Demon Fire (The Angel Fire Book 3)

by Marie Johnston

  “As many as she clears you to take,” Sierra amended.

  His scowl was back, but he was oddly protective about the baby. “Use the bathroom.”

  She stopped at the first one, pushed the door open, and wrinkled her nose. It wasn’t a disaster but it smelled like ten teenage girls had gone wild with stolen perfume. She went into the second bathroom, the one she’d intended to use in the first place, and shut the door.

  First, she stood in place and scanned the area for hidden cameras. It appeared safe. She checked the towel dispenser disguised as modern artwork. The exposed brick that was fake around the sink and toilet area. Nothing.

  She squatted and felt under the sink counter. Nothing. Then she crawled on top of the sink and felt along the line of trendy lights housed in cages like the ones on the dance floor. Dust rained down on her, but she felt around until her hands touched a cool object stuffed in the corner. Her heart raced as she took it down and got off the counter.

  She used the toilet like she’d claimed she needed to. After she finished, she washed her hands and used the towels to wipe up the dust and footprints from the counter.

  Stuffing the phone in her underwear, she prayed it’d stay in place for two laps around the club. The hardest part was opening the door and keeping the grin off her face. Phase two of the plan was complete.

  She whipped open the door and gasped. A paunchy man glared at her. It took her a moment to step back and see the sneering face of a female demon.

  “Fallen,” the host spat. “What took you so long in there?”

  “Andy,” Sierra hollered out the door. She hadn’t prepared for this. Her alarm was real. “Can you call off your dogs?”

  The host’s lips curled and he lunged. Sierra braced herself and kicked him in the gut, throwing all of her weight behind the move. The demon wasn’t expecting it and doubled over, wheezing. Fury blazed from her black eyes, visible behind the host’s hazel irises. She recovered too quickly for Sierra’s comfort.

  As the demon pulled an arm back to punch her, Andy’s voice rang out. “Zanda, I will drench you in angel fire if you touch her.”

  Sierra would’ve ducked in time and kicked the feet out from under the human, but she’d rather keep the demon underestimating her.

  The female demon’s expression rippled with disgust. She hated following Andy’s orders.

  “Gerzon,” Andy snapped.

  “Zanda, back off,” another man’s voice said. Shit. Two demons were here.

  Zanda shuffled aside from the door, the host’s lips drawn back like the demon would bite her any second. Sierra stood her ground. She didn’t trust the female behind her. “You first.”

  “Zanda.” The warning in the new male’s voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The second demon had power. It rumbled through the host’s words. “Touch her. And die.”

  That . . . was unexpected. Was her blood that precious?

  She strode out. The second man leaned against the bar, but when she got closer, he pushed off. Under the host’s face, he was an ugly fucker. His eyes were a murky blue and his horns were crooked. His purple-tinged, mottled skin looked like he’d taken the face off a two-week-old corpse. Zanda had a brutal beauty that wasn’t often seen in the underworld. But this guy was typical gross demon. She had a sense the host was taller than the demon and wondered if the demon had chosen that trait on purpose.

  Both of the hosts were familiar. They’d been in the club, but they hadn’t been possessed. She distinctly remembered them because they loved the young girls. Alcohol flowed freely, they flashed their bloody barbed tattoos, and the girls fell for it. Add more alcohol and the men took advantage. It was disgusting.

  Sierra had watched it all and seethed. Never had she regretted falling more than when she watched the club thriving. She could’ve helped put a stop to it. Her own personal shame was the reason she’d excelled at being “the tech guy.” It was the area she could outshine the rest by being the best.

  Now all she could do was rely on a smuggled phone to send a few messages.

  “That’s her,” Andy said. She didn’t trust the warmth in his voice. The demon watched her, the host’s lips tilted up, a wondrous look in his eyes. An oily shiver traced down her back.

  She changed course for the elevators. “I’m going to go ahead and skip the extra laps.”

  “In time, Sierra,” the male demon said.

  She went to the elevator and punched the button. When she got in and the doors closed, she memorized everything possible. It was all going in the message.

  The spot where her wings used to be ached.

  The way that demon had looked at her. He had plans and she was in the middle of them. Something big was going to happen, and she had to get out of here before it did. Had she gotten to the phone in time?

  Boone waited in a dark alcove blocks away from Fall From Grace. He made it look like he was having an argument on the phone, his back half turned to the street. The hardware store he was in front of had closed hours ago.

  Urban spoke over the line. “Harlowe’s in place, on top of the third building down. I can see you from where I’m at.”

  Boone shoved a hand in his pocket and turned, leaning his back against the glass front of the store. He saw nothing but a dark, empty street and wide buildings spread out around him. Urban was nowhere in sight.

  “You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” Urban answered his unspoken question of Where the hell are you? “Jagger and Bronx are in place. Dionna’s in the van three blocks north of the club. Call her for an emergency extraction.”

  Because Boone and Sierra couldn’t find a quiet corner to vanish.

  Unease prickled through Boone. He had a bad feeling about tonight. The bartender had started asking pointed questions. Kinsey, the redhead who found him half the time he went to the club, was getting pushier, and he just wanted Sierra out and done. If he had to stand to keep Kinsey from climbing into his lap, he would, but even the bartender had been questioning why Boone wasn’t taking advantage of what she offered.

  “But, Boone.” The warning in Urban’s tone was enough. “If she doesn’t come willingly, this is it. There are too many humans around. We can’t risk putting them in danger.”

  “She doesn’t even know we’re extracting her tonight.”

  She’d sent them information. How many guards Andy had, when they worked, where she’d seen them stationed. The third floor seemed off-limits and she’d been allowed to take walks each day on the main floor. The time varied but it had to be done before the cleaning crew came.

  Andy used the back entrance to come and go, which the warriors had already noted. They couldn’t get close to spy on the club, but they didn’t have to be close.

  Sierra had also said that everyone thought Jameson was still alive, but that Andy planned to stage a spectacular death. Andy would no doubt want a death befitting Jameson and one that would secure his mysterious legacy, but the reason for the wait wasn’t yet clear.

  She sent descriptions of the layout that confirmed it was the same as when Harlowe had gotten into the building last time. Andy’s routine was the hardest to pin down, but he seemed to be in-house when the club was open. And often during the day. Did the man sleep on the third floor?

  But the most concerning was her message from yesterday. Not only had demon activity been increasing, as had Andy’s pressure to get her blood, but he was actively working with demons. Plotting with them. And she suspected it had to do with her blood. Like they knew what Sandeen knew.

  Andy might be helping demons roam the earth.

  She’d put him off about the blood, but the midwife’s visit was tomorrow. With two particular demons showing every night that kept staring at her like they knew what her future held, she was getting nervous.

  Boone was more than nervous. He was frantic. He’d worked long operations, but this was going on too long. Each week that ticked by increased the risk to the baby if they made a move. She’d give
n them enough info about human and demon activity to extract her while minimizing human injury, which was the main concern for the warriors. The proof they needed to convince the senate Andy should be terminated would have to wait. They had to get Sierra out, whether she wanted to give up the mission or not.

  They couldn’t get into the club during the day without a fight, and all the customers were screened for weapons, so it was best to get in like normal and get Sierra out from there by neutralizing the guards. The farther Boone could get in, the better.

  Urban sighed. “I’m just saying . . . we’re going to do what we can to get her out of there and deal with Andy. But you can see how it’s so convenient that she didn’t tell us much of what we didn’t already know.”

  “And she had almost zero to go on when she went in there.” He didn’t have to pretend to have an argument on the phone for any onlookers. “All you knew was that Jameson did business in a conference room. She used the fuck out of that little tidbit just from standing in the window only when he was in that room. We know he’s in the office every night the club is open. We know he works with demons by name. He’s not fooled by a possessed host.”

  Meanwhile, Boone’s main assignment was to go to the bathroom and hide a phone. He’d never felt so damn powerless, going to sleep each night surrounded by warriors while Sierra slept surrounded by the enemy. He’d only had a taste of what Phoebe had gone through. Lingering resentment toward his wife had faded completely in the last few weeks.

  He’d had to make sure the operation tonight was extracting Sierra because it needed to be done, and not just because he wanted her out and away from those demons. But it was true. Sierra and the baby’s safety came first and they were more at risk than ever. He and the warriors had come up with a plan. The angels would take the roof. Boone would ask about a job, fast-talk his way to the second floor, and they’d converge on Andy. Between Boone and the angels, they knew to use nonlethal force on the guards.

  Since the senate had refused to sanction a kill order on Andy, Boone planned to use nonlethal force on everyone—but Andy.

  Boone was no angel.

  He hung up. They all knew their roles. If Urban didn’t trust him or Sierra, that was the warrior’s problem.

  Boone got on his bike, cranked it to life, and sped away. He didn’t care where he parked; he didn’t plan on leaving on his bike tonight. He wouldn’t be leaving alone, either.

  The same bouncer that had first let him into the club was working the door. He lifted his chin toward Boone and cocked his head to the entrance. Boone was getting in right away again. He might not put out, but the ladies liked to look at him.

  He stopped by the big guy. “Your boss looking for help?”

  “Dunno. Could ask.” The bouncer didn’t give away more than that. Did they get asked a lot?

  “Thanks, man.” Boone pushed through the entrance and all the way to the bar. He’d gotten used to the noise, but he hated the music.

  Kinsey twirled through the dance floor right to him. She had her hands high in the air, her ass swaying. “Jack-jack.” She giggled like it was cute.

  For fuck’s sake. His nerves didn’t need her on top of everything else tonight.

  She bit her lip and feathered her fingers over her bare collarbone. Each night, she wore the same style of dress.

  “Wanna dance?” She leaned so far in to ask, her minty breath wafted over his cheek.

  He leaned to the side. “No, thanks.” Her hand caught his attention. Under the lights, he made out a faint tan line. “You married, or just divorced?”

  Her sexy façade drained and her lips formed a line as hard as steel. “I’ve been out almost every night of the week for the last two months and he hasn’t even noticed.”

  Still married, then. “Why don’t you talk to him?”

  “I shouldn’t have to. His only interest is in making money. If I ask him to talk, all I get is ‘I have to work’ and flowers the next day.”

  He rubbed the spot between his brows. “Jesus, Kinsey. Men are stupid. Make him fucking listen—but not because you’ve fucked some sad sack in a club, popped a shitload of pills, or told his competitors all his best secrets. If you suck up some pride first, it might save you a lot of hurt.”

  Emotions rippled over her face. Pain, fury, consideration, more pain. He didn’t know her or her husband, but fuck, he’d seen one outcome of this game. This club would make sure of it, but if she’d been clinging to him and his rebuffs, then she must want her husband more than a wild fling.

  “F-fuck you.” She stormed off.

  Good. One problem taken care of.

  A whiskey sour was slid in front of him. “You lost your chance.” The bartender wiped a spot that was already gleaming. “Sounds like you and her husband have something in common.”

  “Once upon a time,” he agreed and bypassed his standard sip for a big gulp.

  “I’ll get that second drink ready, then.” The bartender chuckled and went to fill another order.

  Boone slowed down on his whiskey sour and watched the clientele. Could he tell if there were more demons present than the other nights?

  Soul-cringing sexual activity still took place in the booths. Dancers continued to gyrate. But instead of one person in the cage, two or more were crowded in and—he had to look away. There was more bare skin than usual. The bouncers were on high alert, but Sierra had said she’d never seen them possessed.

  So, yeah, there must be an increase.

  He scanned the entrance and exits. Nothing unusual. A scowl dropped his brows as one of the bouncers manning the door led two middle-aged men toward the elevators.

  He’d never seen others go to the second floor during his nights here. Was that common? Sierra hadn’t said Andy held meetings during the day. Were these the hosts she’d run into earlier?

  Minutes ticked by. Kinsey didn’t come back and Boone nursed his second drink. Movement at the window caught his attention. Finally.

  Sierra’s arms were crossed and she stood in the far corner, closer to where he figured her living quarters were. He hadn’t seen her clearly for over a month, and he wanted to ask questions that she didn’t answer in her messages. Was she sleeping well? Had she felt the baby kick yet? Was the midwife decent?

  He didn’t want to take his eyes off her, but he had to notify the rest of the team she was visible. The plan was to call with a simple phrase that wouldn’t sound odd to anyone who overheard. He could send a message, but the people here were nosy, including the bartender.

  As he put the phone to his ear, the bartender appeared. “Hey, Joel said you asked about a job.”

  Urban hadn’t answered yet. Boone nodded, wishing the bartender had waited two minutes. It rang again.

  “Boss can’t meet with you tonight, but leave your information—”

  “Yeah,” Urban answered.

  Boone nodded at the bartender but spoke quietly into the phone. “It’s pretty busy tonight.”

  “Got it. We’re moving in.”

  Boone was about to hang up when the bartender’s gaze lifted to the window and his forehead crinkled. Boone shot up, wrongness vibrating along every nerve of is body. The view at the window chilled him down to his bones. The two men from the elevator were dragging Sierra away from the window. He couldn’t hear a thing, but her mouth was moving and she struggled as much as she could without hurting herself or her precious cargo.

  “They’ve got her,” Boone said into the phone and shot across the bar, pushing men and women out of his way. “Fuck, they’re grabbing her.”

  Chapter 18

  Boone clutched the phone as he dove for the stairwell. He didn’t bother to check if the bouncers were on his heels, or how close they were. He didn’t care. He smashed the phone against the wall as he took the stairs two, sometimes three, at a time.

  The door a level above him banged open, but he didn’t look up. It had to be the angels, but Boone wasn’t waiting for them.

  Pushing out the do
or to the second floor, he ran into another large bouncer. The man bared his teeth and flashed a gun. But the man was poorly trained.

  Boone batted his hand away, spun, and elbowed him in the gut, using the breath whooshing out of the man to disarm him. He rammed his elbow down on the back of the bouncer’s neck. The bouncer fell, limp. He’d come around eventually, but Boone was done with him.

  Boone checked over the gun as he spun. A fully loaded Glock. Damn. He wanted to trash it. There were too many people around to risk a stray bullet, but he also couldn’t risk it being aimed at Sierra.

  Someone burst through the door and he raised the gun, both hands to steady himself, his elbows tight to his body, sights centered on her—Harlowe. As instincts he’d hoped to never use again relaxed, he lowered the weapon.

  Sounds of a fight pounded through the door behind her. There was a melee in the stairwell.

  “Urban and Bronx will hold them off,” she said.

  He spun and ran in the direction Sierra was getting dragged. A door hung open. This wasn’t where she’d described the conference room to be. It must be the penthouse. He pulled alongside the frame and peered inside, the gun a familiar and unwanted weight in his hand. All he saw was a suite as fancy as a luxury hotel.

  He swallowed hard and concentrated on his training. What if the gun was taken from him and used on not only him, but on Sierra? What if the baby got hurt because of this damn gun?

  Sierra’s voice came from another direction. “You said you’d wait.”

  Low laughter rumbled from the same area. The conference room she’d said was down a short hallway.

  He was about to tell Harlowe the penthouse looked empty, but a female dressed in a black suit rushed the angel. Another bouncer. The woman pulled a sidearm out from inside her jacket and aimed it at the warrior.

  Boone ducked back into the penthouse. Harlowe dropped to a crouch as shots rang out, echoing off all the walls. The angel swung her leg around and tripped the human. The gun clattered out of her hand. Boone dove for it while Harlowe dealt with the bouncer.