Angel Bait (Angel Assassins #1) (9 page)

“I don’t need to read minds to know what you’re thinking, young lady,” Cain said. “Let me give you some advice about my boy, Jarrid.”

Ionie craved whatever information she could get on her mysterious acquaintance.

“He holds honor and loyalty above anything else in the world,” Cain said. “He’s an A-grade Alpha, so he doesn’t back down from shit. You follow me so far?”

She nodded, a ball of unease circling in the pit of her stomach. Cain’s voice turned cold. “You get one shot, like Russian Roulette, to fuck him over. Afterwards, you’ll wish you could move to another planet. When you think about doing something he won’t like, remember what breathing feels like and why you can’t live with your organs outside your body.”

• • •

Jarrid maneuvered through the warehouse. The meeting with Tanis and the Directorate lay heavy on his mind, a boulder he couldn’t dislodge. Then there was Ionie. A spark of guilt flashed through him, but he shook it off. An assassin didn’t let doubt stand in the way of a mission. Hell, he never balked at what needed to be done and what tools to use.

His movements slowed. Ionie wasn’t a tool. She trusted him, liked him. He felt a slight hollowness open in his chest. He recalled her excitement when they’d met. Angels — assholes that they are — fascinated her, and he’d served up a heaping slice of angel cake with sprinkles with his lie. If he could get the Renegade without involving an outsider he’d do it. He wanted to believe the lie anyway.

“Shit.”

What would he have to say to keep the curious reporter occupied long enough to find his target? He wasn’t prepared to talk about his childhood, his parents, his training. Political beliefs? Who was he kidding? He didn’t give a shit about politics — or anything beyond name, rank, and shoe size.

He pictured her and his agitation grew. A blind man could see she was gorgeous, and his eyesight was perfect. Why couldn’t she be a hideous wreck of a woman? Then he recalled the sweet smile she’d bestowed on Cain.

Of course she’d fall for the charming prick
.

“Ouch. Way to cut a brother down,” Kas said. He leaned against the game room’s door.

“Get out of my head,” Jarrid said with a deep growl.

“Couldn’t help myself. The human’s an eye opener, isn’t she?” Jarrid’s chest constricted. Kas could read anyone he had in his line of sight.

How long has he been watching?

“Scope this,” Jarrid said, imagining a rash of horrific ways to punish the eavesdropper. A picture of Kas writhing in a tub of acid earned him a sneer. “Stay out of my head.”

“That’s just wrong.”

Jarrid flipped him off. “Where is she?”

“She and Cain went upstairs, holding hands. He saved the bedroom tour for last.”

Kas backed into the game room, leaving him fuming. He bounded up the steps four at a time. Outside Cain’s room, he forced himself to calm. He walked in, unannounced.

Ionie lay on her stomach across Cain’s massive bed, her feet crossed in the air, swaying. He found his brother standing a few yards away at a bookshelf.

“Busted,” she said, her voice sing-song. When she hid her face in the bed sheets and giggled, Jarrid clenched his fists. He wanted to sit beside her and share her amusement. Why? He had no fucking clue.

“She used some kind of mind trick on me,” Cain said, his eyes sparkling. “I was at her mercy until you arrived.”

“What are you talking about?” Jarrid asked, annoyed.

Ionie sat up and beamed at him full on. Double-wattage smile. Amused eyes. He froze in place, struck dumb by the open affection rolling off her — toward him — in waves.

“Smarty pants is looking for traces of nephilim in modern lore,” she said. “From what I see, he’s full of it. No one has written a word about your kind in a zillion years. Means my feature story is going to be insanely popular when I’m finished.”

Her story. Of course
.

Work would cause the glow blooming from her skin like a star gone supernova. Jarrid hid his disappointment like a seasoned pro. He etched a smile on his face.

• • •

Jarrid smiled at her, open and bright. Unfettered warmth uncoiled inside Ionie. His regard made her want to do backflips on the bed.

Oh!
She was still on Cain’s king size. She hopped off. The move wasn’t graceful, but she felt less loopy looking at Jarrid once she was on her feet.

“When do you want to start our journey into the quagmire of humanity?” She wrinkled her forehead and peeked through her lashes at the half-angel. “I’m not sure how to proceed.”

“Neither am I,” Jarrid said, rubbing his jaw. “This is unfamiliar territory.”

“We could head to one of the bars where a few of my regular sources hang out. Don’t get your hopes up, though. We could be several beers in before one of them shows.”

“Or you could tell me the location and I’ll go alone,” he said, folding his arms.

She wasn’t going to let him slip between her fingers. “Let me explain how a partnership works. Partner A doesn’t try to ditch Partner B. Then Partner B won’t have to dream up a revenge scheme against Partner A.”

Jarrid quirked his lips. She ordered herself not to cross the room and bite him. “What if Partner A tied Partner B to the bed she was just laying on?”

“Silk cord or pantyhose?” Ionie turned at the sound of Cain clearing his throat. “I should have guessed you’d have some ideas on the subject.”

“Your words cut deep.” Cain pressed his palm to his heart. She rolled her eyes at his stage actor routine. “Do you know how difficult it is to contain centuries of indescribably brilliant thoughts? Believe me, the burden is not one Jarrid shares.”

Jarrid barked a hearty laugh. “Go track down Kas and ask him about the brilliant thoughts I gave him earlier for pissing me off.”

His teasing banter floored her.

So, he did have a sense of humor.
Jarrid’s sexy factor broke through the glass ceiling she’d invented.
If he helps kittens out of trees, we’re getting hitched.

“I was only going to suggest a change of venue, my man,” Cain said, grinning. “Talk about the mission a little. Besides, Ionie might enjoy observing you with other people.”

The idea wasn’t half bad. Jarrid and his brothers were intentionally rough with each other. How was he around everyday people? She wasn’t sure her contacts would warm to him. “Where would we go?”

“Ever been to Jimmy’s Barbecue on Six Mile?” Cain asked.

Ionie grinned at a memory. “Best damn ribs in the state.”

“Ah, a fellow connoisseur,” Cain said, adding an eyebrow waggle. “The sauce is a sin.”

She giggled at his Groucho Marx impression. She liked Cain. So far, all of the brothers had etched their initials on her ‘good guys’ list. She scratched in Tanis’ name, sensing the angel had earned some leeway with his injured wings.

“Looks like I’m driving,” Jarrid said.

When he turned and opened the door, Ionie couldn’t help herself. She ran over to Cain and wrapped him in a quick hug. Then she was out of his room and down the hall before he could react. For some reason, she didn’t want to know what Jarrid made of it.

She neared the staircase and waited for him to join her. He approached with the finesse of a Siberian Tiger. Thick, powerful legs on a sure gait. Torso of sensuous muscles. Arms of harnessed strength. Worship-worthy face.

“You’re staring,” he said. The majestic body of her sultry dreams left a gap no larger than a palm width between them.

Ionie prayed he wouldn’t close himself off. She peeked at his face, marveled by his expression.

Jarrid’s luscious mouth held a rakish curve. Tufts of brown-black hair tumbled over his shoulders, a dark overlay to his tan-touched skin. His tilted head told her he awaited a reply.

God deserved a gold medal for craftsmanship.

“Am I?” She beamed up at him. “You sure I was staring? Maybe I was skimming.”

One of his eyebrows did a close imitation of Mr. Spock.

“Fine, I stared.” A laugh slipped from her. “How do I get to your truck?”

He nodded toward the entrance door. “Wait out front. I’ll pull around.”

Jimmy’s Barbecue was a Detroit landmark. One bite of the restaurant’s tender, juicy ribs and a man would try to marry the plate. Ionie cherished the family owned business for more than the secret sauce. She and Grams visited every few months to splurge on a full slab while swapping stories with the owner.

Now, she entered the twenty-seat eatery with a colossus in tow. The restaurant exuded a down-home vibe. Cluttered walls displayed framed photos of the owner with celebrities. Don Cornelius, Muhammad Ali, and the entire Detroit Red Wings hockey team dined at Jimmy’s. So had Aretha Franklin, Don Ho, and Chuck Norris. One lonely corner housed a pinball machine.
Who’d stop eating to whack a metal ball around?

The human clientele cast quick glances then returned to their meals and conversations.

“I expected a few gasps,” Jarrid said in a low voice. “Maybe some fainting or a scream.”

“Nope.” Ionie flashed him a smile. “These folks keep their noses out of other people’s business, but at Jimmy’s, everyone is welcome and no one blinks twice if you’re not human. For all they know, you play for the Pistons.”

Jarrid surveyed the room, staring at every face as if committing them to memory.

“Um, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Observing.” His eyes shifted to the restaurant itself.

Ionie used the moment to indulge in the eye candy. Jarrid didn’t seem the type of guy who’d be picked to work with strangers. Cain or Kas, sure. Jarrid was a tad too rough around the edges and middle as far as people skills went.

She peeked at his clothes. He’d grabbed a jacket before leaving the warehouse, which wasn’t odd. Now, however, suspicious shapes bulged under the leather from his arms to his hips. How long had he disappeared before joining her at the truck? She tried to remember.

“Something wrong?” he asked, motioning to an empty table at the back of the restaurant.

She shook her head.

“Never been here,” he said, shocking her with a boyish grin. “We get it delivered.”

“You’ve allowed delivery guys into your fortress of solitude?”

A too-cute smile dimpled Jarrid’s cheeks. “No. They drop the bags at the entrance to the island. We leave payment in an envelope.”

“You’re serious about your privacy,” she said. “But you and the others go out in public. vzyl You know the city well, if those short cuts we drove to get here are a clue.”

“We do.”

Her reply was interrupted by the booming voice of the restaurant’s owner.

“Well, well, well. I ain’t seen you or yo’ granny in here in a dog’s age. Where you been hiding yo’self?”

Ionie launched herself into the open arms of Jimmy Stewart, inhaling the smoked-meat aroma clinging to his skin and clothing. The dark-skinned Texan was the father she’d always wanted. He took care of his customers as if they were family.

“I’ve been working some odd hours at the paper,” she said. “I promise I’ll get Grams up here, and we’ll buy two slabs to make up for it.”

“I told ya’ll yo’ money ain’t no good here,” Jimmy said, wagging his finger at her. “Only old folks suppose to lose they memory so quick.”

She hugged him again then turned to introduce Jarrid. The nephilim was on his feet, watching her.

“Damn, boy, you a big one.” Jimmy leaned back to take in the half-angel’s full height. “Hell, I can damn near retire after you pay yo’ bill.”

Jarrid’s thunderous laugh was a sonic boom, resonating in every corner of the small restaurant.

“After I charge you fo’ bustin’ out my eardrums.” Jimmy rubbed his ears.

She grinned. “This is Jarrid. He’s helping me with a story.”

Jimmy whistled before extending his hand, which Jarrid gave a quick shake. The room’s light caused his eyes to take on a luminous shimmer and she stared into them, mesmerized by the lashes fanning his skin in a thick plume.

“What you like, Jay? I got pork and beef ribs slathered up and ready to find a home in yo’ belly,” Jimmy said, flashing a toothy grin. “I don’t got no tofu, tree bark, or grass clippings. You want health food, get yo’self to the ‘burbs.”

“Ionie?” Jarrid’s questioning look surprised her.

“How hungry are you?” she asked. His lips twisted in a wry smile.

Right
. “Jimmy, please bring a sample platter. He’ll tell you to stop when he’s full.”

“Yep, I’m gonna retire this evening, I tell you right now.” Jimmy clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms in glee.

“I’ve never seen him happier.” Ionie sat down. “He enjoys cooking, but he loves feeding people more.”

“What do you enjoy?” Jarrid’s question came out of nowhere.

How to answer?
A thousand ideas crossed her mind. “I love to read. Curl up for days with my eReader and lose myself.”

“You’ve mentioned that before.”

“What about you?”

“Same.”

Her curiosity stirred. Here was her chance to learn more about the mysterious man across from her. He wasn’t a full angel, but damn, he was the closest she’d ever been to one. Her head whirred past a half-dozen boring questions, sensing the window to Jarrid’s secrets was narrow.

“Have you been to Heaven?” Seemed a safe enough choice.

He glanced at her through a fan of lashes. “I was stationed there until my assignment on Earth.”

Ionie sat up straighter. “What were you assigned to do? I mean, if it wouldn’t break some rules to tell me.”

A pregnant pause followed, but to her relief, he resumed talking.

“I find people.”

“Like a detective?”

Could he be some type of cop?

“The description is inadequate, but close enough,” he said.

Not a cop, and not quite a detective. Who else found people? Nothing popped into her head. She decided to test his openness with a question tied to her mother. “Do angels, um, visit people before they die?”

Jarrid tapped his index finger on the table in a slow, steady rhythm. “No.” A subtle flicker passed over his face. “You told Tanis you’ve never met an angel.” His cool gaze captured her. “Are you sure?”