by Kyoko M
I frowned at my thought pattern. How did my mind get there? I hadn’t had sex in ten months. Why was I thinking about it now? It was just a carnal desire fueled by the testosterone in my human body. Like everything else, it could be controlled.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Excuse me. Do you mind if I cut in?”
I turned. I paled.
My estranged wife, Jordan, was standing there.
And she looked incredible.
Her chocolate silk dress was about three shades darker than her luscious brown skin and tied at the base of her neck like a halter top. Her matching heels, a modest couple of inches, drew attention to the long line of her leg exposed by the slit up one side. It stopped a few inches from her thigh, enticing without being tasteless. Her sable hair was elegantly curled in silken waves around her shoulders. It had grown a few inches since the last time I saw her. False diamonds winked at her throat and her ears. Long black gloves adorned her arms. She was, by all accounts, beautiful.
My date—for the life of me, I couldn’t remember her name—flushed pink. “Oh, not at all, my dear. Just make sure you return him to me by the end of the night.”
Jordan smiled, drawing attention to the coffee-colored lipstick she’d applied to those plump lips of hers. “I wouldn’t dream of hogging him for long. Thank you, dear.”
My date vacated the premises. I frowned at Jordan to cover my momentary gawking. “What are you doing here?”
She studied me, letting her eyes rake over my body from head to toe. “Hate the beard. Love the suit.”
I gritted my teeth. She was obtuse to the point of insanity sometimes. “You didn’t answer my question.”
She walked closer and her perfume hit my nostrils. Something light and sweet. Jasmine, perhaps. I ignored the thought as quickly as I could.
She caught my hand and wrapped it around her slim waist, resting her right hand on my shoulder. “It’s a ball, remember? We’re supposed to dance.”
I stifled my anger and obeyed, bringing her in as close as I could without overdoing it. We fell in step naturally with the people dancing around us. “Now will you answer my question?”
“Only if I get to go first,” Jordan said in that stubborn tone she had. Less than five minutes with this woman and I already wanted to pull my hair out.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “What are you looking for?”
“I don’t have to answer that. I don’t owe you anything.”
“I know you don’t, but what about your soldiers? You’ve been missing for a month, Michael. They were worried sick about you. Especially Gabriel.”
I couldn’t help wincing a little. “I was gathering intel. I couldn’t risk letting anyone know where I was or it might tip the demons off. Gabriel should have known that.”
“He did, but that’s not the point. He’s your brother. He’s family. He was scared you’d gotten hurt or captured. He can’t help himself.”
“He’ll get over it. Why are you here if he’s the one that’s worried?”
“I’m here for a mission, not for you,” she sneered, glaring up at me.
“Yeah,” I said, sliding my hand across the small of her back to bring her in closer. My fingertips didn’t brush skin. She’d managed to find a dress with a high back to avoid shocking people with her scars. “Because that’s not hard to believe.”
She stiffened against me. “Don’t go there. You’re not gonna like where it ends.”
“We’re way past discussing what I like, Jordan. So just answer the damn question already—why are you here?”
“Madison Withers.”
“Faust’s ex. What about her?”
“I think the demons are targeting her thinking they can find Faust.”
I shook my head. “They won’t bother. We’ve had her under observation for months and nothing turned up so we dropped the issue. He didn’t try to contact her and I doubt he’d do it now.”
“He would if he found out that the demons have retrieved several of the coins. He might be getting desperate. She has money, connections, and resources. He needs our help whether he thinks he does or not.”
“You’re wasting your time. You should be focusing on the coins, not Faust. If he doesn’t have enough sense to ask for the angels’ help, then there’s nothing more we can do for him.”
Jordan’s dark brown eyes narrowed. “I’d ask how you can be so cold-hearted, but I already know the answer to that question.”
Her words cut deep. I clenched my jaw, reminding myself to keep my voice low. “Yes, because we all know you’re the most compassionate person on the planet.”
Her nails dug into my shoulders. I felt her energy peeking outward from inside of her. It sent goosebumps flaring across my skin underneath the tux. If we hadn’t been in public, she might have slapped me. I was playing with fire.
“By the way,” I said, unable to stop myself now. “I still have your wedding ring.”
She met my eyes and didn’t flinch as she spoke. “I still have your virginity.”
Heat flooded up my neck. “Look, what do you want from me? If you want to try and find Faust, knock yourself out. Leave me out of it.”
“I would, but there’s something you should know.”
“And that is?”
“You’ve been set up.”
I eyed her. “By whom?”
“Belial paid me a visit. He slipped me an invitation, which means he might be here. We can’t risk him getting to Faust first.”
“I can handle myself. Is that all? I’ve got work to do, if you don’t mind.”
“No. I need you to do something.”
My mouth flew open to argue, but she continued. “Not for me, stupid. Belial told me he’s out for blood now. That probably means Faust will need all the help he can get. On the off chance that he’s here, I want you to help me find him. There’s a safe house in Montpelier we can bring him to if we find him. Can you take your head out of your ass long enough for that?”
With some difficulty, I pushed past my annoyance and considered her argument. On the one hand, I had my own mission. On the other, finding Faust could give us an advantage in retrieving the remainder of the coins. I had always been a “cut off the head of the snake” kind of guy, but it couldn’t hurt to put another win in the column for the angels. “As long as we do it my way, no questions asked. Satisfied?”
She aimed another venomous glare at me. “Not for ten months.”
That tore it. I couldn’t suppress myself any longer. The orchestra serenading us played their final notes. The music swelled around us, drowning out my heartbeat in my ears, drowning out my common decency, drowning out my sense of reason.
I dipped her, and then did the worst thing I could think of.
I kissed her.
She gasped into my mouth and I took the few seconds it afforded me to completely ravage her. I slipped my tongue past her lips. I crushed her lithe body against the hard muscles of mine, reminding her of what she’d lost. I kneaded the small of her back with my hands, sucking her bottom lip between my lips, tasting her sweet lipstick and the flavor of her beneath it. Lust burst forth from inside me in a dizzying rush. All those months of celibacy, all those nights suppressing my desires, came surging back. How had I done it? How had I gone this long without this gorgeous woman in my arms, in my bed?
I straightened up after what felt like eternity, finally releasing her mouth when I had taken enough from her. Jordan was breathless and trembling against me. I felt a smug sort of triumph until I looked at her face.
She was crying.
The true gravity of what I’d done hit me, but before I could react, she shoved me away and hurried off the dance floor. Several people whispered to each other. What the hell was wrong with me?
I started after her, intent on apologizing, when a man in a white suit and gold silk tie caught my attention from across the dance floor. He was olive-skinned with slicked back salt-and-pepper hair and a goatee. His features se
emed out of place—as if he were modeled after a Spartan warrior of some sort with his sharp angular nose and protruding forehead. He had a glass of white wine clutched in one huge hand, a hand wearing a gold ring with a gigantic ruby in the center. I remembered it well. There was a legend that he’d gathered the blood of a thousand dead angels on the battlefield in Heaven and made that ring.
Moloch.
Former angel of war.
Current archdemon who ordered his men to steal the Judas coins.
It finally hit me. A collaboration between archdemons. The rumor was that Belial had been disgraced, maybe even demoted from his former status. Moloch was next in line in Lucifer’s ranks. The order went that two archdemons stayed on earth and the other three remained down below. For the longest time, it was Belial and Mulciber on the surface. Moloch had stayed in Hell because he wanted to go to war with Heaven rather than corrupt God’s children. Lucifer disagreed, so he kept him down below. After Mulciber failed to release the Leviathan, she had been sent back to face the consequences. Now Moloch gave the orders and Belial followed them. Shit.
I switched targets and headed for him, but my date grabbed my arm, whirling me around.
“What was that all about?” she demanded. “Who was that girl? Why did you kiss her?”
“Not now, I have to—” I faced the direction I’d seen Moloch, but he was gone. Damn it. I had to get to Jordan and fast. He didn’t have the same hangups as Belial or Mulciber. Moloch was a soldier. He would not keep her alive out of spite or try to manipulate her. No. He would plunge one hand into her chest and rip out her heart without even blinking.
I swore under my breath and left my date where she huffed, darting through the crowd the way I’d seen Jordan go. She would have gone to the ladies’ room. Jordan hated to let anyone see her cry.
I reached the hallway to the restroom within minutes, searching desperately for her, but she wasn’t there. I caught the attention of the nearest woman—a forty-something blonde in a poofy navy gown.
“Excuse me, but did you see a black girl wearing a dark brown dress go in there just now?”
She blinked rapidly a couple times in surprise. “Yes, I believe so.”
“Damn it. Anyone else in there?”
“This is a large affair, darling. Of course there are.”
I glanced about the lobby, checking for security. None of them on this side of the building. If I moved quickly, I could get her before one of the women could sic them on me.
I shoved the door open and ignored the chorus of horrified gasps from the ladies who saw me. As predicted, they screamed that I was a pervert and scurried out past me.
“Jordan?” I called.
“Get out of the ladies’ bathroom, you asshole!” Her hoarse voice echoed. Fourth stall down.
I hurried over and slammed my fist against the grey door, making it shudder. “Jordan, listen to me, we have to find Faust and get out of here.”
“Find him yourself.”
I clenched my teeth in sheer frustration. “We don’t have time for this. There is an archdemon in that ballroom and he is seconds away from finding the archaeologist and getting the rest of the coins. Is that what you want?”
Silence. I could almost hear the fury wrestling with the sense of duty in her head. I knew for a fact that she still felt guilty about releasing the Leviathan. A thousand angels had died trying to stop it. Guilt had always been a huge motivator for Jordan, and as much as I hated manipulating her, I needed her to do the right thing at any cost.
The latch unlocked and she reappeared. Her eyes were a bit pink, but there was definite determination in her gaze.
“Fine,” she said. “Let’s go.”
She shoved past me, hard enough that I stumbled. I exhaled. “I’m sorry.”
“Go screw yourself,” she shot back. Great job, Michael. This will make everything so much easier.
I followed her outside of the bathroom and back into the main hall, narrowly avoiding the security guards. I’d have to keep an eye out or they’d nab me and throw me out on my ass. Luckily, the event was still packed and wouldn’t end for another couple of hours, when all the blue bloods had their fill of pâté and caviar. They probably wouldn’t have much luck finding me in this crowd.
“You saw Moloch?” Jordan asked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, but didn’t you say you knew this was a set up?”
“Yes,” I said when we reached the top of the winding marble staircase that overlooked the ballroom. “I think they’re using you to draw me out. They know you’re my only weakness.”
“That, and your incredible ego,” she muttered, searching the crowd with me. “Did you want them to find you?”
“Yes and no. I needed confirmation of who’s calling the shots. Now I can adjust my strategy of retaliation properly based on what Olivia told me.”
Her posture stiffened. She crossed her arms beneath her chest. Her push-up bra was doing a marvelous job of fulfilling its purpose. The urge to look down her dress crept up. I stifled it. Priorities, Michael.
“Who’s Olivia?”
I glanced at her, mildly annoyed. “Really?”
She didn’t reply. That same smug feeling from before wormed its way up my gut.
I allowed a smirk to touch my lips. “Olivia is the one who told me about the charity ball.”
“I see. Why didn’t she come as your date?”
Because she’s currently digesting in the stomachs of sixteen pigs, I thought, but didn’t share it out loud. I dabbled in being petty sometimes. The fact that she could get jealous was more than a little rewarding after all she’d put me through.
“She got tied up.”
Jordan glared, then returned her furious gaze to the people below us. “Ass.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Bite me.”
“I thought I did that already.”
She ignored me and pointed, drawing my attention to the dining table towards the left side of the room. “There’s Madison.”
We walked downstairs to the main dining area and weaved through to the table. There was an old couple whom I’d seen in Forbes magazine at least once, laughing and sharing a glass of champagne. Madison sat next to them, eating her salmon and wild rice in peace, occasionally sipping white wine. She was the same as in her photos—mid-thirties, cropped light brown hair, freckles, silver wire-frame glasses. Her forest-green gown was long and sensible and the diamonds in her ears were real. She’d come from money, according to her profile, and it showed.
“Excuse me,” Jordan said once we were in earshot. “But can we have a quick word with you, Ms. Withers?”
Her brown eyes flicked between the two of us. She wiped her mouth with the linen napkin and stood up, politely curious. “And who might you be?”
“Jordan Amador,” she said, offering her hand. Madison shook it once.
“Michael O’Brien,” I said, also shaking her hand. I then gestured away from the table. “Do you mind? It’s a bit of a sensitive matter.”
“Very well.”
The three of us retreated towards one of the eight-foot windows along the far left wall, out of the range of any partygoers. I stayed behind Jordan to keep an eye out for Moloch or Belial. Things wouldn’t stay quiet for long. They never did.
“We wanted to know if David Faust tried to contact you recently.”
Madison’s spine stiffened. Her entire expression shut down—eyes dead, brow flattened, lips pressed in a thin line. I’d gotten better impressions from uncarved slabs of marble. “Why on earth would you ask me that? Is he in some sort of trouble?”
“We think so,” Jordan continued in her gentlest voice. “We really want to help him, but we need to know where he is.”
“I don’t see a badge clipped on that dress anywhere. Are you police officers?”
“No.”
“Then you have no right to interrogate me. I have not spoken to David since we separated. If you’ll excuse m
e, my salmon’s getting cold.”
She stalked back to the table without another word.
Jordan sighed. “That went well.”
“See?” I said. “Nothing. Now can you get the hell out of here before Moloch finds you and rips you in half like a baguette?”
She turned to me, scowling. “What’s the matter, Commander? Have you forgotten how to read people after all these centuries?”
“Pardon?”
“She’s lying, stupid. She knows exactly where he is.”
I frowned. “How the hell do you know that?”
“Because that’s what my face looks like when people ask me about you.”
I opened my mouth to ask what that meant, but she cut me off. “We should hang back and follow her. I bet you a nickel she’ll go warn him after she leaves here.”
“I’ll take that bet,” I muttered, accepting a champagne flute offered to me by a passing waiter. Had to blend in, after all.
Madison finished her meal, bid her table mates goodbye, and then weaved her way back towards the exit. Jordan and I split up to be less conspicuous and tailed her. She caught a cab outside and took it to an apartment complex on the rougher side of the city, closer to east Harlem. Finally, I began to see that Jordan might have had a point. A woman like her would have no reason to be in a place like this, especially at night. Something was up.
To her credit, she checked behind her everywhere she went and switched cabs twice, but she was no Batman. Jordan and I spent a lot of time staying out of sight with our respective jobs. We were pretty damn good at tailing people.
The apartment building Madison ducked into had a rickety old elevator with a gate in the lobby. It stopped at every floor on the way up, meaning that she’d been smart enough to hit as many buttons as possible to throw us off. It rose all the way to the top and then started back down. Someone else had gotten on. We’d lost the trail, at least temporarily.
“I’d love a suggestion right now,” Jordan said, leaning against the flaking flowery wallpaper next to the elevator. “Or do you really want that nickel so bad?”
“Just wait,” I said in a mild voice, mirroring her, but on the opposite side of the small lobby. Less than five minutes later, the elevator pinged and a group of black guys in their late teens exited, laughing and talking with each other.