Wicked Fire: Angel Fire, book 2

by Johnston, Marie

  Up ahead, his home called to him. A place he hadn’t spent much time in lately, thanks to the passed-out female in his arms. Even before Felicia had swooped back into his life, he’d been loath to linger under his own roof. Too many hard feelings. Valerina’s accusations. Watching her move out, helpless to stop her. Wondering why she wouldn’t believe him over lurid rumors.

  He tried not to think about it as he made his way home, looking, listening, and feeling for any prying eyes. No one. His home was dark. Skirting the shadows to his back door, he focused his energy on opening the door. It swung open without a sound. The angels he’d hired to care for the building were earning their keep. Thankfully, they had their own homes to go to after work.

  He carried the angel in his arms to the guest bedroom next to his. The room was bare and expressionless, just as he had been when he’d stayed here after Valerina had walked out. The rest of the rooms were in her taste, but like his mother, she hadn’t encouraged guests to stay for anything longer than a dinner party, and it showed in the attention this room had gotten.

  He laid Felicia down on top of the covers. Though she was a tall female, he hadn’t minded carrying her so far. The loss of her heat against him was far too disconcerting. He attempted to summon his anger, remembering how she’d given him a patronizing smile and denied his request to set the record straight about them. She’d had a reputation around the barracks, though he’d grudgingly admit he’d wondered why her behavior was being called out. He’d use up all his fingers and toes naming males who liked to sleep with a multitude of partners.

  Why had she started the rumor about them? She’d come on to him and he’d turned her down. Had it angered her that much? He’d kept his distance out of respect for Valerina. He’d had no reason to talk to Felicia, so he hadn’t except to say, thanks, but no.

  She’d ruined his life. All he’d had was his work to get him through the gossip storm. He’d lost sleep wondering when everyone would remember he was the son of a fallen. But if his kind were good at one thing, it was forgetting those who fell. Their existence was as close to erased as possible, their punishment meant to finish the job without the moral ambiguity of execution.

  But he hadn’t forgotten.

  He wiped a hand over his face and sank into a settee next to the bed. His clothing was crusted with blood and other demon body fluids. The fabric was probably ruined, unless his housekeeper could save it. Worries for another day.

  He had an unconscious angel and a lot of questions.

  * * *

  Felicia woke with a start. She propped herself on her elbow. A barren wall greeted her. Light filtered in behind hand-sewn drapes. Her mother had once bought a similar set for her and Ode’s rooms. They’d been ruined in the fire.

  Where was she?

  She twisted around. Two things dawned on her and each one increased the pounding in her head. Her wings were out and Jagger was watching her.

  The demon fight flared bright in her brain. She hadn’t let her wings out and it’d left her vulnerable. She must’ve been knocked out. Her clothing cracked as she moved into a sitting position onto the comfy bed. Her face felt dried and crusty. Her wound must’ve bled.

  Jagger had fared better. None of the bloody remnants on him were his own. He was an amazing fighter. All that coiled energy and unleashed resentment had been aimed at the demon.

  It was dead. She didn’t have to ask. And she had more pressing issues.

  Jagger clasped his hands across his toned stomach. “Wanna tell me about it?”

  He wasn’t wasting time.

  Her lungs deflated like a month-old party balloon. She held her breath for a beat of three and slowly inhaled. It was time he knew. Protecting her was one thing, but they were going to be in more danger if he didn’t know what he was up against—or what her limitations were.

  “I was attacked when I was fifteen. They went after both me and Ode one night, in our own house. They tortured me and told me to keep quiet to protect her. And they told her to keep quiet to protect me. She was younger, so they only hurt me.”

  Shock registered on his face. He hadn’t expected her to talk. He might’ve concluded something atrocious had happened, but not this level of depravity.

  “So, yeah. Right before you were ordered to shadow me, my father confessed that he had been ordered to interfere with Bryant’s team. At the time, they’d been onto some demons who could be linked to corrupt senators. When Father refused, they sent two thugs to our house in the middle of the night.”

  “That’s…”

  “Fucked up? Yeah.” The rest of the story spilled out, and telling it was as much of a relief as not having to morph her wings. “Father did the big bad. Bryant was severely injured and members of his team died. My parents tried to do their best for us, then sent me to a boarding school, which I left in no time.” She pointed to her back. “It’s too painful to hold a morph for that long, especially as tender as they were then. And you can imagine the questions my classmates had about why I would morph them anyway. Flash forward, and the corrupt senators are making headway with the help of your father, and Ode stumbles onto the plot. She’s in danger and I’m in danger and Bryant’s team is once again dragged into it.” She spread her hands. “There you have it.”

  His expression hadn’t changed, but she could see his mind working. Those eyes of his were sharp as he connected dot after dot. She didn’t need to explain why she avoided her home, the realm, and basically all of Numen. She didn’t need to rehash Mother’s suicide or Father’s grisly death.

  He still hadn’t spoken. She couldn’t stand the reason for his silence. Pity. “This your place?”

  His mouth quirked. “You have reportedly seen the inside.”

  Had he quit blaming her? “I never said I had.”

  “Hmph.”

  “Still don’t believe me? News flash. I really don’t care.” The lie tasted sour. How could he live with her for so many weeks and still think she would do something like that? How could he hear the most terrible moment of her life and think she was still a liar?

  He cut a hand through the air. “It no longer matters, does it? We have a more pressing situation.”

  What he thought mattered to her. She wouldn’t destroy another’s life. Lusting after him didn’t mean she’d spread horrible lies to get his fiancée to dump him.

  He unfolded his body, the power in him so at odds with the delicate grace of the furniture he’d been perched on. “There’s a bathroom down the hall. I’ll notify Odessa and Director Vale that you’re here before I clean up. Perhaps your sister can bring you some clothing.”

  “Does anyone know that we’re here?”

  “Not yet.”

  Her apartment in Atlanta was her safe spot. She knew the city, her neighbors, and what was out of the ordinary. This was Numen, where she was exposed and vulnerable. Where she was at a disadvantage because of her useless wings.

  “You’re safe here.” Had her expression revealed her insecurity? “If you’d like, I can wait until you’re done washing up before I shower.”

  She liked the sound of that but would never say so. “I might as well wait for Ode and a new set of clothing. Tell her no robes.” He dipped his head and was walking out when she made another request. “Don’t tell them. About my wings.”

  He looked at her over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. Argh! She hated being needy around him. “Don’t they know?”

  “They do, but they haven’t seen…” Her wings were tucked as far behind her back as she could get them to keep Jagger from getting a good view, even though he’d already seen. She hid them from everyone.

  “We’ll wait until they arrive and both clean up at the same time.”

  “You can go shower.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  She crossed one leg over the other. “Seriously. You don’t have to.”

  “It’s my job.”

  His job that he was suddenly performing 100 percent. The thought was
catty. He’d always been at the ready, just hating every minute of it. The only thing that had changed was that now he blamed her less, for the demon attack at least. Though he still seemed to think she liked telling everyone that she slept with people she hadn’t.

  Okay, so she’d done that with her sister’s last boyfriend. She’d alluded to sleeping with him, though she hadn’t and never argued otherwise. But the male had been a tool, a philanderer. And Ode would’ve hung on to the bitter end if she hadn’t seen him in bed with another with her own eyes. A noble sacrifice, but one that had cost her her sister until their recent reconciliation.

  He stepped out to contact Bryant. Grateful he embraced the use of human technology in Numen, she hastily morphed her wings. The pinch of warped muscle and the stretching of ravaged skin made her wince. The gasp couldn’t be helped. It was a rush job.

  He was in the doorway. Damn. He must’ve rounded the corner when her eyes were squeezed shut.

  “I’ve already seen them,” he said. He was looking down on her but for once waves of superiority weren’t rolling off him.

  “And you don’t have to keep seeing them.”

  The look he gave her was odd, like she had transformed into another person. But then, as if he sensed her emotional fragility, he did the unexpected and made a joke. “Felicia Montclaire, shy? I never would’ve thought.”

  She gave him the middle finger, but his comment coaxed a small smile.

  He chuckled. “I’m surprised you don’t turn to ash, making that gesture up here.”

  “The angels here have done worse.”

  His smile faded. “I know.”

  “Sorry. Buzzkill. But I think they forget we aren’t divine.”

  The corner of his mouth kicked up. The male had lush lips. “That will make you turn to ash.”

  Her own smile grew. “I can wander around, whispering in the wind. Really mess people up.”

  A monotone ding rang through the house.

  “Oh dear God,” she muttered. She wasn’t ready to face anyone. Jagger was hard enough.

  If this was her first conscious hour in Numen, how was she going to tolerate living up here again?

  Chapter 8

  Someone was in her house.

  Sierra crept out of her office and down the hallway, wishing she’d thrown on more than shorts and a tank top. She’d done a quick morph of her wings when she’d sensed the presence. Odd how she still abided by the laws of her land in such small things. After the enormity of her betrayal to her kind—even worse, to her team—a human catching sight of her wings would be nothing in comparison.

  After all, a male’s life had been destroyed because of her deception. Because she was a fucking coward, an outcast who couldn’t reveal her heritage to anyone.

  Emerging from the short hallway, she clutched the small knife she’d grabbed from her dresser. Her grip didn’t loosen when she saw who waited for her.

  Stede.

  “What do you want?” Jameson had been right. Stede finding her had only been a matter of time. Had she been so naïve to think that he couldn’t find her new place in Las Vegas? Director Vale had ordered her to move closer to Jameson once he’d settled into his new position. She was their eyes and ears—and it would end up costing them if both Jameson and Stede could hunt her down this easily. How had they each done it?

  The male reclined on her thrift store upholstered chair, looking like any other human businessman wearing black slacks and a red button-up shirt. The mild attire didn’t hide the darkness in his gaze or the natural cruelty that stained his brown eyes.

  Her sharp words prompted a faint smile. “Since we work so excellently together, I thought I’d stop by. I have another favor to ask.” His expression went hard. “Where is he?”

  She knew who he was talking about. Dionna had briefed her and ordered her to check on the Washington family, then clear all of Felicia’s history in Atlanta. There was no going back for Felicia. At least she had places to go. Sierra was stuck.

  “He’s back in Numen.”

  Stede paused as if studying her reaction, so she made sure there wasn’t one. He nodded like he’d known all along. “Yes, I thought so. They’d be too afraid of drawing demons to them and hurting humans.” He sneered like it was such a weakness. “Where in Numen?”

  She gave him a bored look, but a thrill swirled inside. Jameson had known this male would go after his son—and it had upset him. Was that the key to nailing Jameson? “It’s not like there’s a wealth of safe houses there. Figure it out.”

  She deliberately stayed loose when she only wanted to go rigid at his reaction. He’d done nothing but lob a few well-targeted threats her way, but danger and volatility emanated off him.

  Displeasure rippled across his face, but then he adopted a satisfied look. “Once again, you’re a wealth of information. He’s at his home.”

  “I’m not helping you again.” Her old director had lost his legs because of her—because of who she was. If she’d known what a liability to her team she’d be, she would’ve hidden in some remote desert on Earth. Instead, she’d yearned to be by her sister, even if Harlowe had no clue about their relationship and would probably spurn her with the rest of the realm if she did.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You will. If I deem it necessary, you will.” Rising, he straightened his cuff links.

  She stayed where she was. “Jameson Haddock know that you’re after his son?”

  Despite his placid gaze, the air between them dropped a few degrees. “Julian Hancock is his weakness. I’m just keeping eyes on the boy.”

  Boy? Julian was older than she was. “And Felicia?”

  His left eye twitched. Interesting. “She was a loose end, but Senator Kenton made that a moot point.”

  Uh-huh. Then Felicia’s student’s demon issue was a way to get at Jagger through her. “How is the good senator?”

  “Ordering whores left and right.”

  Surprised he’d given her that much, she wanted to ask more. She had a feeling he’d feel no ill will if Kenton were to suddenly lose his head or fall into a vat of angel fire, but Kenton would probably blubber like a three-year-old with a secret—spilling everything with a little pressure.

  “Stay in touch, Sierra. I need you accessible to me.” His eyes turned cold, all humanity been sucked from them. “And don’t even think about finding a way to clue Haddock into my interest with his kid. I’ll destroy you with a few well-placed messages. And your sister just for fun.” He turned and walked out.

  She didn’t reply, just glared at his broad back as he left. If there were any way she could get back at the bastard, she’d take it. But good fortune wasn’t in her genes and she had a call to make.

  * * *

  “I can’t what?” Felicia couldn’t believe what Bryant was telling her. The rest of Jagger’s team, with the exception of Harlowe, watched her with varying degrees of sympathy, and that made it worse. She was looked at with derision or superiority, but not pity. Odessa grabbed her hand. It anchored her to the obnoxious backless sofa in the formal sitting area of Jagger’s home. “What do you mean I can’t go back to Atlanta?”

  “Sierra’s arranging the sale of your apartment and will move your stuff into storage.”

  “So strangers are going to go through my things?” She’d rather it be anonymous humans than anyone she knew, but still. Logically, she knew it had to happen. The news was sudden and didn’t hurt any less. She’d made a comfortable home in Atlanta. When this mess was done, she’d make a home elsewhere—just not Numen.

  “Your work, everything. Taken care of,” Bryant said and his tone meant it was final. He turned his gaze on Jagger. “And we have news for you as well.”

  Jagger leaned against the far wall, where he had a good viewpoint out the window. “I hope it’s not a bad as telling me that my existence on Earth has been wiped out.”

  Odessa tightened her grip on Felicia’s hand as Bryant answered. “Your mother was attacked in her home.”
/>   “What?” He pushed off the wall.

  “She wasn’t harmed. A sentry was at her house and saved her, injuring the attacker.”

  Fury played over Jagger’s face. “Good, or I’d do it myself.” He looked around but didn’t meet the gaze of his team until he glanced back at Bryant. “Who was the sentry? Why was he at her house? Was his story checked out?”

  Bronx coughed and tried to cover it up. Jagger shot him a glare. Bronx lifted his brows toward Bryant.

  “It’s our understanding that they’re seeing each other. Mateo Armstrong.”

  Felicia kept her jaw from dropping, but she didn’t know how. Mateo was Jagger’s age, but that wasn’t the surprising part. Chanel Hancock had taken a lover, and then admitted it?

  The same incomprehension passed through his hard features. Denial lit his eyes and he shook his head, but his look softened. “But you checked his story out?”

  Bryant inclined his head. “They’ve been seeing each other for a while, but he’s reportedly staying with her now. I think that if he were a threat, he would’ve acted on it by now. I believe…” The director sucked in a breath. “I believe he truly cares for her.”

  “The poor bastard.” Jagger went back to his post by the wall. “So now what? She’s under protection.”

  “Since your mother is a target, I have to assume you are as well. We don’t know if it’s your father or his accomplices trying to double cross him. You’ll need extra protection here to be sure.” Bryant gestured to Dionna and Bronx on the far side of the room, then to the entry where Harlowe stood post, and to the window where Urban patrolled outside. “Dionna has set up a schedule. You’ll have at least one other teammate here at all times.”

  Felicia bristled. More bodies around her. She’d gone from a relatively solitary lifestyle to having security and a bodyguard. Only now her bodyguard needed a bodyguard.

  But she got over herself when she saw the conflict raging in Jagger’s eyes. Someone was after his mother and that was bad enough, but it might be his father. What a mind fuck. Even as an adult, it would be hard to take.