Hope For More (Trinity Book 3)

by Devin Fontaine

  Good luck to her. Donovan was focused on the raid. Freeing the female captives of the compound. If he had anything to say about it, anyway. The thought made Donovan think of True and how grateful she was to see him in the damp cellar where she was held captive. He shook off the memory and focused on Tony.

  “I’m not arguing, Tony. Just surprised you would want to be in on this. I figured you as the guy to storm in after and tie up the loose ends.”

  “Mayhap I’m not be as big as you, angel, but that doesn’t mean I can’t kick ass.” Tony scowled, his flashing eyes daring Donovan to argue.

  For the love of— I need a hostile saint like I need a three-legged Hellhound.

  “Fine.” He held up his hands. “I shan’t utter another word.”

  Donovan waited until Tony stomped out of sight before he rolled his eyes. The detective had nothing to prove, especially not to him of all immortals, as he’d seen Tony in battle long ago. All Donovan wanted was a shot at Abaddon. By the Fates, that soulless bastard would pay for fucking with him whilst he was undercover.

  He checked the time and sighed. A little over an hour and it felt like ants crawling under his skin. Desperate for a distraction, he dug out his phone and dialed. It only rang once.

  “Donovan.”

  His hand tightened on the phone. Only due to centuries of warrior discipline, was he able to respond without growling.

  “Hey, Tor, just checking in.”

  Shit. He had no right to be jealous, and he knew it, but Fates, it stung to think of the gorgeous sorceress holed up twenty-four/seven with the charming and handsome Viking, Tor Jansson. In truth, it was he who insisted True Harris receive a Guardian Angel. The hoops he jumped through just to convince the district attorney, St. Thomas More, to file the papers felt so much like groveling, it made Donovan see red. He groveled for no one, to no one. Except, apparently, when it came to True Harris. The request went through and at the end of the day, that was all that mattered. It still chafed him that he couldn’t be the one to protect True.

  “All is well, Donovan. True goes to work, goes home, and not much else. No signs of any suspicious immortals near the girl or her residence.” Tor paused and the hairs on the back of Donovan’s neck pricked. “Aye. The problem is her occupation. The divinator’s store is more difficult to guard. Practitioners and other immortals, in and out, with no pattern or cause to their movements. It’s a challenge to sort out potential threats. Luckily, Cressida keeps her wards up. I needn’t worry about spell casting within its walls.”

  Donovan grunted. He hated that Tor’s felt he needed to reassure him, and despised the fact he needed to hear it. “Don’t let the wards make you lazy, Tor.” He caught the Guardian’s hiss of indignation, but steamrolled right over him. “Your assignment is of the utmost importance. True Harris is the only immortal to have direct contact with the Horseman. You must needs pay attention to anyone and anything out of place. Notify me the second you find something unusual.”

  Donovan hung up before Tor could get a word in. Rude? Aye. Like he gave a shit. If the angel’s feelings were hurt, that was too fucking bad. Tor could either shut up and do his job or Donovan would march straight to Raguel’s office and demand he take Tor’s place as Guardian.

  Tonight, after Donovan hoped they would apprehend some, or mayhap all, of the daemons involved in True’s captivity and subsequent torture, he planned to pay a visit to the exquisite sorceress he failed to shake from the forefront of his mind. For whatever reason, Donovan felt he must needs be the one to personally deliver news of a successful raid. Watch True’s stunning blue eyes light up as he let her know she need worry no more. That the bastards who tortured her were jailed and her nightmares could cease. But more than anything, Donovan wanted to watch her cupid’s bow lips curl into a wide smile. Saved just for him. Because of him.

  In truth, no matter the outcome tonight, Donovan had no plans to rest until both Famine and the perverted mastermind behind the atrocities at the compound were captured. During his quest, he would take great pleasure in giving True daily updates, even if it was a veiled excuse to lay eyes upon her. Picturing her expression, one of gratitude, made Donovan’s skin flush as a familiar heat began to build low in his groin. Mayhap True would be so grateful for his deeds, she would fling herself at him and wrap her arms around his body in an embrace, then—

  “Heading out in three!” Michael’s booming voice yanked Donovan right out of his fantasy.

  Members of the team whooped and cheered around him. There were several rigid “yes, sirs” interspersed amongst the excited shouts. Donovan vibrated with excitement, the anticipation of battle pulsing fast and hot through his warrior’s veins. This was the very essence of what he was. Of who he was. The very reason for his existence. To take down evil and use his skills to protect others, or in this case, one very specific sorceress. His fingers flexed and curled into fists at his sides. The sooner they left, the better.

  He couldn’t wait to get his hands very fucking dirty.

  “SHE’S NEVER ALONE,” Joshua snarled, stalking back and forth in the large study of the safe house to which he retreated.

  “There must be a way, my Prince.” Abaddon wrung his hands, literally fucking wrung his hands! glancing at Vissago as he babbled. All the stultus required was a strand of pearls to clutch and a paper fan to wave at his face and he’d be the perfect picture of a frail human granny coming down with a case of the vapors.

  “Shut up so I can think.”

  Abaddon immediately snapped his jaw closed and took a few steps back. First intelligent thing Abaddon did all day. Especially with Vissago standing silently at the back of the room. Joshua’s second in command was a scary bastard, and Abaddon knew it.

  A century ago, Joshua purchased, via a pseudonym, several hundred acres of woodland far outside the Eastlake Falls city limits. Within the last fifty years, he changed ownership on the property’s title multiple times, going through several shell companies and non-existent investment firms set up by his cousin Dermot, the Son of Envy. Joshua and his crew were the immortal version the Mafia, well organized and disciplined. Dermot and his pathetic followers were petty snatch and grab criminals. But they had their uses. Such as putting themselves in the line of fire between Joshua and Michael, not that his dimwitted cousin knew as much.

  Using threats, payouts, and decades of working his contacts, Dermot managed to infiltrate every single level of the Eastlake Falls government. His connections in the Clerk’s Office, where property records are maintained, along with Joshua’s high-powered money launderers, ensured the land purchase could only be traced to a dozen dead ends. In exchange, Dermot made a shit-ton of money. To make the deal, he allowed Dermot, Son of Envy, to operate his gambling operations at the arena, and in return, Joshua had access to his cousin’s contacts throughout the city along with a portion of Dermot’s weekly take. Mayhap his deal with Dermot was generous, but Joshua wasn’t stupid, or a pushover. He knew Dermot only wanted the gambling because he wanted a piece of Joshua’s success at the arena. Envied what Joshua had.

  Deep in thought, he stared out the window at the thick forest which stretched for miles behind the mansion. Few structures stood on hundreds of acres, including the luxurious home, as well as a fenced area and tiny cottage for the Hellhounds and their new djinn as that stultus Balor got himself captured. Further back was a smaller house along with the barracks for his immortal army, both located several miles from the main residence. Not visible from the mansion.

  Though he planned for this day, in truth, Joshua never thought it would come. The mansion was a failsafe. A backup. A possibility that would never come to fruition. He hadn’t ever intended to use it. Joshua managed to successfully dance around Michael and his rules for so long, he came to believe the Archangel would never grow the balls needed to come after him. For fuck’s sake, he was a half-daemon Prince and a member of the Trinity! He should be immune from prosecution. Joshua’s contacts in law enforcement, however, told h
im different. Years of secret payouts finally proved useful, and one of his moles reported Michael and his angels were to raid the compound tonight. That prick Envy, only ever worried about his own interests, pulled out his people and his gambling op the second the information reached his ears.

  It infuriated Joshua to lose everything he worked to achieve. His cousin Maximus, the Son of Wrath, refused to cross that bastard Archangel Michael when Joshua asked if Maximus wanted in his plan. But no, Maximus wanted to keep his own violent sporting events on the legal side of things. Fates, the stultus’s father, Satan, would be disgusted by his spawn, falling into step at the whims of that prick, Michael. Joshua had to do everything on his own, using his daemon mafia thugs to arm twist immortals into helping create his empire. Setting up the gruesome underground fights daemons loved to watch, building the costly arena and the training area, finding and grooming the human stock… Every source of the greed on which his daemon fed—the sources he had his daemons beat and threaten others to create—all of it certain to either be destroyed, or at the very least, taken into custody by that pompous, do-gooder, son of a bastard djinn Archangel and his band of mindless minions. The only upside was because of his years of greasing palms and doling out threats, Joshua employed a team of dirty cops throughout the city. Through them, he heard about Michael’s plans to raid his various legal establishments where he very illegally laundered money, with enough time to evacuate his daemons and with them, remove most of his treasures. Unfortunately, when it came to the compound, Joshua’s pride and joy, his most prized possession of all, he couldn’t bring everything and what he did bring quickly got out of hand. The barracks behind the safe house weren’t as large as those left behind, thus grew overcrowded. Daemons in tight quarters led to fighting, which had the potential to lead to big problems that could catch someone’s attention.

  Problems Abaddon was supposed to contain.

  The only thing that kept Joshua from tearing the simpering, pathetic daemon apart, was knowing that a highly coveted new possession awaited him. Just the thought of owning it made Joshua’s pulse race and his daemon stir. Nothing got his other half going like a new toy.

  “The sorceress is in a unique position,” Joshua said out loud for his own benefit, not that stultus Abaddon’s. “She doesn’t live at the Regency and isn’t under their protection. Instead, that bastard cousin of mine, Lust, manipulated the system. I’ve been told his mate acquired a position at the immortal courthouse.”

  “That is very strange, my Prince,” Abaddon responded. Joshua ground his teeth and dug his claws into his palms so as to not backhand the jackass for stating the obvious. “It is my understanding every class nine must needs work for the Registry. Of course, now they are under lockdown, and no one knows where.”

  He ignored Abaddon’s insolence for speaking out of turn, as there were more pressing matters at hand. “That is what everyone is led to believe,” he stated. “But as we know now, thanks to my cousin’s soulmate, there are exceptions to the rule.” Joshua spun and gave the daemon a wide grin, so evil that Abaddon recoiled. “As a practitioner, the sorceress cannot dematerialize and with the looming threat, Lust will not leave her alone and unwarded. Which means his mate requires either an angelus or daemon to take her.” Joshua tapped a finger to his lips. “Through my observations, I have discovered that Dante personally brings his mate to and from the courthouse every day.”

  “Aye, my Prince. That is what I have also observed.” Joshua nodded, expecting as much, as there were times he sent Abaddon in his stead to monitor the sorceress.

  “Well, what if Lust were unable to do so?”

  “Apologies, my Prince. I-I don’t understand.”

  Abaddon, the slow-witted stultus, unsurprisingly, couldn’t grasp the point. Likely, the male took one too many hits to the head over the centuries. Joshua’s highest ranked daemon was only moderately more intelligent than Balor, and the djinn was about as clever as one of his rotting-corpse Hellhounds. No wonder the dumbass managed to get himself snagged by Michael. Joshua’s mind drifted to the logbook Balor swiped. At least he got what he needed out of the djinn before his capture.

  Joshua exhaled a pained sigh and exchanged a weary glance with Vissago. “Lust’s home is heavily warded, as is the courthouse. No immortal can dematerialize in or out of either, not even my cousin. I can only conclude that Dante must needs materialize in and out of his building from the hall outside his penthouse. We’ve already observed him materializing to and from the parking lot behind the courthouse. What if, for some reason, Dante wasn’t available to cart his precious mate back and forth? What then would he do?” Joshua stopped pacing and scratched the days’ worth of stubble on his chin. “How would the sorceress get to the courthouse?”

  “Drive, my Prince?”

  The gruesome sneer, fangs and all, caused Abaddon’s eyes to bulge, and weakling that he was, the daemon flinched. Fucking flinched.

  “No. Lust would never allow his soulmate to travel by vehicle knowing that class nines are being actively hunted. Use your head, Abaddon.” Joshua rapped the side of his skull with his knuckles to emphasize his point. Abaddon was lucky he didn’t have Vissago rap on his thick skull with something a bit sharper than fists.

  “Maybe… um, is it possible, my Prince, for Lust to ask another daemon to transport her?”

  “Exactly.” Joshua’s excitement built as a plan began to form. “I don’t see the girl skipping work. From what our courthouse sources tell us, the sorceress is dedicated to her position. That means the most likely scenario is another immortal, one Dante trusts, would take the place of Lust and dematerialize with his mate.”

  Abaddon’s eyebrows rose and his mouth curled into a grin. “And we can wait in the hall of the residence.” Finally, he gets it. Give the dumbass a prize.

  “Yes. And whomever Dante chooses to accompany his mate would not likely be as strong as my cousin. The Sons of the Daemon Kings are some of the most powerful immortals to walk the Earthly plane. With the element of surprise, it should be easy to take out the female’s companion. If we create a diversion in the morning, we can assume Dante’s replacement would be the same as in the afternoon. Whoever it is would rematerialize with the sorceress in the unwarded hallway of their building, just like Dante.”

  “It would be simple to take the sorceress there, my Prince. No security, no warding, and as the attack would be unexpected, we would be at the advantage.”

  Joshua narrowed his eyes and pulled his lips back, exposing the razor-sharp canines once more. “Nothing about taking a class nine sorceress is simple, you stultus. Do not ever underestimate how powerful she is! Just like that…”—He snapped his fingers and Abaddon paled— “the female could banish us both to the Underworld, and do it without breaking a sweat.”

  The daemon swallowed, eyes wide.

  Fucking useless bastard. Mayhap it is time to find a new trainer.

  “We shall require a spell and several items before we can move ahead. Items that will no doubt prove difficult to acquire,” Joshua explained.

  “What can I do to help, my Prince?”

  A slow smile spread across Joshua’s face as everything came together in his mind, the perfect plan taking shape. He could picture his success, the class nine sorceress at his fingertips. “Fetch the new djinn and bring him to me. Then you and I shall pay a visit the third-floor library. If I’ve learned anything over the centuries, it is that anything is possible. We must needs unearth a spell strong enough to hold a class nine sorceress and at the same time, render her powerless.”

  WORK DRAGGED. There were a few customers in Hope’s section, but not enough to keep her mind from wandering to sitting in the courtroom and spilling her guts. God, she had been scared sick. Seriously, knowing that thing’s eyes were on her, literally had her paralyzed. The only thing that got her through the ordeal was Thomas. He questioned her, voice steady and soothing, dark blue eyes conveying a peaceful calm. Hope focused on Thomas instead of the snarl
ing beast seated at the defendant’s table. It was nerve-wracking, but somehow she answered everything thrown at her, even the ridiculous, demeaning questions from the jerk defense lawyer. The bastard kept bringing up the fact that Hope used to be a stripper, therefore she must be stupid, her brain shriveled and shrunken because she took her clothes off. When the ass tried for the tenth time to shame her, Hope kept her gaze on Thomas so she wouldn’t tell the lawyer to go to hell.

  “Hope! I’m so glad you’re working tonight. It’s good to see you.”

  Verity’s soft voice jerked her to the present. Excited to see her friend, she lay down her tray and hurried to give Vee a hug. Vee was beaming. Literally glowing with happiness. Ever since her shy ex-roommate started to date Mr. Cassavettes—er, Davin—Vee never looked better.

  “Oh my God, Vee. I’ve missed you.”

  Vee wrapped her arms around Hope, squeezing her tight. “I missed you, too. You look amazing.”

  Hope stepped back and quirked a brow while gesturing down at her outfit.

  “This?” Hope asked. “You think this looks amazing?” They broke out in a fit of the giggles. Her new job as a waitress at Intrigue—Dante’s chain of bars and dance clubs—required uniforms for the staff. As a waitress, she wore teeny-tiny black shorts that left zero to the imagination, paired with a navy blue tee at least two sizes too small and stamped with the club logo on her left breast. “You’re too kind. This is… a little tight.” She said she didn’t like the clothes, but Hope was beyond grateful. She would wear anything if it meant leaving her g-string days behind.