Hope For More (Trinity Book 3)

by Devin Fontaine

  “Shhh. We’ll talk later. Right now, try not to think about it.”

  Hope closed her eyes and leaned into Thomas, accepting the comfort offered. His warmth seeped into her freezing body and she stopped shivering. Every time she inhaled, she got a lungful of his scent. The powerful aroma filled her head and made her feel as if she were floating. All her worries fell away. It was only them. Him. His presence warm, like a hot drink on a cold day.

  “We’re here.”

  Blinking, she woke to find the cab idling in front of her building. She must have dozed off. “Home?”

  “Yes.” Thomas opened his door and climbed out. He leaned down and stuck his head in. “Wait there.” Thomas hurried around the car and opened the door for her. A hand reached in and helped her out onto the sidewalk. Inside the lobby, Hope noticed several people staring, expressions of horror on their faces. Frowning, she glanced down and saw the blood all over her hands and clothes.

  “Oh God.” Bile rose up her throat. “I need to clean up.” Her heart slammed against her chest and for the first time since the incident, panic crept into her veins, like bugs under her skin, crawling, itching, unwavering in their goal to make her want to scratch all her skin off. “Get these off of me.” She clawed at her shirt as her throat tightened and it became difficult to breathe.

  One minute, Hope was scrabbling to pull the shirt over her head, the next her feet left the ground and she was safe and warm in Thomas’s arms. He carried her off the elevator on her floor. “Keys?”

  “M-my purse.”

  Thomas fumbled one-handed to dig around in the bag while still holding onto her. He pulled out the keychain and tried each one until the lock opened. Without breaking stride, he stormed inside and kicked the door shut, not stopping until they were in the bathroom down the hall.

  “Is this where you shower?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you stand?”

  “I-I don’t know.” Hope’s entire body wobbled as if it were made of gummy worms, all loose and floppy. She barely had control of her limbs. Any strength from earlier at work was used up, sapped. Suddenly, she felt incredibly tired. Exhausted.

  Thomas put the toilet lid down and carefully sat her on it. “Good?” he asked, making sure she was steady before he let go.

  Hope nodded and Thomas ducked out of the bathroom. While he was gone, she stared at her hands. Dried blood covered both in a horrific display. It looked like she dipped her hands in a bucket of it. Her T-shirt was stained too, the red having dried a gruesome rust color and for the first time since she watched a man get mauled to death, she panicked.

  Off! I have to get it off.

  Hope grabbed at the hem and yanked the shirt over her head. The band around her chest tightened and she stuffed it in the trash and slid off the toilet to get further away from the evidence of a life lost. By the time Thomas returned, Hope huddled in a ball on the floor in the corner by the tub, holding her trembling hands out in front of her. Through watery eyes she saw him fall to his knees.

  “Hope? Fates, are you okay?”

  “I can’t stop seeing it. The blood. So much blood.”

  “I know, baby.” Thomas tugged Hope into his lap and held her, rocking gently until she stopped shaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Your suit,” she croaked. Flaky, dry blood smeared all over the front of Thomas’s light gray jacket and white dress shirt.

  “I don’t care about the suit. I care about you.”

  Blinking, she stared up at Thomas as her heart thundered. His gaze was so focused, so intense, she could feel how much her cared just from looking into his eyes.

  “But I thought you…”

  Doesn’t he think I’m a whore? Dirty and disgusting for what I used to do?

  “You thought what, baby?” Thomas whispered as he brushed hair back from her face. Her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into the touch. God, she didn’t know how much she needed this. The warmth of human contact.

  “Nothing. I’m just glad you’re here.”

  “I don’t want to be anywhere else.” He kissed the top of her head. “Are you ready to get cleaned up?”

  The warmth subsided and icicles trickled in at the thought of the blood. Then Hope remembered she was in Thomas’s arms, shirtless, and her whole body burned with embarrassment. Hell, she was sitting on the bathroom floor, wearing shorts and a bra and bathed in dried blood, while the sweetest, sexiest man in the world stared into her eyes. He didn’t seem to notice, or care about, her semi-naked state, which shocked her. After spending so much time acting as an object, Hope was used to men staring at her body, only seeing her worth in her tits and ass. It never occurred to Hope that a man would pass them by to look at her face. Yet Thomas’s eyes never dropped lower than her chin. Not once.

  “Yes. I-I need to shower. Can you…?” He stood and extended a hand to help her off the cold tiles. She grasped it and he pulled her to her feet. “Can… can you wait for me? You won’t leave, will you?”

  The look in his eyes nearly knocked her back down. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving, Hope.” Thomas reached out and held Hope’s face while he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Mayhap some tea will help.”

  “Thank you.”

  The brilliance of his smile made Hope shudder and when he brushed his fingers across her cheeks, chill bumps pricked her arms. “You don’t have to thank me. I’ll always be there for you, Hope.”

  Thomas stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door to give her some privacy. As she stood under the scalding hot water, Hope wondered what Thomas meant. What he wanted. Last time she saw him, he admitted he wanted her, then followed up that declaration with an offer to drive her home. At the time, she figured it was because, like every other decent guy, he didn’t want to date a stripper. Ex-stripper. But what if she was wrong?

  What if Thomas wanted her, but was trying to do right by her? To not take advantage? To treat her with respect?

  What would respect even feel like?

  Hope decided to hold off her earlier judgment and wait and see where things between them went. Despite the terrifying events of today, she would get over it and the bloody images. Heck, she got over her parents’ deaths, living in squalor, going hungry, a bizarre assault, and the trial of a would-be rapist. She was strong. She could be around Thomas and not worry about what he thought of her or where they were headed.

  For now, Hope would enjoy whatever her time with Thomas would bring, and not worry about the fact that, like all good things in her life, it had an expiration date.

  That would have to be enough and it was more than she ever thought she’d have.

  Hope learned a long time ago not only to not expect much out of people, but that something was better than nothing. She would take her something and commit every second to memory so that years from now, she could remember a time she was truly happy.

  CHAPTER 11

  “T his city is completely out of control. It’s descending into chaos reminiscent of the time which led up to the Great Battle,” Thomas said to the group of immortals as he stalked back and forth at the front of the room. “Dead angels, dead daemons, Hellhound attacks during the day in front of humans, this compound, and the rogue Horseman.” He grimaced and curled his fingers into his palms, not wincing when blunt fingernails cut into soft flesh. Thomas whirled around to glare at Michael. “And what is being done? Eastlake Falls cannot go on like this. If it does, it is inevitable that humans shall find out about us and then what?” He stopped and braced his bleeding palms on the table. “Mass panic? Riots? Another war?”

  “I understand your concerns,” Michael said from the far end of the table. The Archangel was, as usual, sitting tall and straight in his chair, his always stern countenance never breaking. Not once.

  Rigid bastard.

  “Do you?” he snapped. “Do you really? You’re not the one out there dealing with this shit.” Thomas stabbed a finger toward the windows w
hich overlooked the city, then turned his hand around and jabbed the same finger into his own chest. “I’m out there. They’re out there.” He gestured toward the detectives. “We’ve seen the carnage and I’m the one to sit with the victims and explain that there isn’t anyone to punish for the crimes committed against them or their loved ones, because we can’t fucking catch them whilst you sit in your office like a bloody statue!”

  Michael raised a thick blond brow, his glare so sharp it could cut glass. When he spoke, his voice came out even sharper. Like the Archangel, it was ice cold and unwavering. “I suggest you calm down and take your seat, Mr. More.”

  Thomas glanced around the table and found seven other sets of eyes glued to him. With a loud huff, he dropped into the nearest chair and crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

  “I agree with Thomas.” When Thomas looked up, the Son of Lust was staring down the Archangel, not a hint of fear on his face, though Lust’s frustration was obvious to any who looked. “Someone is targeting me specifically, and not one of you can tell me a single fucking thing.” Thomas’s gaze cut to Joan who scowled at the daemon’s liberal use of curses. “I want to know who the bastard is behind this, and I’m not talking about the Horseman. We’ve known for months that Famine is working with whomever ran that human death camp. You simply waited too long to stage a raid and now whomever it is, is gone. That makes these deaths your fault, Michael,” Lust roared, his daemon eyes glowing.

  Several immortals sucked in their breath, shocked that the daemon prince dared to speak with such disrespect to the Archangel. Michael didn’t seem to care. His only response was a slight downturn at one corner of his mouth.

  “Mayhap you flaunt the law now and then, Lust. Walk the ever narrowing line between right and wrong. You have that luxury. I do not. I must needs take my orders from the Hereafter. From the Fates. The second the go ahead was issued I moved on the compound and rescued the human captives.” The huge angel stood, placed his palms flat on the table, and leaned forward, towering over the others. The Archangel’s face flushed a dark red and the cords of his thick neck strung taut. Fates, it was the first time in centuries Thomas had seen the unflappable immortal lose his temper. Since Michael found his soulmate. Honor actually as the female kept the male fairly grounded. “In truth, do you not believe I wish to put an end to the senseless killing? Do you believe I wish my citizens to die?” Michael made a disgusted noise in his throat. “Think again, daemon.” He returned to his previous position, sitting upright in his chair, stone-faced once more. “Now, if you’re going to act like a spoiled and whiny infant troll…” Michael glanced at Thomas to let him know he was included in this little lecture, and just about fainted on the spot from the fury in Michael’s glare. “If any of you wish to argue my methods…” He cut his gaze to address the rest of the room. “Then you’re not helping the investigation and you may take your leave. If you desire to be a part of the solution and rather than a problem, then shut up and act like a productive member of this task force.”

  Silence.

  Even Lust sat quiet, the half-daemon leaning back in his chair, scowling, but unwilling to challenge Michael, instead staring at his hands. Thomas could tell by the way his shoulders shook that Lust was fuming mad and likely biting his tongue, but the daemon was no stultus. No way would he chance getting kicked out of the loop when his businesses were the ones to suffer the most.

  “No one has anything to say?” Michael asked, calm as could be. He waited a beat and when none spoke, he continued. “Good. We shall treat the Hellhound attack as unrelated to the immortal deaths. Tony and Donovan shall lead that investigation. Joan shall continue to search for Famine and try to figure out how the Horseman managed to kill immortals. Remember, we still have zero proof that Famine and the mastermind behind the human prison are working together, or even know of each other, and we shall move forward as such until there is sufficient evidence to the contrary.”

  Tony cleared his throat and everyone turned his way. “We know for a fact there was both a djinn and a pack of Hellhounds on the property. We found evidence during the raid, and also have an eyewitness account given by our undercover agent.” Tony tipped his head at Donovan who nodded since he was the agent in question. “We are working under the assumption that when the perpetrator in charge of the compound fled, he or she took the Hounds to wherever he or she is currently holed up. We know the original djinn, Balor Daemon, has been prosecuted and banished. That means the last alpha Hellhound is now the new pack djinn.”

  “Why would a djinn send one of his Hounds to attack a human?” someone asked.

  Good question.

  “We don’t know,” Donovan answered. The big angel folded his hands on top of the conference table. “Whilst I was undercover as a human fighter, the Hounds weren’t used for anything save occasional dogfights. Usually for entertainment purposes though at times as punishment, sicced upon misbehaving immortals. In truth, I have no idea what would possess either the one in charge or the djinn to expose himself by using one of the Hellhounds in broad daylight.”

  “Because he despises me,” Lust groused.

  “Mayhap,” Tony said. “We simply don’t know. Mayhap he’s testing something. Mayhap the djinn or his boss wants to see how much he can get away with before we catch on to him.”

  “You believe he’s plotting something bigger?” Lust asked. The daemon’s eyes narrowed and his overflowing aura spilled suffocating tendrils of rage into the air. Mayhap Thomas couldn’t see his aura, but Lust was putting out so much anger, it was impossible not to feel it. From the pinched looks on his fellow angelen and sancten’s faces, they agreed.

  “It’s just one of the ideas I’ve been toying with.” Tony shrugged.

  “It makes sense and it’s the only theory we have,” Michael agreed and everyone swung their heads around to face him. The Archangel ran a hand across his square chin. “We shall go upon the assumption that the Hound attack was a test. The benefactor, who we shall refer to as the ‘Unknown’ from here on out, is pushing his limits, mayhap studying our reactions and response time to an attack when we’d be least likely to expect one.”

  “Daytime,” Tony concluded.

  Michael nodded. “Aye. All right. Everyone take your orders from Tony. He shall report back to me.” Michael stood and left the room, taking with him his commanding, and quite intimidating, presence.

  There was a collective sigh of relief when the door closed behind the Archangel. Lust grimaced and turned to Tony.

  “I must needs be kept informed, detective.”

  “I’ll do what I can—”

  “No!” Lust barked. His eyes glimmered an even brighter shade of blue and Thomas nearly choked on the flood of fury the daemon emitted. “You shall tell me everything, and I shall do a little investigating of mine own. When I find something, I shall let you know.”

  The Son of Lust stood and exited, taking his outraged and smothering aura with him. Thank the Fates.

  As each member of the task force left the room one-by-one, Thomas remained seated, his thoughts turned to Hope. Last night, after she washed off the blood and gore, they sat on the couch in silence. To his delight, Hope ended up curled in his embrace. There wasn’t anything sexual about it, the contact simply warm and comforting. Thomas held her for hours, content just to have her near. It was possible he spent a bit too much time inhaling her addictive lavender scent, almost getting high on it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. When Hope finally drifted into a twitchy, restless sleep, Thomas carried her to her room and carefully laid her on the bed.

  Fates, he wanted to stay with her. More than anything. Thomas wanted to climb in next to her, cuddle close, and hold the female all night long, his body curled around hers, shielding her innocence from the horrors of the Earthly plane. Instead, he stood at her bedside long enough to be considered creepy, whilst wondering what it would be like to wake up next to her. To see those beautiful cinnamon eyes first thing in the
morning.

  Unfortunately, Garrett was due home soon, and to put it nicely, the easily agitated male would be less than appreciative to find him sharing a bed with his baby sister.

  With a sigh, Thomas gathered his thoughts and trudged back to the courthouse. The hour was late, but he still had work to be done and criminals to prosecute. Not that he finished much of anything, his attention fractured the rest of the day and evening. If Lust were correct, and he was the main target of these attacks, how safe would Hope be whilst working at the daemon’s bar?

  The thought nagged at Thomas until his stomach burned and his gut ended up twisted in tight knots. Mayhap he could convince Hope to quit. But would she listen?

  Doubtful.

  For whatever reason, Hope loved working for the Son of Lust. She even considered the daemon prince to be a savior of sorts. Thomas snorted at the very idea. If she knew what Lust was, in truth she’d think differently. Except when he gave it further consideration, mayhap not. He must needs admit, Lust did help Hope whilst she was down. Thomas hated being forced to accept that the daemon was the one to throw her and her brother a lifeline, offer a way out of their cycle of poverty.

  Selfishly, Thomas wanted to be the one Hope turned to in times of need. The one she smiled at and hugged because he made everything better. He got a small taste of it last evening, when Hope did turn to him. He had been relieved to see there was no hesitation on Hope’s part when he showed up at the bar and took charge, manhandling her into a cab, into her home, then stood guard whilst she cleaned up. As ridiculous as it sounded, the knowledge that she wanted him there… needed him there, soothed him.

  It was late when Thomas finished what must needs be done at the office, though he was so unfocused he barely got through it all. By the time the files were packed away and door to the office locked, he was frazzled, distracted, and left with a throbbing head. All Thomas wanted to do was go directly to Hope’s apartment and see if mayhap she wouldn’t mind allowing him to hold her again. She wouldn’t be at work as the bar would be closed for a couple of days, not only to repair the broken window from the crazed Hellhound which crashed through it, but also because the crime scene had yet to be released.