by Mary Abshire
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2017 Mary Abshire
ISBN: 978-1-77339-142-7
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Audrey Bobak
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SECOND DEMON
Heaven Sent, 2
Mary Abshire
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
With its siren blaring, the police car whizzed by Emily as she walked along the sidewalk. Unfazed, she continued with the bag of food in her one hand. Her other one she kept in the pocket of her jean jacket with a switchblade in her grasp. Two days ago, some young guy had tried to rob her when she’d been on her way back to her rented apartment. He’d managed to get her into an alley, but after that she’d surprised him with two punches to his face and a knee to his groin. From that point forward, she’d decided to carry the knife with her in case he returned. She knew plenty of self-defense moves to ward off typical thieves and bullies, but if someone came at her with a weapon, she wanted to be prepared. New York City definitely seemed more dangerous than Chicago.
Approaching the pizzeria on the corner, the smell of the fresh bread baking drifted her way. Her stomach gurgled. The cold cut sandwiches in her bag wouldn’t taste as yummy as baked ziti or pizza, but she was determined to eat healthier.
She passed the restaurant and a closed business with blacked out windows before she reached the entrance leading to her apartment. She swung open the barred glass door and was hit with an awful piss odor. Homeless people often used the main floor as a restroom. Holding her breath, she dashed up the staircase two steps at a time. The run-down building was old and in need of updating, but the location was great since the subway was two blocks away. Better yet, the price fit into her budget since she had no idea how long they would stay in the city.
Muddled voices spilled into the hall as she reached the third floor. She walked by a door on her left and the chatter of a man and woman grew louder. The two argued as often as they had sex and since the walls were paper thin, she’d heard enough to write an erotic book. Who needs television when real life drama was next door? Emily continued past two other apartments on her right before she reached her studio at the end on the left. She paused and knocked.
Andrew opened the door. He raised his arm and leaned it against the edge of frame, near his head. His short dark locks had slight waves so she couldn’t tell if he’d combed it or not. He wore jeans and the same wrinkled white t-shirt he’d slept in overnight. The man had huge muscles—no, not just big, perfectly shaped and solid as if he’d been molded from clay. They were a joy to look at. And she did, as often as she could.
He raked his gaze down her. “Hello sexy. Do I know you?”
Her brows shot up. “Excuse me?” What games was he playing now?
“You are smokin’ hot. Did you bring me something good to eat?”
She lifted the white sack in her hand. “Sandwiches from the deli.” But he knew that. She’d told him where she was going before she’d left a half hour ago.
“I bet they don’t taste as good as you,” he said with a heated look in his eyes that could melt anything.
If she hadn’t known he was teasing, she would’ve liquefied. The man had a body to touch, lick, and do other naughty things to all day and night. He could’ve been a cover model for any men’s health magazine. His bluish-gray eyes magnified his stunning appeal. Add his charming personality, brains, and good manners, and he was the most desirable man on the planet. The tiny fact he’d died in 1989 and had been sent back from heaven to kill demons might detour most women, but not Emily.
She struggled to contain the laughter bubbling up inside her. Grinning, she stepped closer to him as if she were a cat stealthily approaching. He straightened and she stopped inches from him. “You’re right. I taste better.” She made sure to use her soft, seductive voice.
He brought his bottom lip up to meet the top one before he swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbled. The look on his face changed from playful to pure fascination. She could flirt and play just as well as he could.
She placed her palm on his chest. His heart pumped fast underneath her touch. She pushed him back gently. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
His gaze lowered to her lips. She moved closer to him. The longing in his eyes reminded her of the one time they’d almost kissed in Pittsburgh. Realizing she had him hooked, amusement burst free from her. She laughed as she walked past him into the studio. He lowered his head in defeat while he shut the door.
“Got ya,” she said as her laughter calmed.
He snatched the bag from her hand and headed to the two mesh lawn chairs near the kitchen. The pieces of furniture were a bit of an eyesore, but they had cup holders and could fold up and travel with ease. Best of all, they were cheap. She refused to purchase anything solid since they would move in the near future. She had no idea where they’d end up next, so her money was best spent on items they could take with them from town to town.
“The one with the letter ‘C’ on it is mine,” she said as she removed her jacket.
“Did you run into any trouble?”
“Nothing other than trying to understand the guy at the deli. I don’t know what country he was from, but his accent was thick.”
She set her jacket on the hardwood floor near her inflatable bed near the wall. It was a few feet away from the head of Andrew’s pumped-up mattress near the windows. The tiny apartment was about the size of her bedroom in her parents’ house in Chicago. There wasn’t much space, but the studio had a small stove, refrigerator, dishes, cookware, and a stacked washer and dryer. The bathroom was the only separate area with a door, not counting the closet.
Andrew dropped the bag on the blue lawn chair before he headed to the fridge. Emily sat in the red mesh seat since he always chose the blue one. He returned with bottles of water in each hand and extended one to her.
“Thanks.” She twisted the cap and it snapped. The cold water refreshed her as she swallowed it. The windows were open and a breeze blew inside, but she was still a bit warm from her walk and climbing the stairs. For a brief minute she considered changing out of her jeans and into shorts.
Andrew sat by her with the bag in his lap. The writing on his one forearm captured her attention. The tattoo looked as if it had been on his skin a long time. In reality, the ink had magically appeared on him a week ago.
“You’re staring again,” he said as he dug inside the bag. He withdrew a sandwich, checked the front, and then handed it to her.
She confirmed the letter ‘C’ had been written on the paper before she took the sandwich. “Thanks and sorry.”
She still had difficulty at times believing he was an angel sent from heaven to serve a punishment. She’d spent two weeks with him since she’d found him naked on the middle of a road in Indiana. He’d told her he was sentenced back to Earth because of his sexual promiscuities and he had to destroy six demons. The story sounded like some kinky horror novel, too fantastical. But when she’d witnessed him kill a man and then touch the dark essence that sprang from the dead body, she realized he hadn’t been lying. The black smoke had turned to ash from Andrew’s holy touch. He seemed like an everyday Joe except the name and address of the second demon inked on his forearm reminded her he was some
thing more.
He unwrapped his sandwich. “What time is Troy calling?”
“At three,” she said while she removed the paper from her food.
A touch of excitement sparked within her. She hadn’t spoken with her best friend, best brother, best comrade, and best girlfriend in five days. They’d grown up together since they were five. He’d helped her learn how to defend herself, to handle weapons, and to be self-sufficient. Although some of his business transactions involved criminal activity, she never minded helping him when he’d asked. He’d always protected and had come to her aid when she needed it. He’d always been more loyal than any blood-related member of her family.
“I hope he has some good information, because right now we’re at a dead end.” Andrew took a bite into his double ham and Swiss on rye. “Mm… Mm… So good,” he mumbled.
Emily sighed before she took a bite of her grilled California turkey. They’d spent a week in New York City stalking Michael Lazzari, the name of the demon inked on Andrew’s arm. Almost two days had been wasted finding an apartment to rent at an affordable price, but the rest of their time had been devoted to observing Mr. Lazzari. So far, they’d learned he was a lawyer and he had quite the clientele of rap musicians who shot people or had possessed drugs. Other clients included individuals tied to the mafia who were charged with murder and other felonies, businessmen caught with prostitutes, and other scumbags or whores who could afford him. Mr. Lazzari wore expensive suites, worked long hours at his office, had his grocery and dry cleaning delivered to his Manhattan condominium, and spent most of his nights at a club called Electric City, or EC for short. Mr. Lazzari would stay until the early morning hours sometimes, and then would leave with a friendly lady or two, the kind that dressed provocatively and didn’t mind being groped in public. That was the extent of their findings, which was why Emily had contacted her best buddy in the world to get the real dirt on Mr. Lazzari.
Emily chewed on another bite of her sandwich while she continued gazing outside. The loud horn from car woke up the neighborhood. Once it silenced, someone yelled profanity. Although New York City had tall buildings and busy streets like Chicago, the two were still very different. In the Windy City, most drivers waited for people to cross the streets. Yes, it caused traffic jams, but Chicago natives typically didn’t honk obsessively or try to run down pedestrians like New Yorkers.
“Do you miss your home in Chicago?” Andrew asked, jarring her back to the present.
“Huh?”
“Chicago, do you miss it?”
“Oh, no.” She set her lunch on the bag in her lap and then took hold of her water from the cup holder. “I miss seeing Troy, but that’s it.”
They’d been through a lot together in twenty years. How could she not miss seeing his cheerful face, hanging out with him, and watching him perform in drag at Queens? At least they kept in contact.
“What about your family?” he asked.
“Nope. I don’t miss them bitching at me non stop and telling me what a failure I am.” Leaving home had been one of the best things she’d ever done. Her parents had always frowned upon her and had acted as if she were the biggest disappointment. They’d wanted her to be like her younger sister, Erin, but Emily had her own way of doing things. When she didn’t do what her parents had wanted or failed to meet their high expectations, they’d degraded her. With the help of her friends, she’d been able to keep her chin high and persevere.
“Do you miss Libby?”
Emily finished swallowing some water. “I think about her sometimes. I miss how we would go out to parties, have a good time, and laugh.”
Emily had thought about her deceased best friend a lot. They’d grown up together since they were eight and had shared everything. But Libby had acquired a drug problem during her teenage years. She’d gone into rehab a few times to try to kick the habit, but once a junkie, always a junkie. The night before Emily had met Andrew, Libby had overdosed on crack from a party. The memory of Libby dying in her arms was one she’d never forget, that and leaving her body in a ditch. She hated what she’d done, but she’d done it to avoid being charged with Libby’s death and to save Libby’s parents additional grief since they knew so little about their daughter’s addiction. Within twenty-four hours of Libby’s death, Emily had dyed her hair, packed her bags, and then hit the road.
“We can do that,” he said in an upbeat tone. “We can go out and have a good time. We should go into that club and check it out.”
Without saying the name, she still knew he was referring to EC. She’d considered going in before so they could watch Mr. Lazzari. She always enjoyed dancing at clubs in Chicago. She doubted the ones in New York would be much different.
“Come on, you know you want to,” Andrew said, trying to cajole her.
She lifted her sandwich while her lips curled. The paper crinkled in her lap. “Okay, but we go to do some research too.”
“Absolutely. We can watch the guy, do some dancing, check on him again, and dance some more…” He took another big bite of his food.
“I think I have a black skirt in one of my bags. I need to dig it out.” She’d brought three bags of clothes with her, two if she didn’t count the one containing her shoes and toiletries. She’d left her computer case with her laptop, cash, and a gun hidden in her Jeep parked several blocks away. Although she disliked how far her car was, at least it was in a safe and secure garage with twenty-four hour security and cameras. The parking fee wasn’t cheap, but the odds of her belongings getting stolen from the garage were far less than if they were in the apartment.
Andrew finished his lunch. “I’ll wear my jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt to cover my arm.” He balled up the wrapper.
The familiar ringtone from her cell drew her attention to her jacket. She quickly handed the remains of her sandwich to Andrew and then darted for her phone. It was the cheap prepaid kind and only one person other than Andrew knew the number. Kneeling on the floor, she tugged the cell from the pocket. Trepidation rushed through her when she saw his digits on the screen. He’d asked her to call him at three. So, why was he calling her now?
“Hey Troy,” she said with the phone to her ear. “What’s up?”
“I know it’s early, but I have something to take care of this afternoon.”
Relief started to calm her nerves. “It’s fine. We were eating lunch.” She returned to her chair. “Let me put you on speaker.” She pressed the appropriate icon on the screen.
“Are you done with this?” Andrew asked while he held the last few bites of her sandwich in his palm.
“You can have it.” She moved her lawn chair closer to Andrew before she sat.
“Is that Andrew I hear?” Troy asked.
“Hi Troy,” Andrew mumbled with food in his mouth.
“How is life in New York?” Troy asked.
She lowered the volume on the cell so the neighbors wouldn’t hear him.
Andrew swallowed as he leaned toward the phone in her hand. “It’s nice here. I think you’d like it.”
“I’m sure I would. How’s our favorite girl?”
“She’s been a bit frisky lately, but otherwise fine. The bruise is finally gone.” Andrew lifted his gaze to her before he stuffed the last bit of her sandwich into his mouth.
Emily’s black eye had finally healed and so had Andrew’s. He’d taken a hit from trying to protect her at a small tavern in Ohio. She acquired her shiner from the demon who had tried to rape her. She’d given the man plenty of punches, but he still managed to force his way onto her. If Andrew hadn’t arrived in time… Thankfully, he had.
“I’m not sure what that first part means, but if it involves sex, I don’t want to hear about it,” Troy said.
“Trust me, we’re not having sex,” Emily said flatly. Not that she would’ve minded. He had one hell of a package. She’d seen it up close twice. Just thinking about his manhood warmed her in all the right places.
“Good,” Troy said
. “And before I forget, I mailed identification credentials for Andrew two days ago. You should see them soon.”
“Thank you, Troy,” Andrew said.
“Anything for Emily.”
“You’re the best,” she said.
“Don’t you forget it,” Troy said with a bit of flamboyancy in his tone.
In her mind, no one compared to him. Not only was the smartest, most loyal, and the most compassionate person she’d ever met, he had a unique skill set. She’d learned a lot from him as they grew up, but she could never get close to matching his level of expertise. He could get access to things she couldn’t and wouldn’t dare. And if by some crazy chance he couldn’t get what he needed, he knew someone who could help him.
“So what did you find out about our target?” she asked.
“As you know, he’s a lawyer. He passed the bar in 2002 and worked in a few small-time firms before he moved to his current employer. He’s been there about four years and makes a shit ton of money. He’s never been married. He doesn’t have any rugrats. His tax records are clean. His credit is good. He owns a Mercedes that he paid for and he is part owner of a spa, pizza shop, and a club called Electric City.”
Emily and Andrew locked gazes. She had no idea Mr. Lazzari was part owner of any establishments. The only one they’d seen him go into was the club. Now they knew why he frequented the place.
Troy continued. “His mortgage is fucking scary and that’s where most of his money goes. He has a clean record, no criminal filings and no complaints with the Bar Association. His parents and brother live in a house in Philly, where he was born. I could research them more—”
“Don’t bother,” Emily said. “Did you see any transactions on his statements for escort services?”
“I did not see any, but he does make large payments to his club. Since he is a lawyer, he could be doctoring the books,” Troy answered.