“If you slicked back your hair, then we’d be trying too hard.”
“It’s obvious you know your shit.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s sexy.”
Her blush was adorable. “I was more tech support, but I worked really hard to be competent at every aspect of my job.”
He had no doubt. Opening the door, he stepped out and stretched, using the time to study their surroundings.
Sierra pushed her damp hair back. “We can get some sunglasses at the gas station on our way to the thrift store.”
Sunglasses and snacks were purchased without incident. They only passed a couple of pedestrians tucked into their hoodies on the way to the thrift store. It was sweater weather, but Sierra didn’t complain. She walked like a boss, her hand in his. Their silent alarm if she spotted a demon was a firm two squeezes on his hand. She hadn’t used it yet.
At the thrift store, they picked out new pants and a hoodie for each of them. She found a beanie that smelled like it’d just been laundered and he discovered a black hat with the tags still on.
The cashier was a lady in her sixties with salt-and-pepper hair and sleeve tattoos down to her hands.
“My phone got busted,” Boone told her. “Is there a place that’ll let me call for a ride?”
The cashier inspected him, chewing her wad of gum with her front teeth. “I can call a taxi. I don’t do that Uber shit.”
Relief filled his smile. “I’d really appreciate it.”
“Mmhmm.” She grabbed a landline phone and hit speed dial. Sierra pretended to study a tray of random kitchen utensils on the end of the counter, but she was secretly watching the five other shoppers in the store. “Yeah, got a couple that needs a ride.” She put the phone under her chin. “Where ya goin’?”
“Sam’s Town.” They’d change the location once they got in the cab.
The cashier hung up, bagged their items, and handed the bag over. “Can’t wait in here.”
“Appreciate it.” He’d rather wait inside, but the goal was to be discreet.
Taking Sierra’s hand, they walked to the corner of the parking lot, nonchalant as could be.
Sierra dropped to a squat and dug out her maroon hoodie and beanie. She handed him the hat and his gray hoodie. Warmer and more incognito than before, they waited.
Ten minutes later a taxi pulled up. Sierra stood and watched the car pull into a spot right in front of the thrift store. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed twice. Then she put her mirrored sunglasses on like she had an eternity.
Fuck. The driver? If they sent him away, it’d raise an alarm. Same if they changed their drop-off. He scratched his beard. He should’ve gotten a razor from that gas station and shaved as soon as he got into a bathroom.
The driver’s gaze jerked from window to window. Boone opened the back door and let Sierra in.
“Sam’s Town?” the driver said as he put the car in reverse and stomped on the gas before Boone was fully inside and closed the door.
Boone tipped over but managed to curl his legs in and shut the door before it swiped the car next to it. “Yes, Sam’s Town.”
Sierra clung to the passenger door. The doors locked automatically after a certain speed, which the driver obtained before they left the lot.
The identification on the back of the headrest looked like a less maniacal version of the driver. He was calm, smiling. The name was Hanson.
Boone gripped the handle attached to the back of the front seat. He exchanged a look with Sierra, but she only lifted a shoulder, afraid to let go of the door’s armrest. Hanson remained paranoid, but he ignored them as he squealed around corners and floored it on long stretches. They passed a sign that read forty-five. The speedometer read seventy.
Times like this, Boone reconsidered his lack of weapons. He and Sierra were in the middle of a large city with only some cash and a phone. He might have nightmares if he strapped a sidearm on again, but at least he’d have one if he needed something more than the sharp edge of a knife—which he didn’t have either.
At a four-way stop, they jerked against their seat belts. The ride was almost as bad as the chase through Henderson. Boone didn’t know his way around Vegas either, so the driver could be taking them straight to the demon’s den, or he could actually be going to the hotel and casino Boone had picked from a brochure he’d seen in the motel lobby.
Tension ratcheted up in the cab as they nearly sideswiped a couple of parked vehicles. During one turn, the wheels of the cab bumped over the curb and the back end bottomed out when the wheels dropped back down. The only thing pleasant about the ride was the artificial vanilla smell permeating the cushions.
When a sprawling building with a huge glittering sign that read Sam’s Town came into view, Boone took his first full breath of the ride.
The driver slammed into another curb following the path to the giant overhang. He slammed to a stop at a set of double doors. The meter totaled at thirty dollars and seventy-five cents, but the driver clutched the steering wheel and eyed all the people going in and out of the casino.
“Sixty bucks,” Hanson said.
“Uh . . .” Boone peeled three twenties off. Would it draw more attention not to fight it? They needed the money. But Sierra’s safety was paramount and he couldn’t do that if he pissed the driver off and the man crashed them into a building. He handed the money over. “Sure, man.”
Boone lifted his chin toward Sierra’s door. He wanted her out first just in case the driver gunned it again. Boone’s ass could be the one to get dragged out of the parking lot.
Sierra scrambled out. His foot had just hit the pavement when the click of the gearshift sounded. Shit.
Sierra yanked on his arm and he flew out the door as the car roared away. The driver swerved enough to get the door to latch. It wasn’t closed tightly, but it shouldn’t take out another vehicle.
They stood in the middle of the loading zone, staring at the car.
Sierra adjusted her beanie. “That was close. I don’t think the symaster cared about anything other than hanging on to his host.”
He hoped the driver won the fight. “We can’t stay here.”
Sierra pulled him toward the parking lot. It was large enough that they could branch out in any direction. “We can find a close motel for cheap enough.”
They walked through the RV lot, using the big campers to hide them. Walking along Boulder Highway would be easier, but with the high volume of traffic and the full light of day, it was best to take a longer, more discreet way to another hotel.
They walked two or three miles, taking quieter roads while staying somewhat parallel with the main highway. They spotted a motel and veered for it.
“We should’ve braved the highway and gone to Walmart,” he muttered. They hadn’t grabbed more than a snack and a bottle of water at the gas station. He was tired and dirty and he had to get food and water into Sierra.
He went inside to check out a room. The rate was cheaper than he’d expected, but that didn’t solve their money issues. He had more in his account, but once that ran out, he had no idea what they’d do.
When he had a key card in his possession, he led Sierra to room 103. Mentally crossing his fingers as he opened the door, he blew out his relief. “Looks like a nice room.” Smelled like it too.
“I’ll find a place to order from.” She went to the little binder of information and flipped through the pages. “Hey, Boone?”
He flipped the deadbolt and crossed to the bed. The white bedspread looked like it was safe to sit on. He sank onto a soft mattress. “Yeah?”
“Do you trust me?” The bed dipped as she sat on the edge.
He stretched out and propped his hand on his head. “What do you mean?”
“I have an idea, but you have to trust me.” Her grave expression made him sit up. “It could be a really bad idea, but . . . I think it might work.”
“Sierra—”
“I don’t need an answer now. We can eat first.
Get some rest. Then I’ll tell you my plan.”
Chapter 15
The second taxi ride was safer than the first one. Sierra paid the driver with cash and stuffed her hands in her hoodie, staring at the building in front of her.
Nighttime had fallen and the neon glow of the sign managed to look elegant, inviting. In another reality, she’d strut inside wearing a skintight cocktail dress and sky-high heels. Her hair would be slicked back with more than faucet water and she’d have a killer smoky eye.
But this was her reality. Her new leggings were checked, and paired with her maroon hoodie, she looked like a lost college student, like she’d bypassed the campus bar and found herself at a goth rave.
Fall From Grace.
A three-story warehouse building that should be a dump was a popular club far away from the Strip. There was a line outside. Humans. Not many were possessed. Sylphs skittered at their feet, having the time of their long, little demon lives. Many humans had visible rose tattoos. Disciples, Jameson had called them.
This club had been his. His words and his promises had recruited all of these people. She was pregnant with his kid and Andy wanted her.
She could work with that.
The same self-disgust she’d experienced with Jameson reared up inside of her. She tried to shake it off. This was different. She was using her connection to him for a much different reason.
Her argument failed when she recalled how she purposely hadn’t asked for the picture in Boone’s wallet back.
No. She wouldn’t think about that. Boone had said the more truth she could work into her lie, the better. The picture was too sentimental, veered too far from the truth she was prepared to seed into her lies.
As she strode to the front of the line, grumbling built until a couple of girls shouted at her.
“Hey, back of the line.”
“Think they’re gonna let you in?”
Sierra ignored them and didn’t stop until she reached the tall bouncer who was dressed in black from his tie to his shiny toes. She only tilted her head and let him look at her. His perma-sneer died.
Yep. She was the petite blonde with blue eyes he’d probably been told to keep an eye out for.
“I don’t want any trouble,” she said, infusing her voice with all the steel of a warrior. “But if any of your little assholes touch me on my way to talk to him, I will destroy them.”
The sneer was back. “Fallen.” Spittle flew out with the word. Murmurs of what she was traveled down the line of people and the idle chatter fell quiet.
He didn’t see her punch coming. The thing with being short that she’d learned early—junk shots were her friend when she faced a taller male.
With a cry-moan he dropped to his knees. More men and women in suits, all dressed in black with an earbud in one ear, swarmed her. In less than a minute, there were five other bouncers. They must’ve all been stationed by the entrance, or the first floor at least. Noted.
Sierra waited. She could fight them all. They outnumbered her, but they also didn’t have her training or experience. But she shouldn’t engage in that type of combat.
“We can make you pay without killing you, fallen,” one of the women bouncers sneered.
“Tell Andy I’m pregnant and see what he says.” She infused her words with enough attitude to make them think of course Andy would covet the child of two fallen. Crossing her arms like she wasn’t scared that any of them would touch her, she said, “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
The bouncer’s eyes widened and she paused, her gaze going distant. Was Andy speaking in her ear?
The rest of the bouncers backed off and she took the time to study them. Their suit coats hid whether they carried weapons, but the customers had to go through a metal detector.
Sierra stood stone-still, but the bouncers fidgeted. They wanted a fight. They wanted trouble. They wanted to take on a fallen.
These humans were playing a game they didn’t know the rules of. Some of the poor souls in the line behind her wanted to belong to something, to be a part of a group when they’d been kicked out or ignored before. But the bouncers? They wanted the power to hurt people. Sierra didn’t feel bad for what they had coming.
As a warrior, it hadn’t been up to her to question any of the conflict. Save the humans, that was their goal. As a fallen, she still wanted to do her part—but it didn’t include helping any of the fucks who allowed Fall From Grace to keep functioning. Only she could do that. Like Boone had said, undercover work was about the right person, right role, right time. They had no choice on the time. Any further along in her pregnancy and she’d be even more physically limited. After the baby was born, she’d have a defenseless child to worry about. But there was no doubt she was ideal for this situation, and the only one who could play this role.
The bouncer woman gulped and nodded. She avoided looking at Sierra. “Come with me.”
As soon as Sierra stepped inside, the bass of the dance music pounded through her chest. A throng of bodies packed the dance floor and the bar. The tables and the booths in the shadows were full of people having all definitions of a good time.
Her skin crawled. She wanted a shower. Scrub the demon stink off. This place was infested. People were infested. It was disgusting.
She gritted her teeth as the woman led her through the crowd, another three bouncers walking in front of her like the prow of a ship cutting through an ocean of people. Only Sierra and the woman bouncer who’d confronted her loaded into an elevator and rode to the second floor.
The space was dark when the doors dinged open. Sparsely decorated, but still elegant.
The woman didn’t talk as she led Sierra to a conference room. Light spilled from the open door. The air grew heavier the closer she got. Two more bodyguards outside the conference room. None of the bodyguards were possessed, and even sylphs left them alone. Noted.
The woman stepped aside and ushered Sierra in.
Taking her time entering, Sierra cataloged everything—and there wasn’t much. A utilitarian conference room with a large table surrounded by plush office chairs. The shrewd man at the head of the table pushed back and folded his hands on his lap. An open laptop in front of him cast a glow over his face that gave him an ethereal look.
What she wouldn’t give to get a hold of that computer. A guy like Andy would have to track his accomplishments, and since he couldn’t spread the news of everything he’d done, it had to be cataloged somewhere. Her bet was on the computer. He might not spell out the outcomes for what he’d done, but he’d have meticulous records. If he’d been involved in the stockpiling of angel fire with Stede, there had to be at least one spreadsheet.
She kept her expression even, only allowing a slight tic in her brow to show. “Andy?”
She didn’t have any doubts regarding his identity. Without the expensive pinstripe navy blue suit, the styled hair, or the ruthless, intelligent gleam to his eyes, he’d look like a geeky accountant. It had probably been easy for him to dupe Jameson.
His perfunctory smile was quick. “I believe we can skip the introductions. But I do admit, I wasn’t expecting you to come here willingly.”
She pulled a chair out and plopped down. “Well, I wasn’t expecting to be broke as hell and chased by the entire underworld.” She tilted her head from side to side. “Actually, I was expecting to be broke as hell. The other part was highly inconvenient.”
“I imagine. Especially if you’re expecting?” His voice hitched up at the end. The idea of a baby excited him.
She’d go ahead and make his day and add to the sourness in her gut. She was doing this for the baby. Her child wasn’t going to live in fear of being discovered like she had. “It’s Jameson’s.”
Satisfaction filled his eyes. “You two worked against Stede.”
She dipped her head.
That earned another flash of a smile. “Well done.”
“I thought you’d mourn losing a contact in Numen.”
“That was
Jameson’s goal. Not mine.”
“And what is yours?” He didn’t answer. It was her turn for a serene smile. “It was worth a shot.”
“Why are you here, fallen?”
“Money,” she said with a laugh, as if it was obvious. “I’m a prisoner here or a prisoner with my former team. They don’t trust me and can’t wait to pretend I don’t exist again. You have Jameson’s money.”
A beat of surprise made it through his placid expression. “I didn’t take you for greedy.”
“I’ve been forced to become a realist. I have no money. No home. I’m having a baby. That baby is Jameson’s and whatever he had should be passed down.”
“By that logic, I should turn everything over to his son Julian, the one you call Jagger.”
He thought he’d called her bluff. “I mean, go ahead. I’m sure Jagger won’t turn it away. The team would love to shut this place down. But you don’t want that, do you?”
“The club . . . serves a purpose.” Andy leaned forward, his folded hands now on the table. “So, what exactly do you want? You can’t expect me to trust you, or give you free rein while you stay here.”
“I’ll take Jameson’s old place. It’s better than the cell you’d probably have thrown me in once you caught me. I want to be able to go to the doctor when I need to. And I want a midwife in case this little peanut has wings.”
Sick excitement flared in his eyes. She’d wanted her baby to be blissfully human looking before, but now it was imperative.
“A midwife. Interesting. I can arrange for a team of doctors to be brought in.”
“So I get to stay?”
He tsked. “Ms. Cormorant. There’ll be conditions.”
She hated that he knew her last name. The corruption had exposed more of Numen than her kind had thought.
Andy had shown himself capable of much more. The more she could prove he’d done, that Jameson hadn’t been the only brains behind his machinations, the safer her team would be, or any angel who went after Andy. Her kind hunted demons. Hurting a human was a hard limit, killing one worse. She refused to let that little bastard be responsible for another angel’s wings.
Demon Fire (The Angel Fire Book 3) Page 18
