There was a soft laugh and then he felt a gentle compression around his waist as Rachel No-Last-Name did what he’d asked. As she leaned into the back of him, her soft breasts pressed against his hard muscle and the warmth of her body was one hell of a contrast to what was doing inside of him.
He was so damn cold. Cold as the Coke he was buying.
Adrian let his head drop and braced one hand against the machine, holding them both upright.
Devina was going to kill him. If not when she was actually fucking him, then because of the aftermath: His brain wasn’t working right anymore, and as the days went by and it didn’t return normal, he was starting to worry. He didn’t think Jim knew; he worried that Eddie did—and here was the problem: He had no intention of getting benched by the powers that be again. He was a fighter and he had a personal vendetta against Devina . . . and that meant he had to pull it together.
“You know,” Rachel murmured against his shoulder, “if you wanted to feel my breasts, there’s a better way.”
He swallowed hard and put his mask back in place. Turning around in her arms, he swept her red hair off her neck and tilted her chin up. “You’re so right.”
He was utterly empty as he kissed her, but she didn’t know that, and he was so desperate to make a connection that he didn’t care.
“Adrian. . . .” As she drew out his name, he guessed she liked the way the metal bar through his tongue felt against her own.
Running his hands down her hips to her ass, he pulled her in tight to his body and tried to break through his arctic circle with her curves and the way she moved against him and the smell of her perfume and the taste of the cranberry and vodkas she’d been drinking.
Keeping to the rhythm, he punched the “diet” button and the machine coughed up another bottle.
“Come on,” he growled, grabbing her soda. “Let me introduce you to Eddie. Like I told you, you’re going to love him. Everyone loves him.”
He gave her a wink in an attempt to flirt, and going by the way she giggled, it was clear she bought the charm . . . and was really open to what she was walking into.
“You know, I’ve never done this before,” she said, as he led her down the corridor. “Well, with . . . you know.”
“Two people?” She giggled again and he smiled down at her. “That’s okay—we’ll treat you very, very well.”
This was going to work, he told himself as he got out his plastic key to the door. This
When they came up to his room, Adrian stopped, slipped the card in the slot, and opened the way just a crack. “We’ve got some company. You decent?”
Eddie’s reply was quick and annoyed. “Of course I am.”
Adrian pushed in with that manufactured smile nailed on the front door of his face. “Where are you, buddy?”
As his roommate came out from the loo, Eddie’s hard look changed the instant he saw the female.
Nooooooot so annoyed anymore. But Adrian knew the guy had a thing for redheads—which was why the lovely Rachel had been a slam dunk.
While Eddie stepped up to introduce himself, Ad went over and put his head through the open connector into Jim’s room.
The angel was sitting in front of the laptop he’d bought earlier in the day. On one side of him, there was an open box of half-eaten pizza, and on the other, a Marlboro quietly smoldered in an ashtray. In his lap, Dog was a scruffy pile of gray-and-blond-colored fur—to the point where you couldn’t tell what end was tail and what was muzzle.
Going by Jim’s frown, it was pretty clear what he was doing on the compy: He was searching for info on that girl Devina had murdered, desecrated, and hung upside down in that tub back in Caldwell—the virgin girl who had been sacrificed to protect the demon’s turf. The one Jim had tried to save . . . and been too late for.
“Jim.”
At the sound of his name, the guy who was responsible for saving the world looked up. His eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep and he was looking hollowed out—so yeah, he was pretty much what you’d expect, given how much was on his shoulders. And yet he was clearly up to the task. That spell the guy had pulled out of his ass at the brick house? Unbelievable. First try out of the gate and he did it on a oner. Eddie or Ad? Would have had to go all around the place marking the entrances to ensure proper coverage.
Kind of made you wonder what else the bastard could do.
“What’s up, Ad?” the guy said as he picked up his cig and took a draw. The exhale was slow and tired.
Adrian thumbed over his shoulder. “We’re gonna be busy for a little bit.”
“Are you, now.”
As if on cue, Rachel let out one of her giggles and right on the heels of it came a low purring growl. Which usually meant Eddie was going in for something. A kiss. A palm up. A sucking . . .
Jim’s stare narrowed. “Are you okay?”
Adrian stepped back and started to shut the door. He didn’t want Jim involved in his drama. It was one thing to be undone before Eddie—who he’d lived through hell with. Literally.
But not Jim. He liked the guy . . . trusted him . . . was willing work with him. That was it, though.
“Hold up a minute,” Heron demanded.
“I gotta go—”
“You can spare me a frickin’ minute. Something tells me they won’t go far without you.”
Adrian was having problems.
Jim could sense it clearly as the guy stood in the doorway with that faker smile on his puss and a body that was strung tight as a bridge cable. Sure, he’d appeared to be keeping shit together, but that wasn’t the truth under his Mr. Rough Guy routine, was it.
And battle fatigue was not a joke; it fractured your brain and presented a danger to yourself and others. After all, walking around with a noggin that wasn’t working right was like having a weapon in your holster that could misfire at any moment—and blow up in your hand.
“Adrian.”
“What.” The guy’s reply was not an opening for discussion. And neither was the hand with long red nails that snaked across his hip and began to drag up his shirt.
“Come in here for a sec,” Jim said, well aware he was pushing water uphill. No way the angel was going to turn away from Ms. Fancy Fingers over there.
“Little busy right now, buddy.” Adrian’s eyes were nothing but glass, like whatever lit up the inside of him had taken off for a vacation.
“This is more important.”
“FYI, I’m not a big talker. I’m a doer.”
This got yet another giggle and the shirt pushed up past the angel’s pecs . . . and then there was a pause, like the female was surprised with what she’d found. Made sense. Ad’s nipples were pierced with bars, and a gunmetal gray chain connected the set—and didn’t stop there. The links ran down his six-pack and beneath the waistband of the jeans.
Jim had pulled a hey-wait-a-minute when he’d first gotten a gander at the connect-the-dots, too.
“Look, Adrian,” he began, prepared to start in, even if it was with an audience.
Ad twisted around to the woman. “Go say ‘hi’ to Eddie for minute, honey.”
The redhead took the suggestion and ran with it, crossing over to the other guy and pulling him in for a kiss. Through the crack in the door, it was a hell of a show as Eddie maneuvered her to the bed, laid her out and covered her with his heavy body. Going by the gasping, she was in straight-up heaven as she pulled his muscle shirt—
Jim frowned and jacked forward, wondering if he was seeing right . . . and yeah, he was. Eddie’s back was heavily scarred . . . but not as in a burn or a random whipping. It was the same symbology that had been on the
