Nora frowned, yet she dropped her gaze. Yep, he recognized the look. They were in the rich district, and he’d just asked the woman to depart her house and leave her residence filled with expensive artifacts in the hands of strangers. A biker, no less, who’d already torn up her front lawn. Well, if they wanted to avoid demonic possession, they’d have to trust him. Otherwise, he’d be forced to lay out the raw truth… Something he’d prefer to avoid. Scaring people wasn’t how he handled such situations.
Her mouth opened with what he guessed was a protest, but he jumped in first. “It’s for your own safety. Now hurry.” He turned to Cyra, who was bent over, patting her bleeding injury. “Cyra, you’re with me.”
She looked up with an arched brow, yet, to his surprise, without a word, she marched past him and down the hallway.
When he caught up with her as she walked into the bathroom, she was shaking her head. “You didn’t have to be so direct with Nora. She’s already scared and confused.”
Gunn shut the door behind them, not wanting their conversation to reach the old couple. “Better they’re scared enough to leave than they stay and something worse happens.”
Cyra unzipped her leather jacket, shook it off her shoulders, and placed it on the counter before leaning over the sink and splashing her face. She then gargled mouthwash she’d found near the mirror. Probably to clean the taste of vomit from her earlier puke. Without a word, she walked across the five-by-five room and sat on the edge of the tub. The white button-up shirt she wore had frills at her wrist and dipped to reveal gorgeous cleavage.
He took off his jacket, feeling stifled and hot in the bathroom. Dumping it next to hers, he rummaged through a cabinet crammed with toothpaste, toothbrushes, and soaps still in their packages. He grabbed disinfectant cream along with a packet of bandages.
“Did you see her shaking?” Cyra continued. “And I wouldn’t leave a stranger in my house. Hell, no!”
After wetting the hand towel, he closed the distance between them.
She had her injured leg propped up on the ledge of the tub as she pushed back the torn fabric around her calf.
“I needed them to go. And you with them. I don’t mean to sound harsh, but this is a life-or-death situation.”
Cyra stiffened and if her gaze could spear Gunn, he’d be pinned to the door by now.
“I’m not leaving. This is my mission.” Her clipped tone told him it wasn’t a topic she’d back down from, but did he expect anything different? Didn’t mean he’d let her stay. The job had just switched over to his level of experience, which meant he called the shots.
“If I had lost you in that Hell pit, your brother would have skinned me alive,” he said.
Cyra’s shoulders squared and her nose wrinkled in a defiant way, but he was up for the challenge. “Well, don’t worry about me,” she said. “You can sleep well knowing you haven’t upset Chase.”
Her snarkiness fired something inside his chest. She cared for him. Otherwise, why would she fret over him protecting her? But, in fact, he’d taken this task on himself to spend time with Cyra. To ensure she stayed safe for his own sanity. And thank fuck he had come before she ended up as hellhound food. In the attic, he’d only seen blackness in the portal, but he’d thrown a rope he’d found in storage, ready to jump in when he’d felt a tug. He’d prayed it was Cyra… Yeah, he’d taken one hell of a risk, but it had paid off. And he’d do it again if need be.
He kneeled next to her and dabbed the towel on her injury. Then he grabbed another vial of holy water from his belt. He carried three on him at all times. And he’d already used one and was about to use his second, so he might need to pop out and stock up on supplies from his bike. He poured the contents over the wound and noted no reaction. The good news was there was no infection or possession yet. “Sorry to say this, but the situation here is out of your league. It’s about vanquishing the bastards, closing up the portal, not cleansing spells that make everyone feel dandy.”
She scowled, seized the disinfectant tube from his hand and squeezed huge blobs across the three-scratch marks on her leg. She hissed from the sting, her face tightening. “I’ve been casting since I was eight,” she said through her teeth. With haste, she lathered on the cream, turning her skin into a pink paste as the cream merged with blood.
“I’m not saying you’re not an incredible witch. I believe it, but Argos was wrong about this mission. No simple haunting here. And that means I’ll be calling a friend to join me so we can shut down the demonic circus setting up home in these folks’ house. Argos won’t blame you, baby cheeks. Don’t worry.”
Using the damp towel, he wiped her calf and attached the first bandage to her injury, followed by two more, with a final one across them in what looked like a tic-tac-toe board.
She lifted her head, avoiding his stare, but he saw the light quiver of her chin. This job meant so much to her, and leaving terrified her that she’d lose the chance to work at Argos.
Determination fired her up, that was clear, along with a need to prove herself. But why? All he’d heard from Chase was how much he cared about and loved his sister. How he’d
