sacrificing himself.
But the shit wasn’t interested in him; he was barely a speed bump as the tremors headed downward for Jim’s pecs.
The saving grace they needed was that solution of lemon, white vinegar, hydrogen peroxide, and witch hazel, and good thing Eddie was always prepared. He came flying in from their room with a bucketful of the stuff, moving so fast it sloshed out, splashing his leathers and his World Wildlife Foundation T-shirt.
The angel swung back and then hit them with a splash, soaking their upper bodies along with the bed. And then it was cue the evac: with an ear-numbing screech, the evil took off in rush, leaving only a stinky smolder that wafted off Jim’s wet head and chest. In the wake of the departure, the savior collapsed forward, going so limp the only thing that kept him on the bed was the hold around his torso.
“Easy there,” Ad muttered, as he lay the guy out flat.
Jim opened his eyes and blinked like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing.
“It’s the ceiling,” Ad provided. “How you doing?”
“I didn’t get . . . any intel . . . from Veck.”
“And guess what—you’re not trying again.”
“What the hell . . . was that? I feel like I’ve been in a turbine.”
Eddie sat down next to them, settling Dog on his lap. “Devina’s already in DelVecchio at a very deep level.”
“Goddamn it . . . can she not cheat? Just for once.” Jim fingertipped the front of his wet shirt, pulling the second skin free of his chest. “And shit, I feel polluted.”
Adrian went to the bathroom and grabbed some towels. When he came back, he draped one over Jim and did a little work on his own head.
He didn’t mind a hard fight, as long as it was a fair one—and this business with Devina going outside the rules was getting ridiculous. Meanwhile, Jim had all but sold himself to that demon for information, and to top it off? Nigel, their coach, didn’t seem in a big hurry to throw a protest upstairs.
The whole thing sucked ass.
Reaching down, he snagged the badge and shoved it in his pocket. When Jim looked like he was going to protest, it was a case of whatever-buddy: “Sorry. You’re going to need some time before the stank is fully out of you. Touch this now? We’re going to have the same problem all over again, only worse.” He pointed his finger right into Eddie’s face. “And fuck. You.”
’Cause it was obvious there was going to be a round of no-you-don’ts from the angel.
“I’m just going to take the badge back.” Kinda. “DelVecchio wakes up with it go and he’s going to feel like he’s losing more of his mind. You want that? Good. Glad you agree.”
Before either one of them could tune up again, he went into his and Eddie’s room, and stripped down—with a struggle. Leathers were tough to get off in the first place, but with the lemony wash? Like frickin’ glue.
“Swear to me,” Eddie said from the doorway, “that you will not touch him. In any way.”
Adrian pulled on a fresh pair of fatigues and snagged the badge from his other pants. “Swear to God.”
The sound of someone trying to cough his liver up was exactly the conversation ender they needed. Jim was in for a hell of a ride, and although Eddie didn’t look like nursemaid material, the bastard was great at it—something Ad had learned firsthand.
“I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.” Adrian smiled. “Trust me.”
Eddie just rolled his eyes and went back into the other room, no doubt to hold a wastepaper basket under Jim’s heaving.
In the blink of an eye, Adrian was on the front lawn of DelVecchio’s little slice of home-sweet-home. The wind had come up and was blowing from the north, and the cold, crystal-clear Canadian air that came from over the border tingled in his sinuses.
No reason to knock. He just shifted himself into the living room, where DelVecchio was still asleep on the couch.
Placing the badge on the floor next to the guy’s gun and holster, Adrian knelt down and reached out a hand. Passing his palm over DelVecchio’s face, he lulled the man into an even deeper sleep, soothing the poor bastard.
The resulting trance revealed the truth: unfettered by consciousness, the extent of Devina’s possession was obvious: she was all over every inch of him.
They might be too late already, Ad thought as he started to circle his hand over the guy’s head.
“Hey, my man,” he whispered. “I want you to go back to last night. Into the woods. Go back to the woods. Into the woods by the motel. In and among the pine trees. You’ve parked that bike—which, P.S., would it kill you to go old-school? A Beamer? Really? You might as well be straddling a Cuisinart.” When DelVecchio’s brows twitched, Ad figured a debate on motorcycles could wait. “You’ve parked that Eurotrash POS and you’re walking through the forest. You’re looking for Kroner. You’re waiting for Kroner. Tell me what you’re doing.”
Ad kept up with circling. “Talk to me. What are you doing—”
“I’m going . . . to kill him.”
The words were soft and spoken through a mouth that barely moved.
“With what,” Ad prompted. “Tell me everything, buddy.”
“My . . . knife. I have . . . my knife with me and I’m . . . waiting. . . .” DelVecchio frowned again, but this time it seemed more like he was staring off into the distance even though his eyes were closed. “I know he’s going to show.”
“And when he does—what do you do?”
While Ad waited for the answer, he prayed for a miracle. He’d seen the report on the news so he knew that someone had done a serious number on that Kroner character. If somehow it could be anyone other than Veck, at least they’d be headed in a better direction.
“I palm my blade . . . and I step forward. I’m . . . going to kill him. With my knife.” The guy’s right hand twitched at his thigh, then formed a fist as if gripping a dagger. “I’m going to—There’s someone else here.”
DelVecchio held his breath and didn’t move at all on the couch, just as he must have done out in the woods.
“Who.” When there was no reply, Adrian wanted to shake the guy’s box of marbles to clear up the cognitive jam, but instead just continued circling his palm. “Who is it?”
DelVecchio seemed to struggle at that point, shaking his head from side to side and wincing. His hand crawled up his chest and rubbed his temple. “I can’t . . . remember . . .”
Someone’s been inside his chrome dome already, Adrian thought. Patching over the memories.
Fucking hell. There was only one species on the planet that could do that—and was also capable of tearing a human male apart with its teeth—
As the word came out of DelVecchio’s piehole, Adrian cursed. Yup, great. Just what they needed at this already crowded party.
With the way things were going, who was next? The Easter Bunny and the Tooth-frickin’-Fairy?
Nah, not their luck. More like Wolfman Jack and the Mummy.
CHAPTER 14
When the following morning came, Reilly woke up right before her alarm clock went off, and it was hard to know whether that was a good or a bad thing.
She’d been in the middle of an erotic dream, one that had put her and Veck back on the kitchen table. Except there had been no
Her clock’s buzzer started yapping like a Yorkie.
“Shut.
As she silenced the damn noise, she decided, “good thing” on the early wake up. Even though her body felt
