Well, I’ll be damned… Stepping closer, he inhaled sharply. The waitress’ spine stiffened, her shoulder’s straightened, and she accelerated to a brisk clip toward their table.
“I’ll get you gentlemen some coffee,” she offered, avoiding all eye contact with them as she handed out menus before hastily taking her leave.
He watched the female hurry away, perplexed to discover the warrior’s scent clinging to her. Admittedly, he didn’t know a lot about the Ronnin, but he knew warriors—angelic or fallen—and none of them were the touchy-feely type.
“What’s your problem?” Rowen’s gravelly voice grated against his nerves. “Now’s not the time to be cruising for a piece of ass.”
“Shut up,” Haden snarled under his breath. “The woman and the warrior were here, and that girl knows something. I can smell him on her.”
Rowen let out a snort of laughter. “I think your nose is high.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, ‘I think your fucking nose is high.’ There ain’t no way that warrior’s been with the girl. His dick gets hard for one female and it ain’t that skittish waitress. I’m tellin’ ya, she don’t know shit.”
“Says you. I never said he fucked her. I’m just saying his scent is on her!” The urge to jump across the table and bust Rowen right in the mouth was a temptation he wasn’t likely to resist if he had to sit here much longer.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Cale asked. “Why don’t you go talk to her?”
“Because she’s spooked by the looks of you morons.”
“She ain’t gonna talk to you because she ain’t stupid! It has nothing to do with any of us,” Rowen growled. “In case you haven’t looked in the mirror lately, your puss doesn’t exactly say ‘I’m not gonna eat your liver with a bottle of Chianti and fava beans!’”
Haden glowered at him. Their gazes were still locked in a standoff when the waitress came back over, pot of coffee in hand. She poured each of their cups full and pulled out a pen and paper. “Are you ready to order?” Her clipped tone told him she’d rather be anywhere but here.
“Yes,” Haden said, breaking Rowen’s stink-eye glare to smile up at her. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Aimee,” she answered, pointing to where her name tag should have been, but wasn’t.
Haden’s brow quirked up in amusement. “Well, Aimee, thanks for that visual. I doubt I’ll ever forget your name now.”
Her face reddened when she looked down and realized she was pointing at her boob. He chuckled, taking far too much pleasure in the girl’s discomfort. Damn, he must be hard up for entertainment. Of course, looking at his company, it was easy to tell why.
“Was there something you wanted to order?” she snapped impatiently.
Clearly, she didn’t find this as amusing as he did.
“I’ll have a number two.”
The others placed their orders, and the girl nearly broke her ankle trying to get away from them.
It didn’t take long for their food to arrive. She’d probably put a rush on it, anxious for them all to get the hell out of here. He didn’t mind, he wasn’t here to socialize with the little half-wit. Once he got what he wanted, he’d be outta here. They ate their breakfast in silence—all eyes watching him watch the female.
The warrior’s scent had sent his senses on high alert. His predatory instincts zeroed in on the waitress as he visually stalked her, waiting for his opportunity to strike. When the girl walked down a back hallway, ducking out of his sight, he shoved his plate away and leapt up. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he growled, taking off after her.
“Excuse me,” Haden called, rushing up to her.
The waitress stopped abruptly and spun around. Looking like a cornered mouse, her eyes darted left then right, no doubt puzzling out an escape plan. “Can I help you?” she asked nervously. The bitter tang of her fear spiked the air. The rapid tick of her pulse fluttered in the little divot of her throat, giving away her rising panic.
“I certainly hope so. There was a couple that came in here not too long ago. A big guy, I guess women would say was good-looking. He was here with a black-haired beauty—bright green eyes…ring any bells?”
Aimee frowned, looking as if she was trying really hard to remember. He wasn’t buying it. Hope her memory improved real quick. It wasn’t that he was opposed to getting what he wanted out of the female. Hell, he’d rather enjoy a round of “Cat and Mouse” with her. But she was pregnant, he could sense the second life force inside her, and that was the only thing saving the bitch’s life. He might be a heartless bastard, but killing the unborn was a low not even he would stoop to.
Especially not after…
Oh, hell no, he was not going there again. Not now—not ever.
“I’m not sure who you’re talking about.” The female lied like a pro. “I just got here myself.”
“Now, Aimee,” Haden drawled, moving a step closer and forcing her to take one back unless she wanted that nameless rack of hers crushed against his chest. “See, I know that you know exactly who I’m talking about, because you’ve been in physical contact with the guy I’m lookin’ for.” He bent to her neck and inhaled deeply, enjoying the startled catch of her breath. “Now, all I want is for you to tell me which direction they went and how long ago they left.”
“They left about ten minutes ago,” she squeaked, fear constricting her throat. “I… I heard him say something to the woman about stopping at the motel to check out.”
“And what motel would that be?”
“The o…only one in town,” she managed. “Just a few blocks up the road. Please,” she begged, “let me go.” She turned to the side, pressing her back against the wall as she tried to slide past him.
“Certainly,” Haden replied, taking a gallant step back, allowing her to pass. “Hey, Aimee,” he called after her.
She froze, stumbling to a halt, but didn’t turn back to look at him.
“You’d better not be lying to me.”
“Why would I? I don’t even know who they were,” she replied before rushing into the kitchen.
Haden marched down the hall and found The Three Stooges still sitting at the table. “They headed back to the motel to check out,” he said, kicking the side of Cale’s boot. “Let’s go, time’s a wastin’.”
Haden was already in the car, not so patiently waiting, when Rowen and the others walked out. He punched the gas a few times, revving the old Buick’s engine, telling them to hurry the hell up. Cale grumbled something to Rowen, and he briefly considered taking off, leaving them all behind. A tempting thought, for sure, but as much as he hated to admit it, he needed those assholes to distract the warrior. The three climbed into the car, and Rowen barely got the door shut before Haden gunned it. The Buick lurched forward, pelting the diner with gravel.
“You know, you could make a bigger effort not to draw so much attention to yourself,” Rowen growled. “Are you trying to get us pulled over? ‘Cause that’s gonna end real well.” His heated glare bore into Haden from the passenger seat. “In case you haven’t figured it out, I don’t like you. You’re a hothead and you’re intolerant to authority. Make no mistake, Haden, I’m the leader of this little mission, and if you continue to act like such an ass, you and I are going to have a little ‘Come to Jesus meeting,’ if you get my drift.”
Haden looked straight ahead, trying to keep the smile off his face. This stupid bastard really has no idea who he was dealing with. Someone should clue him in before he gets himself killed.
“I’m not one of your posse’, Rowen,” Haden replied in a dead calm voice. “And before you go around threatening people, I’d suggest you take the time to know exactly who you’re threatening.” Haden took his eyes off the road and leveled him with a cold hard stare.
The tension in the car was tactile, and Cale shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Hey, there’s a motel. I bet that’s the place,” he said, pointing to the small run-down shithole
on their left.
Reluctantly, Haden fixed his eyes back on the road, unwilling to forfeit their pissing contest.
“It looks pretty skanky, though,” Cale continued, a pathetic attempt to distract Haden from ripping Rowen’s head off. “I’m not sure he’d bring her here.”
“That’s exactly why he’d bring her here,” Haden grumbled, jerking the wheel hard and to the left, jumping the curb of the parking lot.
***
Holy shit, was Rowen trying to get them all killed? Was playing let’s-see-who-has-the-biggest-balls really worth getting them lopped off? He didn’t know about Rowen, but Cale preferred his right where they belonged—between his legs. He kept his distance as Haden hopped out of the car and strode up to the motel. The guy moved with menacing grace and an air of entitlement he’d no doubt earned from blood, sweat, and tears—of his victims.
The door chimed as Haden walked inside. He and the others followed behind.
“Can I help you?” the old man asked from behind the desk, not bothering to look up.
“Yes, you can,” Haden said, leaning against the counter. “You had a couple check out of here a little bit ago. Registered under the first name of Liam, perhaps? I need you to tell me the make and model of the car he was driving, along with the plate number.”
The clerk slowly lifted his head at Haden’s arrogant request, his already wrinkled face puckered into a surly scowl. Shooting a wary glance past Haden to Rowen, Rhen and finally himself, the man tensed.
“Sorry, fellas, I can’t give that sort of information out.”
When Haden stepped closer, the clerk’s arm subtly reached under the counter. Cale gave a slight shake of his head, warning him to stop.
Don’t do it, man. Being a hero isn’t worth your life.
And that’s exactly the payment Haden would demand if this guy had the nerve to stick a gun in his face.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me correctly,” Haden drawled, menace saturating his voice. “I’m here for the make, model, and plate number of that car.”
The old man cast a nervous glance over Haden’s shoulder. “I heard you just fine,” he said—reaching… “But I can’t give you the information you’re looking for.”
Oh shit, here we go…
Before the man could blink, Haden’s hand shot out across the counter and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, jerking him inches from Haden’s face, his pale green eyes flashing brightly as they bore into the fear-stricken man.
“Can’t or won’t?” Haden growled and then glanced at Cale, nodding his head toward the counter.
Moving on cue, he walked behind the counter to get the log book. “It’s right here,” he said, placing the black ledger on the counter.
“The gun,” Haden growled, reaching out his hand. “Hand me the gun.”
Cale pulled the revolver out from behind the counter. The second he slapped it into Haden’s impatient hand, he turned it on the clerk. “Were you going to draw down on me, old man? Is this what you were reaching for?”
The guy didn’t answer. Not that there was anything he could say to save himself now.
“I’m going to give you to the count of three to tell me what I want to know, or you’re a dead man. One…”
“I can’t tell you! I don’t know anything!” the old guy pleaded.
“Two…”
“Please…don’t! Oh Jesus! Please forgive me for the mistakes I’ve made!”
Cale’s gut twisted, a knot of dread stuck in his throat. He tensed—
“Three…”
A deafening shot popped in the small office and the old man crumpled to the floor. Haden looked down at him with vacant eyes—the apathetic stare of a cold blooded killer. The crimson pool touched the tip of his right boot and he lifted his foot, wiping it clean against the man’s leg before taking an exaggerated step back.
“Congratulations,” Cale growled. “You just killed a defenseless old man. You should be so proud.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Haden snapped, raising his arm to level the .38 Special at Cale’s chest. The revolver’s click chambered another round. “Or you’ll be joining him! Now hand me that damn log book!”
Cale slid the book across the counter and Haden jerked it out of his grasp. He flipped to the last page of entries, his index finger sliding down, searching the page. “Dammit!” he snarled, slamming the book shut. In a fit of rage, he swiped his arm across the counter, sending the book sailing through the air. Missing Cale’s head by mere inches, the ledger crashed into the wall behind him.
As quickly as the outburst came, it was over. Haden looked down at the dead man one last time and gave a negligent shrug of his shoulders. “I’ll be damned, you really didn’t know, after all,” he casually drawled, turning to walk out of the office. “My bad.”
As the door closed behind him, Cale spun toward Rowen and growled, “You know, we’ve all taken sides in this war. And there are things I’ve done and consequences that I’m prepared to live with for eternity, but the senseless killing of innocents isn’t one of them. This does nothing to further our cause. It’s not what I signed up for. The last thing we need is the incessant wailing of the innocent pleading for justice. And I’ll be damned if I want that vengeance brought down on my head!”
Rowen stood there a moment, watching him with that damn flat stare of his. “You’re getting soft, Cale—or weak. And frankly, you’re no good to me either way. So, buck the fuck up, or go back to Sheol,” he snapped, storming out of the office.
Cale’s scowl deepened and he shook his head in disbelief. Bastards… You’re all just a bunch of bastards…
As he turned to leave, he caught Rhen watching him from the corner of his eye, his face an unreadable mask. Rhen never had much to say. He was a good soldier, always did what he was told, took orders—never questioned them.
“What?” Cale barked.
Rhen cocked a brow and casually crossed his arms over his chest. Casting an apathetic glance at the dead man on the floor, he said, “You’re makin’ waves, Cale. What the fuck do you care if they die? Look at you, acting all ‘Mother Teresa’ and shit. You’re spookin’ me, and pissin’ Rowen off. So enough already.”
Before he could reply, Rhen turned around and strolled out of the small office, the soft chime of the bell above the door ringing overhead as he left.
Aw hell… Cale let out a sigh as he walked around the counter to leave. The dead man’s blank stare seemed to watch his every move, sending a chill of dread creeping over his flesh. How could the others be so ignorant? It was only a matter of time before they all paid the price for Haden’s stupidity.
Chapter Eight
The passing miles failed to calm Olivia’s nerves. Her anxiety prickled Liam’s flesh like a thousand needles, wearing his own nerves raw. He was tempted to reach over and take her hand—to let his calming strength flow through her and balm her fears. But he held back, struggling to keep those tenuous boundaries in check—boundaries he was trying like hell to respect.
He knew all too well the slippery slope of crossing them, and if he had any hope of walking away from this—from her —when this was over, he must guard his heart. Olivia had no clue as to the depth of pain and misery he’d endured while being separated from her.
That suffering was only compounded by the bond they shared, which allowed him to feel her emotions. And he did—every last one of them, every minute, of every hour, of every day, of every month. Every year that she mourned his absence only compounded his own grief. He’d considered it penance for his violation of Universal Law. It helped him endure the impossible. But, the impossible was now sitting right here, right next to him, in need of his comfort—his strength.
Liam glanced at her, carefully schooling his expression. Olivia met his gaze, her lower lip trapped between her teeth again. Sighing in defeat, he reached over to take her hand, threading his fingers between hers. “You’re doing it again,” he scolded.
“Am I?” She stopped nibbli
ng and swiped her tongue over the raw spot on her bottom lip.
A knot fisted in his gut, heat flooded his veins, swiftly traveling south. His mouth watered at the memory of the way she tasted—refreshing as sun-kissed dew and as intoxicating as honey-flavored wine.
Holy hell… Liam looked away, but couldn’t bring himself to sever the physical contact. The heat of her hand felt too good against his palm, her long, delicate fingers wrapped between his. Already, he could feel her anxiety ebb as she drew from his calming strength. At least that was the excuse he used for not pulling back when he knew damn well he had no business touching her.
Olivia let out a deep sigh and settled into her seat. “Thanks,” she said, giving him a timid smile.
He didn’t reply, casting her another quick glance.
“Do you have any idea who’s following us?”
He nodded, not feeling too particularly chatty with his jeans suddenly fitting a whole lot tighter and pinching in places he’d rather not think about.
“Do you want to tell me about them?”
Not really…but he would. Perhaps the distraction would help unfurl the knot in his gut. “You remember that day on the boat, when we were in Clear Water?”
“I remember.” She smiled nostalgically. “How could I forget? You kissed me for the first time on that boat.”
Oh…so not helping. He pretended not to hear her comment, or feel the slight brush of her thumb across the top of his hand. “When we were on the boat and those three demons came for you—it’s them. And they have a hunter with them, but I don’t know who he is. That’s why they’re finding us so easily.”
“How is it possible that you don’t know who this hunter is?”
“I know of him. I’ve heard stories about him, but I’ve never met him. I don’t know him like Rowen, Cale or Rhen. It’s complicated. He wasn’t alive during the Great Fall, which means he wasn’t created angelic. The Dark Court doesn’t possess the ability to create life, so he’s not genetically demonic. But he’s powerful, and gifted. He’s too strong to be a mortal—”
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