in place with an iron grip.
Anitra’s superior instincts wavered before taking over again and she struggled to escape his hold. “No! Let me…!”
Her savior, big brother, assassin, whatever the hell he was, stood eerily still as if what she saw was not really happening – as if time had captured him, or her. Bullets started flying again, and she knew immediately that the man holding her meant no harm – at least not to her.
“What are you doing? If you came to save me, and I hope you did ‘cause you are down right creepy, I’d suggest you get on with it! Let’s get the hell out of here! Guns! Bullets! Kill you! And me! Hello?”
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, her struggling futile, and fear paralyzed her mind as her life flashed before her eyes, one thought displacing all others. I’m about to die! I’m about to die! I’m about to die! The loud crack and subsequent thud of the bullet hitting its target shattered her internal fight-or-flight response. She immediately frowned and stopped struggling, a glimmer of consciousness alerting her to the favorable change in her predicament.
Big brother grunted as if being hit by a bullet was a minor irritation, akin to a mosquito bite. His hold on her never loosened. Next, she heard
another even louder thunk! as someone apparently hit the brick wall, followed by retreating footsteps. She peeped around her savior to see her original assailant and his cohort, another man, hightail it the other way, yelling epithets, while a third man she remembered seeing in the assailants’ car, lay prone, possibly dead at big brother’s feet.
Anitra’s protector turned to face her, his wide mouth turned down, and sighed before asking. “Anitra LaShaé Washington?”
She stared at him, his deep, raspy voice rising from a cave to prick her ears, his tone flat and nonchalant. Several years ago, a protector showing up out of nowhere at just the right time would not have been surprising at all, but since the murder of her entire family, anyone who could or would have protected her had severed ties as quickly as possible. And he actually did kind of favor her brother - made her think of him, anyway.
Said brother look-alike grasped her elbow with one hand and rubbed his stomach with the other as he winced, ushering her onto the sidewalk. “You are Anitra, aren’t you?”
“Y-yes. W-why? Who?” Anitra shook her head to stop herself from asking stupid questions. Surely it did not matter who he was. He had just saved her life. “Are you okay?”
She glanced down to where he absently touched his stomach. “There’s a hole in your shirt, but no blood. How…?”
“No questions.” He held the car door open, gesturing for her to get in. She was so focused on him and her narrow escape from the attack, she had not even realized they were approaching a car.
He still had not told her who he was, but she followed his instructions. Her choices were limited – either go with him or stay on the street long enough to be attacked again, very likely killed. Anyway, if he had any intentions of hurting her, he certainly would not have just taken a bullet in her defense. And about that…why isn’t he bleeding?
Chapter Two
As soon as he slid into the driver seat, he turned to her with a smile. “Joe. Ms. Lillian sent me for you. I’m repaying a debt.”
“Ah.” I guess last names aren’t in order. Her heart rate slowed, approaching a normal pace now, and she relaxed her shoulders. “I kinda figured Ms. Lillian must have sent you, but why aren’t you…” Bleeding?
He pulled away from the curb and eased into traffic, tilting his head to the side as he smiled at her again, an indulgent expression warming his bright amber eyes. “I’m taking you to the airport. You’ll be safe from here, but it’s not safe to return to your place for your bags. Don’t ever tell anyone what happened tonight, understood? Ms. Lillian wants to make sure you make it to Florida safely.”
Anitra nodded. Joe’s voice sounded kind, warm, despite the fact that he had just very likely killed one of her assailants in the blink of an eye. Even if she knew what to say, apart from swallowing, her throat was not working well just yet. She had been dodging bullets and other weapons for what seemed like forever, but this was the closest she had come to the end of the Washington family line. As far as telling anyone, she was not even sure she could put it into words without sounding like she needed a strait jacket.
“Um, I do need to make one stop, though.”
He turned to her, a scowl making him look more ominous again. “For what?”
“I need to get my baby from day care.”
“Baby? Ms. Lillian didn’t say anything about a baby. Where’s the day care?”
Anitra gave him the location and they rode the remainder of the way in silence, the bright lights of Vegas flashing by, rivaling the daylight as they passed the street-side machines.
Anitra had tried leaving town before, every attempt met with danger and failure since Arardo’s men monitored every possible exit. Getting out of this town, a city that allowed no sleep, was a good thing, a necessity. She took a deep breath, praying to get as far from the only home she had ever known as possible. Absently, she wondered if growing up in a different environment would have made a difference, or whether a less dangerous line of work for her father could have allowed her more time with him, but ultimately, she closed the lid on her wishes and focused on the situation at hand.
Moments later, they arrived at the day care. Avoiding Joe’s glare, Anitra jumped out of the car and ran inside before he could say anything. She couldn’t help smiling to herself when she thought about the look on her big chauffeur’s face. Joe looked like he wanted to strangle her when he realized she’d led him to a doggie day care. He had obviously expected to take her to a day care for two-legged babies.
She slowed to a walk as she entered the building so as not to upset the other charges, Rumor’s barks of excitement telling her he knew she had arrived for him.
Anitra smiled, warmed by the amazing connection differentiating Rumor’s voice from those of every other pet at the day care. She stopped at the front window and checked him out, hard-pressed to still her feet and wait while the attendants gathered his things and brought him to her. Thank God, I couldn’t leave him at the hotel.
Soon as the attendant got close enough, Anitra started murmuring to Rumor, who stomped in his crate, eager to get to her.
Thanking the attendants, she held the crate close to her chest, Rumor’s overnight bag with food, treats, vitamins, plates, and personal comforts in her other hand, and dashed to the car, placing Rumor on the back seat before sliding into the front to face Joe again.
To her surprise, he said nothing as he pulled out of the parking lot and merged into traffic, his lips tilted into a hint of a smile. She offered him a sheepish grin and removed Rumor from his crate to cradle him in her lap.
The senior Pit-Bull mix had been just a puppy when her family was murdered, and he was the only living thing besides herself connected to them. He licked her face and snuggled against her, unaware of his fifty-pound weight, no questions or concerns about their destination, and she allowed his unwavering trust to bolster her lagging belief in her ability to survive.
Hunter glanced up to see Kushiel approaching. The punishing angel stepped out of the flames and fluffed his black wings, allowing them to drop by his side and recede into his back in one smooth, lithe motion. He brushed off his black designer suit and rolled his head from one side to the other before yawning. The bright white light surrounding the angel, no matter how menacing, illuminated the infinite darkness and forced Hunter to squint as the textured black onyx walls and dark earth floor came to light.
Hunter saw perfectly well in the darkness, but chose to avoid the reminder of his surroundings whenever possible. He had no way of keeping time, and no interest in it since immortality had a way of making the concept meaningless anyway, but after so many centuries he felt the advent of Beltane in his loins, and knew immediately why Kushiel was there.
It was time, and his heartbeat maintained its same steady rhythm. He stood completely motionless. Eons of shattered dreams faded from memory, every hope or expectation obliterated by years of torture and disappointment.
As an adult, Hunter’s height had increased by two-inches, but despite his six-foot-seven-inch height, Kushiel towered over him. One of the originals, a pure-blooded, first-generation angel, Kushiel stood over eight feet tall. Kushiel narrowed his fiery gaze and the heavy double chains around Hunter’s neck fell away, clattering to the ground in a snake-like coil. Hunter stretched, rolling his shoulders and massaging his neck. He enjoyed the moment, grateful for the instant relief he felt as soon as the weight was lifted.
He grimaced, Kushiel’s booming voice so close it rumbled in his ears like thunder. “Hunter. Take care of your agreement with Lillian first.”
Hunter bowed. “Yes, Warden.” Kushiel’s orders were always obeyed without question. The God-appointed angel of reprimand could emotionally and physically break even the hardest immortal, making him or her wish for immediate death. Kushiel had been nothing but fair to Hunter since his arrival, but he had seen enough and heard the screams and cries of other demons to know that he did not want to get on the angel’s bad side.
Kushiel nodded, his stoic wa
y of giving permission, and Hunter took off at a breakneck run for the surface - no time for a “thank you” or a “see ya when I see ya.” His relationship with Kushiel was like that. Kushiel knew Hunter would not disappoint, and Hunter knew he had better succeed or else. Three days, and part of that had to be spent climbing. Fuck. His powers were of no use here, ineffective until he reached the surface.
With the exception of Kushiel, everyone called the mysterious owner of “Heaven’s Touch” Ms. Lillian. Like Kushiel, she maintained the visage of an angel, her beauty unmarred by infinite years of existence, or so he’d been told. Hunter had never actually seen her, but from what he’d been told, those who had seen her true visage could be counted on one hand. Kushiel had lived even longer than Hunter, and he and Lillian had been friends before Hunter’s birth. Like him, Ms. Lillian did not live among humans, but enjoyed dabbling in their love lives for some reason. Now, she had taken an interest in him, promising to find ‘just the right woman to put things the way they were meant to be.’
Hunter could not help wondering why she took such an interest in him.
He grimaced, wishing he could at least use his claws to climb the daunting mountain before him. In their present state, his wings were unusable due to damage from Hell’s fire and soot, tattered and riddled with large holes, and teleportation was out of the question because his powers would be useless until he reached the surface. He was not sure what to make of Ms. Lillian’s claims, but whether she came through for him or not, he had a job to do, and that meant getting out of Hell in record time so he could be in the right place at the right time.
He climbed quickly but carefully, the suffocating scent of sulfur and decay causing him to labor for each breath. Falling thousands of miles was the last thing he needed. It would take him an entire day to wake up and heal from the injuries, leaving him even less time to complete his mission. Everything always came back to the curse, and he wondered why he still bothered year after year, century after century. He sighed, mumbling to himself in ancient Arabic. “Don’t think, dammit. Just climb the fuck out of here and get on with it.”
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