“She doesn’t know.”
“And why would you?” she demanded.
When Riley didn’t respond, an icy shiver slid down her spine. Kira wrapped her arms around her trembling body. “Why now? Why not at my high school graduation—or, hell, my twenty-first birthday?” Anger and hurt swept through her.
Riley rose to his feet. “I cannot say. I suppose he’ll explain everything when he sees you.”
“Sees me?”
“He would like you to visit him.”
“Visit him?”
Riley eyed her silently. But at his nod, blood buzzed to her head, and her fury exploded. “If he wants me that much, then why the hell didn’t he come himself? I’ll be twenty-five in a few days, and not once did he make contact. Not even an unsigned birthday card to say, hey, you’re not really an orphan! Suddenly, now he remembers he has a daughter?” A sob caught in her throat. God. She shoved her fingers into her hair and spun away, glaring helplessly at the memo-crammed corkboard nailed to the wall. Nothing could take away the betrayal choking her.
“A-and what was all that crap about the plane crash? Was he even on the aircraft? W-what about my mother? Is she alive too and having a good ol’ life with him—”
“Kira…” Riley gently laid his hands on her upper arms, stopping her bitter explosion of words. She lowered her hands, eyes brimming with tears, and looked into his steady green stare. “I understand why you’re upset, believe me. But he has his reasons. He is a…very private person. And he really wants to see you—”
“I don’t care. Tell him you couldn’t find me. Tell him I’m dead!”
A faint smile touched Riley’s mouth. “He knows you are fine and well cared for.”
But something about his quiet expression hauled Kira back to awareness, back to a place where she could think again. How he did it, she had no clue. She tilted her head sideways, her eyes narrowing in puzzlement. “Who are you?”
Riley let her go and took a few steps back, running his palm over his buzzed hair. “Merely the messenger. Look, Kira, go see him. Maybe then you’ll understand everything.”
A soft knock sounded, shattering the tense air.
Riley cut her another look before he opened the door. A petite but curvy girl a few years younger than Kira walked inside. It actually shocked her to see how Riley’s entire demeanor softened into tenderness when he saw her.
“Wow, it’s sure cold out there. I’m so sorry I’m late, Riley, but Zayn refused to get his lazy hide out of bed. Said he had a hectic night and needed the rest—” Her eyes lit on Kira, and she smiled, revealing a single dimple in her cheek.
The girl was gorgeous, with hip-length ebony hair and gold-flecked brown eyes. “You must be Kira. Riley only mentioned you last night.” She cast Riley an exasperated look, and Kira sensed a kindred spirit. “I’m Saia—”
“My wife,” Riley said. He drew her close and pressed a kiss to her brow. “In my defense, sweetheart, like I said, I—”
“It’s okay.” Saia patted his chest, her attention back on Kira. “Are you going to see your sir—uh, dad?” she asked.
“She hasn’t made up her mind yet.”
“I did make up my mind,” Kira countered. “I’m not going to see him. He conveniently forgets that he has a child, then wakes up one morning and suddenly decides he wants me? Well, I don’t need a father at this stage of my life. I managed just fine without one.”
Saia eyed Kira warily then glanced at Riley as if unsure what to do.
A soft sigh escaping him, Riley picked up her cell from the desk and tapped in something. Then his phone rang and cut off. “My number.” He set her cell down again. “I have to leave in a few days. Think about it and call me soon if you change your mind, okay?”
“Why? Does my father live across the ocean?” she snipped.
A slight hesitation. “Yes. Quite far.”
Saia gave her a compassionate smile and then walked out with Riley.
Kira stood there for several minutes, staring blankly into space, too upset to do anything. Then she snatched her cell off the desk and dialed Gran but hung up before the first ring. Why worry her grandmother with this news when she was so far away. She couldn’t answer her phone or do anything about it anyhow.
The office door opened again. Jesse, the other waitress, poked her blond head into the office. “There you are. Thanks for covering for me, hun. Paul finally settled down for the night. My poor baby, I hate when he gets sick. At least my mom’s there now.”
Kira forced a smile. “I don’t mind helping out.”
“By the way, there’s one absolutely drool-worthy hunk looking for you. He’d put even the movie stars to shame.” Jesse sighed, her eyes bright with excitement. “The women would probably overpower him if he didn’t wear that, keep-the-hell-away-from-me look so well. First Echo, now you? Where do you guys find them?”
With her mind in turmoil, Kira simply shook her head. “Tell him I’ll be there in a minute. I have to change out of my uniform.”
God, her freakin’ father was alive. Maybe she should meet him and spit right in his face that he was nothing but a sperm donor!
Chapter 8
Usually, Týr didn’t give a shit about the gawking that came his way. But after the rough day he’d gone through, a burning twitch started in his gut, making him want to haul ass outside. Then Kira walked into the bar from the back corridor, her jacket in hand. A few curly strands of hair had escaped her single braid to frame her gorgeous face. Týr forgot the stares, forgot his annoyance, his entire focus now on her.
Except, her bright, ready smile and the natural spring to her step was nowhere in sight. Her features appeared drawn, and her posture brittle as if a touch might shatter her.
What the hell had happened?
Týr made tracks for her, but the damn crowd kept getting in his way. Before he reached her, an overweight drunk grabbed her around her waist and tumbled her onto his lap. “Where’s my drink, beautiful?”
In a blur, Týr moved and hauled Kira off. Anger, dark and violent, spilled free. He grabbed the fool by his shirt and dragged him to his feet. “Touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your hands. You get me?”
The sweating human paled, he nodded profusely. “S-sorry, man, was just havin’ a some fun—”
“Find your fucking fun elsewhere! Now, get the hell outta here.” Týr dropped the drunk.
A pin drop could be heard in the silent bar as the man lurched into tables. Glasses fell, and the din restarted.
Kira stood there, her face pale, her gaze following the asshole out. Týr slid a hand to her nape, making her look at him. “You okay?” he asked, struggling to pull his rage deep inside of him.
In spite of her nod, he didn’t think she was. He took her jacket and helped her put it on, then buttoned it before ushering her outside. The cold air did little to soothe his fury at the drunken scum touching her. “Ready to find Tomas?” he asked, trying for normal.
Another little nod, and still silent.
With a frowning sideways glance at her, Týr offered her his hand. As if a robot had taken over her body, Kira grasped his palm. Shit, something was really off. But knowing her, if he pushed, he’d get no answer. Before this night was over, he’d find out what the hell had happened.
He steered her into the alley behind the bar to start the search for the little love-struck runaway. But worry over Kira abraded his mind, even after her hand slipped from his again…
Two hours later, Týr skirted the reeking trash bags stashed against a grungy building downtown, slowing down in another alley. A few makeshift tarp shelters were pressed up against walls.
Kira stood unobtrusively at his side. “Another dead end.”
“Yeah. We’ll find him,” he reassured her. He didn’t like her out here in the backstreets, but so far, all was quiet…and so was she. “You okay there, Fluff?”
She nodded, slipping her hands into her pockets. Her lush mouth, usually spewing some aci
dic comeback or other at him by now, turned down at the corners. Whatever was troubling her, Týr was damn sure it wasn’t the missing boy.
Spying a fast-food vendor’s truck, he headed toward it. “Give me a second.”
She leaned against the vehicle, her attention on the traffic-choked street. Týr indicated what he wanted to the guy behind the counter. Candies obtained, he pushed them into his jacket pocket and found her watching him. A feminine eyebrow rose. “With the amount of sweets you consume, I’m surprised you have any teeth left.”
And there was his little tormentor.
“It’s my apology to Tomas when we find him. You know, for stepping on his turf,” he teased. Her lips quirked, and she rolled her eyes. His mouth twitched into a smile. His world felt right again. They were back in sync.
As they trawled deeper into another alley, Týr cut her a sidelong look. “Want to talk about what happened, what made you look like your world just shattered?”
Those usually brilliant hazel eyes dimmed a little. She shrugged. “I’m worried about Tomas. It’s been over two hours, and we haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.”
Truth. But not the one he wanted.
“The lad’s probably lived on the street his entire life. He undoubtedly knows every recess, every safe spot to disappear into.”
“Or the demons could have him,” she whispered, her gaze meeting his. Her distress hit Týr hard, cracking through the barriers he’d erected. Hell, he preferred her driving him crazy to this vulnerability.
Her trembling chin firmed. She pulled out her cell. Týr slid his clenched hands into his pants pockets and glanced to the busy nightclub farther up the backstreet so he wouldn’t do something stupid like hold her and beg her to give him a chance…and probably scare the shit outta her and send her screaming into the night.
A heavy sigh escaped her. “It’s eleven-thirty.”
“You have fifteen minutes, Kira, you know the deal. I want you out of here, soon,” he said, steel edging his tone to make his point clear.
Demoniis usually came out in droves at midnight, trolling for victims. Týr still had a demon informant to follow. He needed to find the scourge responsible for the abduction of these kids and expunge both him and the snitch.
“Wait, there is someone who might have information,” Kira piped out in sudden excitement. She slipped her cell back into her jacket, her gaze darting to the busy nightspot farther up. “C’mon.” She dashed up the alley toward Club Anarchy.
Dammit. A nightclub was the worst place to be nearing the hunting hour. Still, Týr followed her while scanning for demoniis.
As they neared the busy entrance, she slowed. “Darn, he’s not here…” She worried her lower lip with her teeth. The action had Týr reeling with a yearning to taste the mouth that had haunted him for a year—something he’d never wanted with anyone else. The damn Fates probably laughed their asses off at fucking with him with this growing need. Like he didn’t have enough shit going on in his life.
“Maybe he’s inside,” Kira said, clueless to the war raging within him. She glanced to the end of the chattering queue of partygoers in front of the entrance. “Man, it’ll take forever to get inside.”
“It won’t.”
Those unsettling hazel eyes flashed to him. Instead of explaining how easily he could get in being who he was, Týr put a hand on her lower back and led her past the demon bouncer, who avoided his gaze.
In the busy, gloomy corridor of the club, Týr hooked his finger into the back loop of her jeans, keeping her close. Of course, he’d far prefer slipping his hand into her back pocket—
A startled breath escaped her. “What are you doing?”
“So we don’t get separated. Or would you prefer my arm around you while we’re here?
That earned him a scowl, and it made him want to smile.
Inside the jam-packed place, with laser lights bouncing about like annoying insects, Týr paused on the landing. His lips tightened, recalling his desperation every time he came here after a night on patrol. So close to the edge, needing an escape from his shattering mind, in a willing female body to gain control—to drown out the eons-old taunting laughter in his head for a few minutes. A year later now, and it seemed like a lifetime ago when he’d been sinking into an abyss.
Inhaling a deep, soothing breath of flowers and sunshine, Týr kept Kira close to him, when she suddenly leaned over the railing, and appeared to be searching the lower level. Her tempting bottom pushed into his groin, aaand wouldn’t you know it, his damn dick stirred. Not like that fucker needed any encouragement when she was around.
“Týr, there!” Kira reached back and grabbed his arm attached her, pointing to some people near the low-lit bar on the other side of the dance floor. She had no clue what she was doing to him. Did she even realize that she’d touched him without him doing so first? Probably not, judging by the way she still held on to him.
He glanced to where she directed a finger. A tall, bronzed male built like a linebacker stood where she pointed. Tyr narrowed his eyes. His grip tightened on her jeans’ loop when she would have dashed off. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” She cast him a confused look. “Tagg’s a cop first, even if he does moonlights part-time as a bouncer.”
“I’m all the help you need,” he retorted. “How do you know the demon?”
“What?” Her brow creased.
The bastard may be half human, but that wasn’t important right then. Her safety was. “How do you know him, Kira?”
“What does that have to do with why—”
He pinned her with a hard look, a slow burn starting in his gut.
“Ugh.” She cut him a frustrated glower. “I met Tagg years ago at the gym where Echo used to work, okay? Stay here,” she ordered. “I know how you are about demons, and he probably knows it, too.”
“You can’t trust them.”
“Perhaps. But I can look out for myself.”
“You can’t even fight.”
“Why fight when I have you?” Smirking now, she pulled free of his hold and sashayed off.
Týr thrust his fists into his pants’ pockets, lips pressed into a tight line. Kira was too damn headstrong. If he denied her this, she’d dig in her heels and keep them in this damn place longer. Evil would start hunting soon. Ten minutes.
He remained on the landing, tracking her progress as she pushed her way through the masses to the bar. The bouncer stood off to the side, talking to someone, his attention occasionally shifting to the jam-packed dance floor where humans bumped and ground against each other.
As Kira reached the demon, Týr tuned out the deafening gothic-rock music and, using his heightened senses, homed in on their conversation.
“Tagg?”
“Kira.” A grin split the demon’s dark face. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Yeah, work, life. Been busy.” Týr could definitely hear the smile in her voice…something she never did with him. His fingers tightened on the railing. “Do you have a minute? Can we talk?”
“Sure thing.” The demon put a hand on her back and guided her to the side, away from the crowd. Týr ground down on his teeth so he wouldn’t stomp over and end this farce. But the burn in his gut amped up. It was the same sensation he got whenever he heard about her damn dates as blood thundered in his head. Jealousy, the uninvited bastard, had arrived with full luggage in tow.
“What’s up?” the demon enquired.
“The missing street children, you know anything about them?”
Tagg rubbed his mouth as if she’d hit him with a tough question. “You know I can’t discuss any case with a civilian, Kira.”
“Since you can’t discuss it, and I already know about it, obviously, it’s no secret—”
Someone bumped into Týr, breaking his concentration, and he missed what Kira said next. Teeth clenched in irritation, Týr cut the females gaping at him like he was some damn miracle a hard stare, which didn’t seem to discoura
ge them one bit. Their smiles became sultrier. One, in a low-cut green dress sauntered over.
“Leave,” he snapped before she even opened her mouth. He added coercion to his tone so she and the small crowd gathered there would get the hell away from him. He fucking hated this gawking crap.
In the past several months, nothing had filled the emptiness growing inside him—nothing. He glanced back at Kira and the demon. Except…her.
Climbing up the wrong tree there, man.
Probably. He scrubbed his jaw, ignoring the pain slithering along his face from the lesion. But the thought of another man with her had his gut in a knot. It was why he’d changed his mind about Nik guarding her. A few minutes verbally sparring with her made him feel more alive than he had his entire damn life.
He found Kira staring in his direction, then she looked away as Tagg leaned closer, blocking his view of her.
“I’ll keep an eye out for the boy,” the demon’s low voice drifted to Týr. “It’s all I can promise until he’s reported as a missing person.”
“So, you’re just going to sit around and wait until something happens to him?” she demanded. “No one’s going to bother reporting him when he’s a homeless boy, and you know it!”
“Hey-hey—” Tagg grasped her by her upper arms. “You know I will help where I can…” He ran his palms down her biceps and up again, stroking her in a manner that spoke of familiarity, something Týr could no longer stomach.
His thoughts snapped. He scaled over the railing, landing amid shocked gasps, scattering dancers like rodents. He strode across to Kira, refusing to put up with this any longer. Why the hell she thought this demon would be a good source of information, he had no damn clue.
“Let’s go.” Týr stopped at her side. “We’re done here.”
“I’m not.” Her irises flared an iridescent lime-green in the gloomy club. Her hair took on a dazzling shade of crimson beneath the flashing laser lights. The bouncer moved between them, his features stony, and his stance that of a bulldozer, one ready to mow Týr down. “Leave her alone.”
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