Losing wings severed the mating bond. Odessa still had one out if she needed to cut ties with him. He’d sacrifice his wings for her. He wouldn’t make her stay with him if she was miserable.
“Thanks, Sierra.” Disconnecting, he said, “We need to rent a car.”
* * *
Odessa spotted the little cottage at the edge of small village outside of London.
“This is the place.” Bryant found a spot to park.
Sierra’s directions had been exceptional, and they’d driven right to it. It wasn’t her first car ride, but Odessa hadn’t realized how…sexy…it could be to ride in a car with a male that could handle it. Like, really handle it. He was comfortable driving on the left side of the road. She wondered if, since he’d grown up here, he did as well driving on the right, or if he was ambidextrous that way.
Odessa mentally snorted. It was Bryant. Of course he was confident driving anything, anywhere.
Even though they were going on a hunch, Odessa was afraid of what they might find. After Frankie, an empty, depressed cottage would bother her more. She hadn’t expected good news from investigating fallen, but the sadness piled up.
Urban and Harlowe reported the two fallen from their search hadn’t survived. The third fallen they were searching for had three jobs trying to afford an apartment in the city he was dumped in. Bronx and Dionna had only found one of theirs—a former analyst, to Odessa’s surprise. She had fallen because she’d purposely dictated a watcher’s notes incorrectly out of jealousy. It had caused several human injuries. That fallen had bought a black-market ID, got herself a decent job, and was living a good life—in the state pen, for embezzlement. The two warriors were searching for their second fallen but suspected he had met with a similar life.
“If she’s here, are you going to turn her mate in?” Odessa asked.
Bryant didn’t answer her question, but his mouth flattened. She knew the answer. Her kind was forbidden from aiding a fallen and Mathias giving his former mate a home would be a grievous violation.
She was about to push him for a reason why, the couple probably wasn’t hurting anyone, when he said, “Bugger all, there’s kids.”
Odessa whipped her head around to look. Two young kids ran into the front yard to play. She was terrible at guessing children’s ages, but from her time working in the kiddy store, she would estimate them be about five and eight years old.
“Did he re-mate?” She should be relieved that Bryant wouldn’t have to report Mathias. But to move on after losing a mate? She heard it happened. Did he have to do it near the city his fallen mate had been dumped?
A woman with long, black hair strode out of the cottage. She headed down the walk, gesturing for the kids to follow her. The woman was identical to the picture Sierra had sent of Junie Perez. A male followed behind, Mathias Perez, and the family held hands toward the market uptown.
Odessa and Bryant were both stunned into silence.
“That’s one badass male,” Odessa said in stark appreciation. “Matthias Perez is secretly raising a family with his fallen mate.”
“Those kids can’t be hers.” Bryant’s finger flew as he punched in information to send to Sierra.
“I’ve heard fallen can’t reproduce, but is there anyone that actually tracks that?”
“I’ve got Sierra on it. The kids don’t really look like them, but that doesn’t always mean anything.”
“Perhaps they adopted.” Numen had the means to forge human paperwork.
They sat for several minutes in their shock. The family meandered back to their cottage, their errand done, happy and laughing, swinging kids around.
Odessa asked her question again. “Are you going to report them?”
Bryant’s phone vibrated, saving him from having to answer again. “She found info with their names. They go to school and everything. Her thought is they were taken off the street, unofficially adopted by the Perezes. She suspects Junie would’ve stayed away for a while, years maybe, to make sure anyone checking in on Mathias would think he was doing exactly what he said. She might’ve lived in the shelters, with Mathias’s help.”
Bryant put his phone away. “I have to tell Director Richter,” he finally admitted.
Odessa’s heart sank. She couldn’t stand to see the beautiful family ripped apart in any way. Not any more than they had been.
“But,” he continued, “while this is going on, he might have to set the case aside. You know, then it might get shuffled under other work, and who knows, forgotten for a while.”
Hope rose. “The director would do that?”
“My gut tells me she’s not ‘the tall, dark, handsome type’ the gnome described, so he might. He’s not heartless.” Bryant’s thoughtful tone didn’t inspire the most confidence. The director was far from heartless, but he was all about duty.
“It’s an excellent plan,” she uttered quietly. “One mistake ruined her life, but she rebuilt it.”
“A smart warrior would. I have my plan. If I fall, I’ll be fine. I have my flat. And you’d be able to move on and wait for your destined mate.”
He said it so definitively, Odessa was taken aback. “I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but I know I couldn’t just move on.”
“Odessa—” Bryant started in a placating tone.
“No, don’t start that with me. I believe in us. You don’t seem to.” Her anger and irritation rose at his hard-headedness. “Unlike a destined mate, I got to chose you. We knew each other better when we sealed our bond than most synced couples do. And I’ve seen plenty of synced couples living in misery with their mates. Couples that quit trying. Several societies in the human world use arranged marriages, and many of them are successful. I like you. A lot. I don’t know what else to do to get that through to you.”
All she could do was watch his profile, and since they were in a car in England, it was his scarred side she stared at. For a while during their drive, he had hunched over the wheel and tipped his head in an attempt to get his cap to shadow his face. Eventually, he had lost his self-consciousness. At the moment, he seemed to be making a point presenting her with what he considered his worst side.
“When you don’t need my protection anymore, you might very well think differently,” he finally said. “And it’s okay. You never have to be stuck with me.”
Odessa opened her mouth to say something, then clamped down. He was so. Damn. Frustrating. “How about this? You wait until I don’t need your protection before you decide how I’ll feel. Give me a chance to show you.”
He remained maddingly calm as he stared straight ahead. “What if that’s not until years from now?”
“Then I guess we’ll have a lot of sex until then.”
Bryant let out a startled sound like a cough. “Shite, Odessa. You’re never what I expect.”
“Good. Now, should we return this rental and go to the U.S. to see my sister?”
Chapter 23
Bryant held Odessa’s hand as the cab pulled up to Felicia’s apartment. The sun was high in the sky and the temperature approached three digits. By the time they’d gotten the rental car back, it was evening and the sun was sinking low in the sky. Here in Atlanta, sunshine was going full force. They had arrived at a place Bryant used when he had to travel here. All warriors had a spot in most large cities. Then they’d flagged a car.
He and Odessa spilled out and entered the building with the code Sierra had given them. Once they reached Felicia’s place, Bryant rapped on the door and called, “It’s me.”
The door swung open to a glowering warrior. He looked just as pissed as he did when Bryant last saw him.
“Jagger,” Bryant greeted.
“Boss.” He sounded just as upset.
Odessa had messaged her sister, letting them know when they’d be arriving. Felicia was nowhere to be seen. Loud music boomed from behind a closed door down the hallway along with random sounds, like muffled hits.
“Is Filly in here?” Odessa heade
d in the direction of the music.
“Yep.” Jagger didn’t look in the direction of the noise. “She holes up in there for a good few hours at a time. Best part of my day.”
Bryant lifted an eyebrow toward the male. “What’s she doing in there?”
“Hitting shit. Thinks she’s some kind of fighter.” Jagger made a pffft sound. “Whatever.”
“Have you ever seen her in there? Ever sparred with her?”
“Nope.” He brushed his blond hair off his forehead and reclined back against the sofa.
“You should. Find out what she really does know.” Felicia wasn’t wasting time in her workout hole, not from the way she handled herself training Odessa.
Jagger’s mouth twisted like he couldn’t believe Felicia would know anything. “She might think she knows a lot.”
“And it’s your job as her guardian to know what skills she does and doesn’t have.”
A chagrined look crossed the male’s face. He knew what he should be doing and knew his feelings toward Felicia were clouding his judgment.
“Got it, boss.”
A spark of doubt niggled at Bryant. Was Jagger the best choice for this assignment?
“’Sup, bro?” Felicia strode down the hallway, Odessa trailing her.
Bryant inclined his head in greeting to his newest family member. Felicia was glowing with perspiration and wearing only a purple sports bra and neon yellow running shorts. Her brassy locks were secured in a sloppy twist behind her head. He glanced at Jagger, but the male was glaring out the window.
Things were going to get worse between the pair before they got better. Jagger didn’t like it, but he’d do his job. But would he do it well enough?
“Have you had any problems here? Suspicious activity?” Bryant’s gaze vacillated between the both of them.
Felicia shook her head and wandered into the kitchen for some water. Odessa crossed to his side.
“Not a thing,” Jagger replied.
Felicia called from the kitchen. “No one knows about this place. Except for you guys.”
“What about your dad?” Bryant asked. He despised the male, but he didn’t believe Kreger would intentionally hurt his family. Yet, it was still a potential security leak if someone was watching Senator Montclaire to get to his daughters.
“Father can suck it.”
That was a no.
Jagger snorted and shook his head. He made no effort to hide his derision for the way Felicia talked about her dad. Bryant understood why she wouldn’t want to tell anyone about her traumatic past, but he wished she would confide in Jagger. Maybe he’d be less of an asshole.
Odessa spoke up before her sister confronted Jagger about his attitude. “We think we might be closer to finding out who the one in this realm is, the one responsible for amassing a human following for Daemon possession.”
Jagger sat forward, his hands folded over his knees. Felicia came out from around the bar that separated the kitchen from the living area and leaned against the wall, sipping from her glass. Bryant filled them in on the watcher’s death and the fate of her body. He told them about the club, and how they researched the archives for the fallen who was responsible for Magan’s death. During his speech, Jagger grew still, his face tight.
When he was finished, there was silence. Even Felicia watched Jagger closely.
“So…who’s the poor bastard that had to find my father?” Jagger’s question landed like a bomb between all of them.
Odessa frowned and she glanced at Bryant. Felicia paused with her glass halfway to her mouth.
Son.
Of a.
Bitch.
His gut had told him something was wrong, something was missing. How did he not notice? One of his own team had a father who fell—and whose name wasn’t in the bin.
Jagger’s father fell decades ago, and he’d diligently worked on separating himself from that scandalous part of his life. All of them had—for Jagger’s sake. Fallen were never spoken about, and it was encouraged they be forgotten all together. Association of any sort could result in their own loss of wings.
The answer was in front of their noses, and they’d all looked beyond it—a consequence of their upbringing. Fallen are forgotten. Or his team had assumed Bryant was either discreetly handling the check on Jagger’s father—or that Jagger was already in the know and they were fine looking the other way.
Bryant ran a hand over his scalp. “No wonder all of us hit dead ends.” The remaining fallen his team had tracked down had all either expired, or were barely scraping by. “Fuck.”
Jagger stood slowly. “You don’t think my father had anything to do with the murder, do you?”
Bryant faced his teammate. Disbelief was etched in Jagger’s features. The warrior didn’t think his father capable, but then, he had a skewed opinion of the man he’d grown up adoring. Disbelief wasn’t the only emotion warring in Jagger’s expression. Anger that they would think of accusing his father, and horrified that it might very well be true.
“His scroll was missing.” That by itself was telling. Why was it gone? Had it been destroyed? And by whom? Bryant didn’t think Jagger was involved. His reaction was too visceral, too hurt.
Jagger abruptly sat back down. “He was a liar and a cheat. Being a murderer wouldn’t be a stretch.” His tone was morose, withdrawn.
“What was your father’s name?” Odessa asked gently.
“James Hancock.”
Bryant and Odessa exchanged a look. Fuck. It was bad enough they had a fallen that had figured out how to enter the Mist and kill Numen. He might be the earthly mastermind behind the whole thing.
“What?” Jagger asked, catching the exchange.
“The club owner’s name is Jameson Haddock. It’s…very similar,” Odessa said softly. Jagger realized the rest on his own. His father was working with demons.
The play of emotions across the young warrior’s face made Bryant want to hunt Jameson Haddock down just for destroying his son all over again. No kid should have to live through that mess once. Jagger was facing it twice. Only, if Jameson was behind all this, his fate would be permanent.
Bryant squatted down next to him. “Do you want to come with us and search for him?”
The warrior had to watch a parent lose his wings and then grow up under that shadow. No one spoke of his father, probably not even his mother. For years, Numen had probably avoided Jagger, like falling might rub off on them. The warrior had thought he reached a point where it was all left behind. He had earned respect of his own, only to find out his father fell to become a murderer of their kind.
The muscle in Jagger’s jaw flexed. It was a chance to see his dad, a chance to right the wrong his father had done. Bryant knew Jagger. In his mind, it would also prove undeniably that he came from regrettable parentage.
“No.” Jagger inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. “I can’t chance taking Felicia near him.” He added in a hard tone, “Knowing how they both are.”
Odessa gasped.
Shock crossed Felicia’s face before it clouded with pain and anger. “You think I would throw myself at your father?”
She slammed her glass down on the bar and stormed to her room. Odessa chased after her, throwing a heated look back at Jagger.
Jagger ground his jaw, his gaze on the floor in front of him.
Bryant tried to control his disappointment in Jagger. The male was hurting, furious, and he’d lashed out at Felicia for it. “I get you’re going through some shit right now. Just know, you have no idea what that female has been through. Be a better male than your father and treat her with some respect.”
Jagger’s angry gaze met his with a dirty glare. “It’s hard when neither one deserves any respect.”
Bryant got it. He did. His first few minutes after meeting Felicia gave him insight on how she’d lived her life. He also knew about the attack and what she suffered, Jagger didn’t.
“Have you ever done anything stupid and at the time, yo
u had a damn good reason?”
“What my father did wasn’t naïve stupidity.”
“I’m not talking about James Hancock. He was old enough to know better and held a position in government that made it unforgivable. Felicia was a troubled young girl when you knew her last. She lied, yes. But I doubt she’s the only one that’s lied when it comes to her.” Bryant let him think about that.
Jagger’s pale brows drew together. “Are you saying you believe the rumors regarding her aren’t true?”
Well…probably not all of them. “I’m saying it’s possible some of them may be nothing more than boastful locker room talk.”
Jagger sighed and ran a hand through his hair, swiping it off his forehead. “Fine. I’ll be nice…er.”
Nicer. That was better than calling her a slut that would sleep with the plotting, murdering father of her guardian.
“I’ll keep you updated on what we find out. I need to get Odessa and find this Jameson Haddock.”
* * *
Sandeen wandered along the Strip in Las Vegas, a curved Daemon blade tucked into his side. Jameson had been only slightly pleased with the tiny little blade Sandeen had handed him. Then Sandeen had held out an empty vial that would hold a good few milliliters of Jameson’s fallen blood.
Something told Sandeen that Jameson wasn’t an ordinary fallen. He might not have his wings, but he wasn’t merely fallen. He hoped his blood would still contain some of the properties that made Numen special.
Jameson’s lips had thinned, but he had used the Daemon blade to nick his wrist. He allowed several drops to fill the vial, his bright chartreuse eyes challenging.
“Are you going to drink it?” Jameson had asked accusingly.
Sandeen had shrugged ominously. The question hadn’t offend him like it was meant to.
Angels might not drink blood, but for demons, it meant the fight was over. Or just beginning.
For the first test, Sandeen had kept it simple and polished his new curved blade with Jameson’s blood. The test would be to find a way to slice a possessed host, or even better, an angel. A Numen wouldn’t go running to his father and tattle that Sandeen was hunting his own. Any angel he took on, he’d have to kill, and he’d need to do it sparingly. It wouldn’t do to have Numen completely on guard—more than they were when it came to his kind.
Angel Fire: Angel Fire, Book 1 Page 22
