Unholy Proposal (Unholy Inc Book 1)

by Misty Dietz

  Alexios was for damn sure going to pay for this interruption.

  He ran a hand down Jessie’s hip. “I promise I’ll be back. Until then…Somnus.”

  Jessie’s eyes drifted shut, her mind instantly asleep at his command. He eased her under the covers, brushing brown and pink curls away from her face, unable to resist kissing her one more time. After slipping on his shirt, he removed the quiche and turned the oven off. Then he stepped into the hallway, locked the door, and added wards to repel not only the Incubi, but also the Rephaim and Nephilim, three classes of fallen angels who could control demons—evil, bodiless spirits who’d gone to hell and required a human host if they found a way back to Earth to torment those whose hearts still beat with life.

  Fallen angels, on the other hand, took their own forms so they didn’t need a host, using glamor to walk undetected among the humans. And then there were the archdemons. As Lucifer’s children, they were at the top of Hell’s food chain, able to control even the fallen angels.

  That was Demonology 101. Nate knew it well, though he had yet to cross paths with an archdemon.

  Demons—in all their toxic manifestations—were all too real, although most humans couldn’t see them. It was a pain in the ass, but he was in his own form of Purgatory because of the despicable choices he’d made as a human. The only time he’d ever been honorable was his final decision when he’d sacrificed his human life for that of a stranger’s.

  One noble moment in a life built in homage to selfishness. It was true of all Guardians, except Alexios.

  Of course, Nate’s choices had been a necessity in the dog-eat-shit world of twentieth century East End London. But apparently the big chief upstairs didn’t take survival circumstances into account when weighing your actions. It would’ve been swell if the Guardians received some sort of “play-nice” pill to help ease their post-human journey. But no. They were stuck with the same shitty vices they’d possessed their first go-round, and it would remain that way until the Apocalypse rolled around.

  Lamentably, resisting his vices was usually harder than throwing down with the demons who managed to worm their way to Earth and inhabit a human host. He’d been called a manipulative asshole more times and in more astonishingly creative ways than he could recount, but honestly, he could be a lot worse. Take Katherine, for instance. She was another Unholy Inc member, and she could be a downright, cold-hearted ogress.

  Whatever.

  Nate went down the stairs and stepped out the front door of the building, grateful for the brisk autumn air on his heated skin. He wasn’t afraid of demons, but he was unsettled about Jessie. The senses she’d awakened indicated that she was important to him in a way that he couldn’t put his finger on.

  She couldn’t be a compar—a potential soul mate—because she was human. Yet there was something very compelling about her. He’d have to ask another Unholy Inc partner, Jinx, if she’d ever heard of this type of connection between a Guardian and a human.

  Whatever was between them, he wanted to be with Jessie again soon.

  Unfortunately, in less than twelve hours she’d find out who he really was.

  Then things might get a little tetchy.

  Chapter 3

  “Grandpa’s going to love that cashmere scarf. But don’t cave and give it to him before your anniversary like you did last year,” Jessie scolded her grandmother. She pulled into her grandparents’ driveway, put her car in park, and hustled out of the vehicle to assist the tiny woman. The lovely shade of pink that bloomed on Tillie Jacobs’ cheeks took a good decade off her seventy-nine years.

  “Walt can beguile all he likes. But this year, I am not giving in,” Tillie promised.

  Jessie nodded, noticing her grandfather step out the front door to collect his bride, a slight breeze catching a shock of his white hair to make it stand on end. He’d been watching and waiting for Tillie every day for the last fifty-eight years. Theirs was a real life love story—the for richer, for poorer, through sickness and health kind.

  Not the fairy tale sort like last night with demigod Nate.

  Yeah, don’t go there right now. “Good. Be strong for five more days, Gramma. If you get weak and feel like spilling the beans early, give me a call. I’m good at interventions. Deal?”

  Tillie tucked the package under her arm and tilted her cheek for Walt’s kiss when he reached her side. “It’s a deal. Though, you may regret your offer. I have a feeling this rascal is going pester me relentlessly.”

  Tillie’s smile coaxed a wink from Walt before he turned to Jessie. “You girls have a good time?”

  His expression was far more serious than his voice suggested. “She was fine,” Jessie whispered, closing her eyes when his arms came around her. He smelled like Old Spice, love, and happy times. All her best memories included these two.

  “It was wonderful, Walt. I’ve missed shopping.” Tillie yawned and leaned into her husband. Jessie’s gaze met her grandfather’s worried one over her grandmother’s head. Just two months ago, Tillie’s doctor had advised that they start looking for nursing homes because of her failing health. Walt was devastated at the thought of living apart from her. Jessie worried they’d both go downhill if they were separated, so she was determined to find a way to keep them together. The few available options were just so damn expensive. She swallowed a lump in her throat and pasted on a smile. “I’ll take you anytime you wanna go, Gramma.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. You’re always so good to me.”

  “Good to us.” Walt angled his body to shield Tillie from the wind.

  “If I can give you half the love you guys have showered on me since…” Mom tried to throw me in a dumpster in her cocaine-induced rage over having a biracial child…

  “Jessie.” Her grandfather’s voice held a warning, but no matter how much they wanted her to forget, some things were impossible to un-remember.

  Or forgive. Even if her mother had eventually died sober—and more tolerant of the black half of Jessie’s genetics—a few years ago.

  She rubbed her grandmother’s frail arm. “Go on inside now. Some tea and a nap would be a good follow up to our shopping trip, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, that sounds nice, if a little patronizing, dear.”

  Jessie kissed her cheek. “The tough love’s gotta come from somewhere since your groom does nothing but spoil you.”

  Walt’s laughter followed her as she made her way back to the car. Though the wind continued to fuss, her grandfather’s voice carried strongly. “You’ll understand when someone becomes the very beat of your heart.”

  “Don’t ever settle, Jessica!” Tillie added, looking pale.

  “I’ll get right on that, guys. I’ll invite you to the wedding if I find any extra Disney princes in my part of town!”

  “Jessica.”

  “Just kidding!” Kinda. Nate could definitely inspire a new Disney prince. Well, the x-rated sort anyway. Jessie raised her hand in a vague wave. “Enjoy your siesta. I’ll call you later!” When she got in the car, she still had half an hour before her work meeting at TERRA, the new name for the nightclub that Uncle Mason had built from the ground up. But since it would be her first meeting with the club’s new owner—the man who practically stole her uncle’s life’s work right out from under him—she might as well get there early. Good impressions and all that. Besides, she didn’t want to give people cause to believe she was responsible when the cops started investigating.

  Because she was determined to find out why the new owner had wanted the club so bad. And how he’d manipulated Mason into selling it for pennies on the dollar. Her uncle wasn’t shrewd, compelling, or smooth—qualities you associate with nightclub owners. Yeah, he had demons of his own, but he’d been a constant presence in her life, always there to dry her tears when her mom was a post-party wreck.

  And of course, he’d been the one to stop Aurora Blaze from throwing six-year-old Jessie into a garbage dumpster.

  Now, it was Jessie’s t
urn to help him.

  Maintaining her job at the club would give her an insider’s look at their nerve center so she could somehow make this right for her uncle, hopefully without making it into a big news event. That would be too hard on Gramma and Grandpa after the media circus her mother had put them through.

  Jessie yawned at the next stoplight. She really shouldn’t be tired. Last night she’d had the most restful, dreamless sleep in months.

  And the best orgasm of her life.

  How humiliating that she’d fallen asleep afterwards. Especially when Nate had been so sweet about the whole thing. He could have woken her, but instead he’d tucked her under the covers and locked the door on his way out. She still didn’t understand how he’d managed that with the deadbolt on the inside, but whatever, it was a princess moment, and really, how many of those did a girl get in a year?

  At twenty-six, Jessie was only a few years older than most second-year law students, but she felt a major disconnect with females her age. Probably had to do with having a gorgeous and talented actress as a mother. A mother who’d floated in and out of rehab for almost two decades before dying tragically in a car crash at the height of her revived career.

  Yeah, that.

  And feeling responsible for her grandparents’ welfare. That kind of stuff trumped which club you were going to hit up on Friday night and what nail polish color was in vogue. Jessie looked at her hands with their unadorned fingernails, trying not to care.

  Maybe she felt older than her peers because as a bartender for the last four years she’d witnessed how alcohol was the grand equalizer. Pretty, perky blondes from the right side of the tracks puked just as unglamorously as the down-on-their-luck meth heads who were usually the victims of their own search for meaning, self-medicating their underlying fears, anxiety, pain…

  Life could be so unfair, and people could be so stupid. So cruel to one another.

  But every once in a while, life handed you a rainbow.

  Jessie shook off her morose thoughts as she smiled, thinking of Nate again. Perhaps he liked her for more than her rack. He’d certainly seemed upset when she’d been self conscious, asking who’d made her feel ashamed. Like she’d ever tell him about the last guy she’d been with who’d poked at her belly and mimicked the Pillsbury Dough Boy giggle. She’d sent that guy packing so fast he was still zipping his pants out the door and down the hall.

  Nate was different. He seemed to understand and appreciate women in many respects. He actually had something going on between his ears. He’d even asked about her bucket list as he’d whipped up the quiche. The guy was either the whole enchilada, or a serious player.

  Why didn’t she think to ask him his last name?

  She’d ask the next time she saw him. Hopefully soon. For now, she needed to concentrate on meeting her new boss. She pulled into TERRA’s parking lot and took a deep breath. According to Uncle Mason, TERRA was owned by a member of Unholy Inc. What kind of business name was that? The owners were probably sharks. Well, she’d have to learn to eat sharks for breakfast if she wanted to be a success in the courtroom, right?

  JBlaze, her bartending alter ego, sure as hell knew how it was done.

  Jessie stepped out of her car and shut the door. Her mixologist persona might not appeal to everyone, but she couldn’t leave it behind, because JBlaze was a safe place to channel all her fear and insecurities. The face she put on to placate a let’s-pretend-we-have-it-all-together society because no matter how much the tabloids had speculated on it, she’d never measure up—in looks, style, or charisma—to her famous mother. JBlaze was her show, her wall, a protective force that had swooped to her rescue when the paparazzi had poured in, cameras flashing, zooming in on her grief—and painfully guilty relief—when word of her mother’s death hit the news wires.

  More people should have a JBlaze of their own. Way cheaper than shrinks.

  And of course, JBlaze was who drew clientele at the club.

  Management had told her that’s why the new owner had kept her when he’d fired so many others who’d worked for her uncle. Why he’d kept her on, even though she was Mason’s niece.

  One thing was for certain. They’d be watching her.

  Wouldn’t it be something if the reason the new owner kept her was the very thing that took him down?

  A small smile tipped her lips until, halfway across the parking lot, she looked up at TERRA and faltered.

  Nate stared down at her from a second story window.

  From the boss’s office.

  Chapter 4

  Racing downstairs, Nate felt more out of control than he cared to admit. Watching Jessie get out of her car had fired his blood. When she’d spotted him, his enhanced eyesight had observed her eyes widening, her light coffee-colored skin paling. Then when the anger had bloomed across her lovely features, his gut had dropped into open space. He’d been wondering how to handle this delicate situation all night. She had to work for him. Her popularity as JBlaze, celebrated mixologist, would guarantee the high numbers they needed to make TERRA an instant success. A successful club meant lots of bodies, which would attract hungry demons faster than a T-bone at a carnivores-anonymous meeting.

  Unholy Inc’s nightclubs were the perfect cover for the Guardians’ work, and he was not going to be the partner who botched it up.

  So don’t let her get away.

  He met her at the door. She’d left her hair down. He loved the sexy bun she usually wore, but with the sassy pink winking in and out of her corkscrew curls today, she was a vision.

  “You’re the new owner, aren’t you?” she demanded.

  “I am, but—”

  “You slick bastard! You totally played me. What are you doing driving around in a gas-guzzling old truck? Why aren’t you in a Mercedes like that black piece of work outside? Or is the truck only for slumming it in the projects with me?”

  Whoa. This Jessie was a whole different woman from the soft, self-conscious angel in his arms last night. “I happen to like my truck. I can load all manner of rubbish in the back. Besides, Mercedes aren’t my style. The shiny black number belongs to Spencer, one of my…partners.”

  Her blue eyes glistened and burned. “You know everything about me because you have my personnel files. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  He brought a hand up to touch her hair, but she smacked it away. Right. This was definitely not going the way he’d hoped. “Apologies. I didn’t know who you were until a couple of days ago.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better about last night?”

  “I usually don’t need to tell people I’m loaded to get them to like me,” he said.

  “Pfft. I wasn’t talking about your bank account. You’re my employer.” She shook her head, her eyes snapping and somehow…shadowed. “You’re every bit as arrogant and manipulative as Mason says you are.”

  Nate’s jaw tightened. The kitchen staff meeting was apparently over and several people were moving toward where he and Jessie stood by the entrance. “You sure you want to do this here?”

  “If I can’t confront a man for outright deception, how can I expect to get up in front of a judge and jury to argue a vulnerable client’s case? You’ve fired several good employees who’ve done nothing wrong. And for what? Just because you can.” She punctuated her delivery with a sharp jab of her finger on his chest.

  He took hold of her wrist. “Wrong. Every single person I dismissed is either a drug dealer or a user. That’s not only unacceptable, that could get me shut down.”

  She opened and closed her mouth, then frowned harder. “That’s a lie! Are you so perfect you’ve never needed a second chance? Does the power make you feel important?”

  “Upstairs in my office. Now.”

  “Hell no, I’m leaving. I refuse to sit idly by while good people get axed by a sly double dealer. But before I go, I suggest you start recruiting staff at the convent if you’re so worried about your image.”

  Nate didn’t kn
ow if he should laugh or give her a sound paddling. Unfortunately at that moment, Katherine Evangelista, Unholy Inc partner in charge of AQUA in Hawaii, strode toward them with controlled fury on her coldly beautiful face, her Jimmy Choos clicking ominously on the dance floor. Katherine paused at his side, looking Jessie up and down imperiously before turning to him, completely dismissing Jessie. “There’s really no point in keeping her, Nate. We want magnetic, professional, and classy. Her inferiority complex is completely justified.”

  Bloody hell. Nate felt more than saw Jessie blanch, then wind back up for a return lob. The Jessie from last night might be no match for Katherine’s ice bitchiness, but today there might be some serious bloodletting between these two. As Jessie opened her mouth, Nate squatted down, grabbed her about the waist, and hoisted her over his shoulder.

  Jessie smacked him in the bum before using her hand as a lever to lean up and yell at Katherine. “You weren’t held much as a baby, were you?”

  Bad and badder. Nate heard Katherine’s indrawn breath as his boots ate up the space to the men’s bathroom where he growled at a couple of guys who were at the urinals to beat feet. He set Jessie down and locked the door after the last man’s exit. When he turned around she slapped him across the cheek. He grabbed her wrist and got up in her face, his heart pumping at a skin-tingling rate. “Chill. Out,” he growled.

  “You used me!”

  “No, you have the facts skewed, Miss Blaze. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ll remember that I cooked while you studied, we drank, I got you off, and then I left. The. End.”

  “You’re still an asshole. You should have told me who you were. You knew you were my boss last night.”

  Jessie’s face was mutinous, her chest was heaving, and all he suddenly wanted to do was finish what he’d started in her apartment. Put his mouth on those gorgeous breasts, spread her legs and…