Devil's Tango (Running with the Devil Book 1)

by Claire J Monroe

  “But what about Sinjun, your foster brother?”

  “Michael Black stays in the dark for now. Something is going on with his mate and that’s driving him to do whatever he’s been doing. Sinclair hinted at it on the phone and he wouldn’t have done that if it weren’t something worth looking at.” Tango thought about it. “You’ll be with Black after I leave. See if you can get him to open up on what’s going on with Amelia.”

  “I’ll try but he’s never mentioned them before.”

  “You’ll figure something out.” Tango glanced at the door, then back at her. “I need to go. You clear on what to do?”

  “Not remotely, but I’ll wing it.”

  One last kiss on her forehead. “You’ll do fine. I trust you.”

  Hearing that Van trusted her would never get old. She stopped him before he stepped away, then raised up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Be safe.”

  “I always play it safe.”

  “With your team, yes, but I know you.” One last squeeze, then she eased back and gave him a stern look. “No sacrificing yourself for the sake of the greater good. You get in, get out, and bring Zed, the team, and yourself back. In one piece. And alive. Understood?”

  He grinned. “Sexy bossy. I like it.”

  “Van,” she warned. “I mean it. If I am pregnant like you keep telling me I am, then you will bring yourself back home in one piece—inside and out—because I will not be raising one, two, or however many critters you planted in my belly alone. Is that clear, soldier?”

  He leaned down and scooped up his duffel. “Yes, ma’am. Crystal clear.”

  “Good. Now, go. Before I don’t let you.”

  “Wasn’t sure you’d make it out alive.”

  Tango grinned and tossed his bag in the back of the SUV. “It was touch and go.” He slammed the door shut then hopped in the front passenger seat and looked at Rafe. “But I survived. How long to the plane?”

  “Less than ten.” Rafe put the truck in gear, then held out his phone. “Chase wants a word.”

  Tango took it and held it up to his ear. “Tank.”

  “Gabriel,” Chase said. “Thanks for doing this.”

  Niceties done, Tango jumped to the pertinent. “You up to speed on the mission?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do I need to know about your team?”

  “That they can’t read you, but they trust you. They’ll follow your orders. Rafe is the telekinetic with some empathy. He’ll most likely pick up on anyone in distress long before you breach the compound. Caliv can manipulate magical and energy fields, but he can’t take a direct hit. Derek can manipulate any mind he can grab. Link Caliv and Derek up together and they can manipulate the minds of anyone in that compound not to see you.”

  “Simple enough. What’s the catch?”

  “They can only do mind control with mundane humans and, unfortunately, the bulk of the world is populated with mostly mundanes. So it’s a crap shoot.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, that covers it.”

  “Hold on.” Tango looked to his left. “Rafe, you good staying second on this mission?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tango nodded. “Good, then first thing when we get to the plane I need you focused on going through the intel and figuring a way into the compound.”

  “I usually pilot.”

  “Not this time. Put Caliv on it. If he gives you any shit about it, tell me and I’ll deal with it. Personally.”

  Chase chuckled in Tango’s ear, but kept whatever he was thinking to himself.

  “What about Derek,” Rafe asked.

  “Put him where you need him to help.”

  “Out of my head,” Rafe muttered.

  “Co-pilot and annoying the shit out of the smarmy Brit it is.”

  Rafe snorted a laugh. “Works for me.”

  Another nod and Tango went back to the call. “Anything else, Tank?”

  “Not on my end.”

  “Good, because now it’s my turn.” Tango got comfortable with his inner badass and let a little essence of god slayer leak through in his tone. “I’m not taking over your team and your responsibilities. You have a duty to your men and you will do it.”

  “But,” Chase started to sputter.

  Tango didn’t let him finish. “But nothing. Leaders lead, Chase. Even when we feel like shit, want to gut the world, and destroy everything in it. Yes, you lost Laurel. It happens. They come back. It’s called reincarnation.”

  “Laurel was my life,” Chase declared as if that explained everything.

  It did and that was the problem. One that’d gone on way too long. “Yes, she was and she will be again once you get your head out of your ass and get back into the place where she can find you.”

  “Dammit, Gabriel, it’s not that easy.”

  “Deal with it because it’s your only option.”

  “She’s dead! How the hell am I supposed to deal with that?”

  “You’re not dead, Chase, and the guilt of that is tearing you and your team apart. Get over it, man up, and cut this selfish martyr shit you’ve dumped on your men.” Tango paused a beat. “Or I’ll cut it for you. Clear?”

  “Fuck. You.”

  “Not even on a good hair day with beer goggles on and that wasn’t a suggestion, soldier. It was an order you will obey.”

  “I don’t report to you.”

  “Think again,” Tango snapped. “Delta team is under my command for the next seventy-two hours. Every damn one of your men are my responsibility during that time and I will not have them going into battle distracted by your emotional bullshit. You will get your shit together and you will get your ass back in command. Seventy-two hours. Get your shit straight or else.”

  “Or else what,” Chase demanded.

  Tango narrowed his eyes. “Or I’ll do what you’ve been too chicken shit to do yourself.”

  “Then do it.”

  “Gladly. Tango. Out.” Tango ended the call, then tossed the phone onto the center console. “Think it worked?”

  Rafe chuckled. “Not a chance in hell.”

  Tango grunted his agreeance. “Then we go with Plan B.”

  “Which is?”

  “The power of positive thinking.” Tango leaned back in his seat and let his head thump back onto the head rest. “And a plan to avenge the fuckers who dared touch one of our own.”

  “Can’t do that without Sinclair.”

  “Watch me.”

  “No, Tango, you don’t get it. Sinclair ordered us not to hunt the bastards who killed Laurel.”

  “And you listened? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “It was either stand down or Sinclair would have Chase put down.”

  “Considering the number he’s done on you and the team, you should have taken it.”

  Rafe drove with his mouth shut and eyes glued to the road.

  “What,” Tango snapped after nothing but silence for nearly half of a mile.

  Rafe winced. But reluctantly answered. “I made the call.”

  Sonofa… he should have seen it coming. Tango slapped a hand to his forehead then dragged it down. No wonder Rafe was messed up in the head and drowning in self-doubt. Sinclair had set it up that way. Pitting Rafe against the mother of all golden rules that Sinclair hammered repeatedly into minds of every damn one of his soldiers, then deliberately forcing Rafe to choose… bastard.

  Sinclair’s move was brilliant, but manipulative as fuck and more than explained why everything about Delta team was jacked six ways to Sunday, unpredictable, and unstructured.

  And why the puppet master had picked Tango for command of Delta.

  Because cleaning up Sinclair’s messes and the broken soldiers he left in his wake was Tango’s specialty. For ten years straight he’d played that game. Until he’d met Maddie and had negotiated his respite.

  But that shit would end. One day. Somehow, someway, it would end. Probably when he was dead and buried, but until
then… Tango had a duty to perform. He heaved a world weary sigh and then dropped his hand from his jaw. “Let it go. If Sinclair gave you that choice, then he did it on purpose. He doesn’t want Chase put down any more than you do.”

  “With all due respect, you weren’t there.”

  “With all due respect,” Tango countered, “Sinclair is a manipulative bastard who knows you better than you know yourself. He’s had ten years to find a replacement for Chase and just as long to put his ass in the ground. He’s done neither.”

  “Until you.”

  “I have a team, Rafe, and I’m not looking for a new one. And it sure as shit wouldn’t be a team with the smarmy Brit on it. Were you aware that bastard issued a friends with benefits offer to my woman? Thank fuck she said no. If she hadn’t… you’d be down a team mate. Permanently.”

  “It’s Caliv’s way of acting out. Against me,” Rafe said.

  “No,” Tango drawled out in a meaningful tone that said pay attention. “It’s his way of being an irreverent fuck that gets under your skin and begs for someone bigger and badder to come along, kill him, and bring peace and harmony to the world.” Tango drummed his fingers on his thigh. “And further proof that your team is broken.”

  “If you’ve got ideas to fix the team, I’m listening.”

  “Every fix starts with command.” Tango mentally reviewed every motivational pep talk he’d ever delivered or received. Not a one would make this easier than laying out the truth. “Ditch the guilt. Shit happened. It’s over. Move on.”

  “Easier said than done, but feel free to keep trying.”

  “Truth sucks, but it is what it is. You weren’t command by choice.”

  “I was after Chase bailed.”

  “By necessity, not by choice or training. Sinclair knew this. Took advantage of it. He put you in a shitty position with an even shittier hand. You made a call. Was it the right one? Yes. Why? Because you were played by a master who knew the golden rule.”

  “Which golden rule? Sinclair has so many.”

  “The only one that means anything. Team leads don’t leave a man behind.” Tango waited until Rafe eased the truck past the gates leading to the hangar. “You did the right thing, Rafe. Don’t doubt it. Accept it. Live it. Breathe it. Own it.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “No trying to it. Do it,” Tango ordered. “Then remember to remind me of that golden rule when the battle starts because if Caliv starts pulling his shit I may just make an exception for him.”

  Rafe stopped the truck, then turned toward him. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

  “Anytime. We good?”

  Rafe nodded and put it in park. “Almost. Feel obliged to warn you that should you be needing that reminder, it may not happen until after the fact.” He paused and unbuckled. “Yours wasn’t the only one Caliv made that offer to.”

  Tango soaked that in then looked up at the plane and considered his response. It didn’t take long. Actually it took a helluvalot less time than it should have. “He on the plane?”

  “Yep.”

  “Get him out here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Tango popped the handle on his door, opening it. “It’s time for your second lesson in command.”

  “Which one is that?”

  Tango grinned. It was evil and felt great. “How to conduct counseling sessions that are both effective and rewarding as hell to deliver.”

  Tango was a god slayer.

  He’d been right. Dell looked out the passenger window and smiled at his reflection. The god slayer had been reborn and it was Tango. Son of a gun, it was Tango. Dell chuckled to himself.

  “What the hell are you laughing about,” Whiskey demanded from the backseat.

  “Nothing.” Dell sobered. Or tried to at least. “Nothing at all.”

  Fox shot him a worried glance. “This you finally snapping?”

  “Nope.” Slowly Dell’s laughter faded into a supreme happiness. “Quite the opposite.”

  “You gonna share with the class,” Whiskey barked, irritated. “Or do I have to pick your brain apart piece by piece and take it? Please say the latter because after Tango’s shit move, I’m in the mood to destroy something.”

  Dell pondered that for a good minute as the mile markers on the highway flew by. Should he share what he knew with him? Were they ready to know that having a god slayer reborn to this world meant that things were finally moving? That the prophesized warrior was finally here to start the war that would end all wars?

  “Dell,” Fox prompted.

  Dell looked at him, then over his shoulder at an annoyed Whiskey. Aw, what the hell. It’s not like they could do anything to stop it. The god slayer was reborn and his destiny sealed. There was nothing they could do but sit back and watch the show. For now. “I know what Tango is.”

  Whiskey’s brows practically hit the roof with shock. “You know what a god slayer is.”

  Dell nodded. “I do. And if you want to live to see the end of the world, I suggest you stay out of his head and as far away from his destiny as possible.”

  “Fuck that,” Whiskey snapped. “Not as long as he keeps tapping into whatever shit he’s got locked up inside of him that won’t stop trying to open a portal to another dimension that has a demonic hoard ready to pour in and annihilate us.”

  Fox grunted his agreeance. “I’m with Whiskey. No Hell portals. We barely survived the last one.”

  “That’s because it wasn’t a Hell portal,” Dell murmured with a smirk.

  “Bullshit. I felt what was in there. Demons. Angry, battle ready demons pissed off and ready to end the world.”

  Dell laughed in Whiskey’s face. The end was near and the stalemate that’d dragged on for near four thousand years would soon be over and… Whiskey, as powerful as he was, didn’t have a freaking clue. For now. But he would soon enough. After the prophesy rolled out and Dell played his part, they’d know. They’d all know. Slowly he sobered, but retained a happy grin. “Those weren’t demons.”

  “If not demons, then what?”

  “Screw what,” Fox added. “Tell me how to kill those red eyed freaks with the fangs and swords.”

  “You can’t kill them,” Dell answered. “That’s why they’re locked up.”

  “What are they,” Whiskey demanded.

  “Exactly what they’re meant to be.”

  “Which is,” Fox prodded.

  Dell looked at Fox, then at Whiskey. It wouldn’t change anything if they knew. Not now. It’s not like they’d be able to stop it. Nope, they wouldn’t be able to stop it at all. Especially not now when Dell had the answer to the question of why his ability to drain magical energy from his teammates always fizzled and stopped before he emptied them of what this mundane plane wasn’t and had never been designed to maintain.

  But he had his answer now. So he gave them theirs.

  “The god slayer’s army.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Maddie’s plan to start Sinjun’s interrogation as soon as he set foot into the warehouse was interrupted by Kenny waking up then announcing he was starving. That wasn’t a surprise. Her little brother was always starving. But it’d worked in her favor when Sinjun gladly joined in, gorged himself on the impromptu feast she’d whipped up, and then politely declined the half of a pecan pie she’d slid onto the table in front of her salivating little brother.

  With Kenny fully distracted for at least another five minutes, Maddie followed Sinjun into the living area. “Why didn’t you tell me you grew up with my husband or that you two were foster brothers?”

  Sinjun shrugged. “Wasn’t important when we first met.”

  “Wrong answer. Try again.”

  “No, it’s the right answer.”

  “How in the world could it be the right answer?”

  “Easy, Maddie. You two weren’t together.”

  “Oh.” He was right. She’d known Sinjun for about ten years and Van for going on seven. “Fine, but
that still doesn’t explain why didn’t you mention you and Andrei were brothers.”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  “I didn’t.”

  Maddie frowned. “What kind of answer is that? Because I didn’t. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Does from where I’m sitting.”

  “You’re not sitting.”

  He adjusted the waistband to his pants, then dropped his butt into her favorite chair. “Am now and I really need to get that recipe. Didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it would for you to make it.” He propped his boots up on the ottoman. “There a reason why you’re interrogating me?”

  “Yes.” Maddie folded her arms across her chest and cocked a hip the side. “I thought we were friends.”

  “We are.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me Andrei is your brother or that you have a mate and son?”

  “Sonofa—,” Sinjun stopped and glared at her. “You need to forget you ever heard anything about that.”

  “Why, Sinjun? That’s what friends do. Know things about each other. Like family and birthdays and—”

  “Drop it,” Sinjun ordered on a growl as his boots dropped to the ground and he sat up.

  “That supposed to intimidate me? The growling thing? Cause it won’t work. Van’s growls are way scarier than yours and—”

  “I’m not your mate and if you cross me…,” Sinjun trailed off.

  “You’ll what? Put a bounty on my head and sic a band of mercenaries on me? Oh wait, been there, done that, got the blown up house to prove it.”

  “You’re alive, Maddie, and that’s what counts.”

  Maddie’s jaw dropped. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “It’s true,” Sinjun assured her.

  “But we’re friends! At least I thought we were. Until I found out that for the whole time we’ve known each other you have been lying to me.”

  “I have not lied to you.”

  “A lie by omission is still a lie.”

  “According to whose rules,” he demanded. “Certainly not yours. You’ve been omitting shit left and right that your mate damn well should have been read in on.”