Right. Debriefing.
He relayed the little information he felt safe sharing, and when he finished, he risked a peek at Tanis. The angel’s face appeared normal. He’d half expected his mentor to smack his lips, tasting the air for lies, but not even the feathers of his wings quivered.
“What’s our next move?” Kas asked.
Head bowed, Tanis turned away and paced the short distance in front of his desk. A spear of unease hit Cain below the ribs as he waited. He ran the conversations through his head, worried he’d revealed a clue to Abel’s identity.
“I need to make the call,” Tanis said.
The Directorate would expect this sort of news to be reported, although they never gave the team help on missions. Cain wanted to know how they’d react to Renegade activity that had practically occurred in the open.
“Does this mean I can go home?” Katie asked, turning expectant eyes on Tanis.
Cain locked his jaw before an answer slipped out. She looked ready to split, and he’d bet she thought she’d done her part and was off the hook. Nothing was farther from the truth.
“Until we capture the killer, you need to keep a low profile and stay somewhere else for a few weeks,” Tanis said. “Under the circumstances, I can offer you sanctuary in the Stronghold—”
“No, no. I don’t want to be any more trouble,” Katie interrupted. “I have a place outside the city. It’s super safe and out of the way. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll take her.” The words left Cain’s mouth before anyone else could make the offer. He stared hard at Tanis. “We gave our word to the fireman.”
The scenario was perfect. He’d finally get her alone and question her in private. Cain waited for any protests. Nesty and Jarrid shared a grin. Kas rolled his eyes, a frown on his face. He caught the flare of surprise on Tanis’s face, and swallowed. What he said wasn’t a lie. They were keeping their word.
“I don’t need a bodyguard.” Katie’s small face would have scared a pit bull.
Cain didn’t give a damn if she wasn’t happy. He intended to find his brother with her help, whether she liked it or not.
“We’ll take my car,” he said as she rose from the couch.
“Hold on.” Kas turned Tanis’s laptop until Katie could see the screen. He tapped into the team’s cloud server. “I think this will clear a few things up.”
A picture of Cain opened beside rows of colored tables. He crossed his arms, guessing what his brother planned.
“See this? It’s his biometric reading, GPS location, and the time and date signature,” Kas said. “He’s told you the truth. All of us are monitored through special wiring in our earpieces.”
“What for?” Katie peeked at the monitor, then frowned. “He could take off the earpiece.”
“True, but he wouldn’t. We have to keep tabs on each other in case we need backup. If his earpiece is removed or turned off, a signal is received here. We’d know.”
She leaned closer to the screen and nibbled her bottom lip, but Cain could almost see her mind working overtime.
“I didn’t kill Ray Washington.” He jutted his chin and glared at her. “The data proves I was nowhere near him so lay off the attitude. Let’s go.”
Cain turned on his heel and made it to the door before Kas caught up. The others were talking in low voices, but his brother’s expression told him this conversation was theirs alone.
“I know,” Kas whispered. “Don’t you dare try to lie to me.”
Blood rushed to Cain’s heart, speeding his pulse. He glanced at Tanis, Jarrid, and Nesty, but the three were now talking to Katie, who gestured to him and shook her head. He stared at Kas and couldn’t speak.
“If it is Abel, that’s your story to tell, but I won’t keep this quiet long. You get two days. Two; then I’ve got to tell the others.”
Cain gave a quick nod.
“One more thing,” Kas said, checking over his shoulder. “I finally caught a look inside Katie’s head. Her big secret? She’s a burglar. She was robbing the house when the councilman returned with the killer.”
Chapter Seven
Abel viewed the storm clouds rolling across the Detroit skyline. They subdued the neon blaze from the casinos dotting Jefferson Avenue far below him. Through the haze of exhausts, the major roadway cut through downtown, taking rush-hour drivers out to their suburban homes and bringing tourists in to taste the city’s nightlife.
The bank of windows in the penthouse suite afforded a perfect observation point of Belle Isle; the island was in the distance, partially obscured by the storm. He stared at the location as if the strength of his gaze alone could burn away the cloud cover.
His brother lived upon that strip of land.
Safe. Protected.
Ah, but no longer ignorant. He allowed himself a tight grin.
Abel dragged his finger down the flat surface of his dagger. The cold steel gleamed under the approaching starlight, cleansed of that snake man’s blood.
The day had ended, but the night, he knew, would come with another assignment from the Renegades through Dravyn, the dark elf sorcerer who fancied himself an equal with their employers. The fool was just another pawn. Well connected in this city of humans and Others, but a game piece nonetheless. Like him, Dravyn was merely a mercenary.
Rain pelted the thick glass, further marring his view. Abel rolled the dagger handle between his palms. The death of one shifter politician had provided his employers with their objective, and he with his own goal. To the police, the markings he’d left carved in the corpse would appear as insignificant scratches. Of course, it was not meant for their eyes. Only one person would understand.
Cain.
Abel slammed his fist against the thick glass, which cracked from the force. He was closer than ever to facing his twin again, and the anticipation was heady stuff. There had been no guarantee Cain would see the message firsthand, yet according to Dravyn’s connection on the police force, he had read it personally. Satisfied by the news, Abel had imagined many scenarios of his twin’s reaction to having his dead brother return.
Maybe Cain had clutched the black space where his heart should be and felt remorse, or better, guilt.
Maybe he’d dropped to his knees and sobbed like the pathetic bitch he was.
The soft snick of the front door opening pulled Abel’s attention back to his surroundings. With his left hand, he tightened his grip on the dagger. Using his right thumb near his rib cage, he unsnapped the clip holding the gun. He kept his eyes fixed on the impressive view of a night-covered Detroit, but his head tipped to the right, ears tuned to his approaching visitor.
At the unhurried pace of the other man, Abel relaxed. It was only Dravyn. As the dark elf stepped into the main room, he returned his attention to the city.
“Did they bring me here to work, or to stay in an expensive cage?” He hated the penthouse, but the location was the closest he could find to the Stronghold.
Dravyn strolled over to the bank of windows and peered down. “The mission went well. Washington’s dead, and the police have no leads.”
He took a brief look at the dark elf whose purple-black skin accented the bright white of his hair and his orange eyes. One would think the Renegades would deal with Abel directly. After all, he’d been saved, raised, and trained by them. He was a freelance killer, but the fallen angels demanded he obey and come when ordered. Still, they were the closest thing to family he’d had after…
A quick turn of his neck, and Abel cracked the bones on each side. He didn’t do family. He didn’t do warm memories. The Renegades had made Dravyn his handler on this mission, in a show of good faith with the lowlife. While he hated the subservient role, Abel was here for one thing and one thing only—to level as much pain upon his twin as possible. For centuries, that had been his goal, but for some reason his saviors had ordered him to stay away. Until now. The Renegades could whore him out to the entire underworld for all he cared, as long as they didn’t get in th
e way of his vengeance.
Dravyn smacked the flat side of a thick envelope to Abel’s chest. He glared at the envelope and the dark hand still holding it. The elf was courting death.
“The Washington matter also accomplished your personal objective,” Dravyn said, pulling his hand away in annoyance. “The Bound Ones are investigating the murder.”
The elf knew Abel had left a message for Cain and had even warned him what would happen if his vendetta backfired. The assassin brotherhood would come down on him hard. Since Abel had no intention of sharing details about his personal agenda with the asshole, the elf could guess away.
“Mastema is en route to Detroit,” Dravyn said as he slipped his hand into his pocket.
The news mildly interested Abel. The leader of the Renegades hadn’t surfaced in over three hundred years, presumably because of Heaven’s bull’s-eye on Mastema’s back. If the Renegade chose to show himself, Abel didn’t care.
“The details of his arrival are closely guarded,” the elf said, sounding a little smug. “Strictly need to know.”
Abel flared his Grace and allowed the power to spark behind his eyes. “That is the second minor insult you’ve tossed my way. One more and I’ll show you what happens when my feelings get hurt.”
“In this relationship, half-breed, I’m the one on top.” The fucking elf smirked at him. “Before Mastema shows up, he would be most appreciative if you’d finish killing the rest of those supernatural losers on the council.”
The elf shoved the brown envelope at Abel again. This time he accepted it, but only because he’d already chosen a day in the very near future to deal with his handler.
The contents were as expected—dossiers on each member on the Council for Supernatural Affairs. The Council had power in the supernatural community, power the fallen angels wanted to control. Then he tugged open the flap on a thin red folder.
Motherfucking pay dirt.
This was why he put up with Dravyn’s shit. One by one, he stared at the pictures of The Bound Ones. The men would be dangerous to take on as a team, but he’d already thought of that possibility. He skimmed the details typed on the cover sheets.
Abel strolled over to an armchair and settled into the thick cushions. He committed each Nephilim’s face and details to memory before he turned his full attention to the final member of The Bound.
Cain. Nephilim. Father deceased. Mother deceased. Brother deceased.
Red flashed across Abel’s vision. The destruction of his family merited a single-word description, a mere blip in history. He relaxed his hand to keep from crushing the dossier and locked his gaze on the photo of his twin as his mind slipped into the past.
…
Cain bolted like a hare toward the clashing angels and their father, ignoring Abel and their mother’s cry.
“I will bring him back,” he said, ready to sprint after his brother.
A firm grip on his arm prevented Abel from moving.
“No.” His mother’s eyes were blown wide, her voice panicked. “I will return for Cain once I know one of my sons is safe.”
Before he could protest, she tugged Abel toward their small house. He twisted with all his might, but he couldn’t break free, and was forced to stumble away. He could no longer see Cain.
Did Mother expect him to cower in a corner while the village was attacked? He was every bit the warrior his father and brother were. He would fight, not run.
With one strong pull, Abel broke his mother’s grip. “Remain here. I shall return.”
A sob burst from his mother’s throat, wrenching his heart in two. He stopped at the open door and regarded her tear-streaked face. Shame struck him. True, he should go and defend the village as Cain had, but he could not abandon her. His gaze darted around the room as he tried to find a spot to hide her.
Abel reached up and pushed aside the thick blond hair bunched at her neck. He loved to help her brush it each night before she slept.
“Please don’t cry.”
His mother’s head lifted, her eyes seeming to search the ceiling. “God of All, allow me this one boy. Please. Do not take them both.”
Abel could not leave her grief stricken and frightened. “Come, Mother. Show me where we will hide.”
“You were always a good son.”
…
His mother’s words faded as Abel stared at the photograph in his hand. His twin’s features matched his own to such a degree the unobservant would not tell them apart. He was counting on that small advantage.
“The mission?” Dravyn asked, annoying and persistent as a fly on manure.
He had forgotten the elf was in the room. “Did you get my stuff?”
“The items you requested are in the trunk of your rental.”
Without looking up, Abel flipped to a second photo of his brother. “My fee?”
“Agreed to by Rahab, Mastema’s second. You kill who we want, and your sibling rivalry can play out.”
The third photo was of Cain exiting The Bound Ones’ headquarters.
“On my way over, my man outside the island phoned in. He saw your brother leave with a hot redheaded woman in tow.”
Abel’s blood chilled in his veins. “What woman?”
“Who cares?”
Abel leaned forward, eyes narrowed on his brother’s image. He flipped to the information sheet and reread the dossier on his twin carefully, but there was no mention of a female acquaintance.
“Who was she?”
Dravyn shrugged and picked at his fingernails.
Abel ground his molars hard. “The terms of my arrangement with the Renegades means you provide information.” He uncoiled his Grace, again flaring his eyes in a way that told his prick partner he tread on dangerous ground. “I want to know everything about her within twenty-four hours. Her business with my brother. Friends. Family. Everything.”
Dravyn returned the hard gaze leveled at him. “And you are my Nephilim bitch boy, per my terms with your benefactors.” The elf’s palms were turned inward, darts of greenish-blue sparks coating the surface. “Which means you follow my orders. You kill who I say, when I say. Are we clear?”
Abel went silent. The elf could work dark magic, which would make their inevitable fight most interesting. “The woman is an anomaly. I don’t like anomalies.”
“And I don’t care if he’s spanking her ass twice a week. You have a job to do.”
Killing weak politicians wasn’t a job. It was wholesale slaughter. Abel was too skilled for such a low task and the elf knew it.
“The Renegades think you’re some hotshot killer. You know what I think?” Dravyn leaned close. “I think you’re playing our employers. You don’t give a damn about their goals, only your own. And that, half-breed, makes you an anomaly.”
He’d never admit the elf was right. Abel nestled into the chair, but held Dravyn’s indignant gaze. Working for the Renegades was always about this moment. Always about his twin. He’d complete their pansy mission only because he’d waited so long to be allowed this close to Cain. Now, in this city, he’d avenge his mother and father, but first, his brother would feel the loss of his female companion. He would learn time did not let pain fade. It grew stronger.
Dravyn checked his watch. “Those council members aren’t going to die without help. Get to work, half-breed.”
Abel listened to the elf’s departure and glanced at the pictures on his lap. He picked up the photo of Cain and crushed it in his fist.
Chapter Eight
Katie bounced her right leg over and over while she watched the city zip by, still mystified at how she’d ended up being escorted home by Cain, of all people. His proximity in the SUV had her muscles tight and perspiration sticking her T-shirt to her back. She was pretty damn sure The Bound Ones were clueless on what to do next, but apparently saddling her with the one team member she didn’t like wasn’t a big deal to them.
Finding the real killer was their problem. She’d done her part. She’d begged to
pack a few things at home, and they’d relented. Once there, her next steps involved finding a way to get rid of him, selling the goods, dropping off the payment, and hiding with her friends at her family’s cabin. She could totally swing this.
The SUV squealed around another curve, and Katie slammed her right foot down on an invisible brake. She shot him a death glance. Cain drove like stop signs existed to warn pedestrians he was on the road.
“Let me explain what strikes me as surreal in this situation.” She relaxed her leg and angled herself to better view his profile. “I’m the chick who wrongly fingered you as the bad guy. Why would you volunteer to be anywhere near me?”
A low curse escaped the Nephilim’s mouth, but he didn’t face her.
“We needed to talk, and this was the easiest way to have our conversation without—” Cain’s mouth tightened.
Katie nibbled her thumbnail, a nervous habit she hated. Her insides trembled, and she worried the butterflies reacted more to his good looks than to her fright. Attractive was attractive. Her gaze followed the trail of his right ear down, under his strong chin. Once again, his lips snared her attention.
“If I don’t feel like talking, are you going to mojo me again?”
The SUV screeched to a stop, flinging her forward in her seat belt.
“I didn’t mojo you. Not once.” Cain’s hands strangled the steering wheel. “You have a problem with me because of the killer. I’m not him, so drop the scared-damsel shit when you’re with me.”
The anger in his voice left her cold—and pissed off. “How do I know you haven’t tried to control my head? You’re grouchy and touchy and…”
Cain briefly glanced at her as he drove. “Trust me. If I was in that stubborn head of yours, you’d know.” He grumbled something she didn’t catch. “How’d you like to be blamed for a murder you didn’t commit?”
The impact of his words made Katie sink into her seat. Two days ago, potentially being fingered as Ray’s killer had sent her running to her brother and then to The Bound Ones. To him. She peeked at the side of his face, expecting it to morph into Giant Guy’s at any second.
Angel Kin Page 6
