Chapter Seven
Marcus floored the accelerator, and the car sped down the road to the highway. Hell and heaven wanted her dead. He wasn’t so sure anymore which would succeed. He needed to stash her someplace secure and then find out what she knew. The only place she’d be safe was at his little hole in the wall.
Raven finally raised her head and peaked out the windshield. “What was that all about?”
“Someone has targeted you,” Marcus said so matter-of-factly that it chilled Raven to the bone. He reached under his jacket and touched the damp spot on his shirt. Damn, he’d been hit. Once he got her settled in his apartment, he’d stop the bleeding. The bullet had just grazed him, and, by tomorrow, it would heal. Golden bullets couldn’t kill anyone working for heaven.
He watched her try to figure out who was after her. “I haven’t done anything to draw that kind of attention,” Raven said.
“You’ve been targeted nonetheless.”
“Yeah, I got that, but I still can’t connect the dots.”
Marcus pulled into an alley, stopped the car, got out, and opened the garage door. Then got back into the car and pulled into the garage. He turned off the car, jumped out, closed and locked the door, throwing the car into darkness.
Raven didn’t know where they were. She didn’t really know Marcus, but right now she had no other option than to trust him. The hordes of hell and the captain were after her, and she didn’t know why. The only thing she knew for sure was that she needed to figure out how to put the blame back on the captain, where it belonged, and keep her new human partner out of this mess.
An overhead light flashed on, and Raven got out of the car. She looked around the space, but could see no door other than the one they’d just driven through.
“Come.” Marcus held out his hand to her.
Keeping her own damned hands to herself so the excitement of his touch wouldn’t flood through her body again, she pulled away. He shrugged at her reaction, turned, and pressed a spot on the wall. A secret door opened. He reached in and flicked on a light. “Come.”
A metal staircase wound down into the basement of the building. “Really? You have a bat cave?”
“You can stand there, or you can follow me into my cave, as you so eloquently put it. I’m going to get comfortable.” Marcus ducked as he went through the doorway leading to what must be the basement of the building.
Raven decided she couldn’t figure out what he was up to standing here by herself, so she followed his glorious scent and descended the metal staircase with the same excitement as she would entering a bottomless pit. The room had a small bed, a table with two wooden chairs, and a small kitchenette that lined the wall to the left. Even on a detective’s pay, he could do better than this.
Marcus stood behind her, flicking off the stairwell light and closing the door. His heat engulfed her and she ached for his touch. “Welcome to my humble abode.” He crossed the hall and went into the bathroom, leaving her alone in the small space.
Raven looked at the single bed then back at him and knew his seven foot, five inch frame wouldn’t fit on that bed comfortably. This wasn’t his “abode” at all.
A few minutes later, he came out of the bathroom. She noticed he’d changed his shirt. Taking the kettle to the sink, he filled it. “I’m going to make tea. Do you want some?”
“Sure, thanks.”
After he placed it on the two-burner stove, he turned to her with a smile and, for the first time since the shooting, Raven felt safe.
She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “Nice place. Been here long?”
“No, not long.” He reached up in a cupboard and took out two mugs and set them on the table. “Milk and sugar?”
How could she trust him when he had just bare-faced lied to her? He didn’t live here at all. “Neither, thanks.”
Whatever Marcus was up to, she would find out and deal with him. But right now, the safest place for her to be was where the captain couldn’t find her. So this abode, though not Marcus’, was perfect. She would get some rest and form a plan to get out of this mess the captain had dragged her into.
Marcus placed the steaming mugs on the table, then sat down across the table from her. This room was just too small for such a large man. It simply reinforced the fact that he didn’t really live here. Reaching out, she pulled the mug toward her, letting the heat warm her hands. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”
He shrugged.
Still lying. “So where are you from?”
His shoulders tightened, and his back straightened. His expression hadn’t changed, but his protective wall had certainly gone up, and Raven knew she had to keep her distance. She’d figure out why someone was shooting at her and if this sexy giant’s lie was somehow connected.
“Do you have any idea why someone would shoot at you?”
She shook her head as she lifted her mug to her lips, refusing to answer. She knew the rules—first one to speak lost—and she wasn’t fool enough to play the game.
“There has to be a reason,” he said firmly.
This human would never understand that the captain had pissed off the powers of darkness. “I can’t think of one.”
Marcus took of sip of his tea, keeping his eyes focused on her. Even with him being so withdrawn, heat pooled between her legs. Damned. She wouldn’t let her body rule the situation, so she took a deep breath to calm down.
“People don’t shoot at you for no reason.” His calm voice alarmed her. He was right, but she couldn’t tell him that she was a succubus bounty hunter gathering the damned for the powers of darkness. No human would believe that. Besides, even if she told him the truth, how could she be sure he’d tell her his truth? “I can’t really think of any reason.”
Marcus drummed his manicured fingers on the small, wooden table. “Look, this is serious.”
“Yeah, I get that,” she snapped. Raven took a sip of tea, letting the hot liquid penetrate her body and quiet her jumbled nerves. “I don’t have any idea who would be after me.”
“Your partner is dead and you’re not telling me everything. None of this makes sense.”
Damned the captain and his secrets. Raven softened her voice; the human was only trying to help. “You know there is a chance Stephen simply died, and there is nothing more to it than that.”
Marcus glared at her. “Nothing except the bullets whizzing past our heads a few minutes ago.”
“Yeah. Well, there has to be a logical explanation.”
His eyes narrowed. “Which is?”
The room may have been small, but it wasn’t a confessional. She’d keep her secrets until he was a little more honest about his own background. So instead, she shrugged away his question.
“What do you know about the captain?”
By the tone of the question, Raven sensed Marcus knew more than he let on. Was he smart enough to figure out that the captain was in trouble? If the captain ever found out she’d confirmed any suspicions about him, she’d pay dearly. “He’s the captain of detectives.”
Marcus lifted the mug to his sensual lips, and Raven’s breath caught at the sight. Watching him swallow, she wanted to run her mouth across his corded neck, sucking and nibbling until he cried out with pleasure.
“He calls. You leave a crime scene in the middle of an investigation, and then someone shoots at you.” He shifted his chair so he was closer to her. She felt the heat of his body, smelled his unique musky scent, and took a deep breath. Damned, all she wanted was to grab him, wrap herself around him, and ride the hell out of him.
He took another sip of his tea. “Yeah, I totally get you not knowing what is going on,” he said sarcastically.
Raven, looked away. Marcus was bright, and it wouldn’t take him long to figure out her involvement, even if it was circumstantial. Right now, she needed a friend more than she needed another enemy. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. But I do know there’s something the captain isn’t telling me.” She looked Marcus in the eye. “I don’t know what it is. Honestly.”
“So why didn’t you ask him?”
Ask the captain to explain his actions—he’d have killed her on the spot. “He’s not the chatty type.”
“So you don’t know what triggered the shooting?”
She heard the skepticism in his voice, and her cold, pessimistic heart shattered. She didn’t understand why, but she’d wanted him to believe her. It shouldn’t matter, but for some reason it did.
Raven crossed her heart, hoping the human gesture would be enough to appease him. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Well, not to die.” She smiled, but his expression remained unchanged, resembling a granite gargoyle on the town hall. “You have to believe me. I don’t know why.” Running her finger around the rim of the mug, she said, “I’m not even sure it was me they were shooting at.”
Marcus finished his tea, stood, grabbed her half empty mug, and placed both mugs in the sink. “I’m tired. You take the bed, and I’ll sleep here.”
She didn’t want him to move away from her. She needed his warmth. She needed the charge that only sex with him seemed to provide. But most importantly, she needed someone on her side, someone she could trust. “You, sleep on these chairs?”
He pulled a blanket from the bed, balled it up, and tucked it under his head as he lay on the floor. “Never said the chairs.”
Raven waited a few seconds then stood and walked over to the bed. She sat down and wondered if she should cross the room and lie down beside him. Her skin craved the heat of his touch, her hardened nipples craved his lips, and her pussy needed his big, thick dick. The only thing that would ease her need was the raw sex he could provide.
Hearing his steady breathing, she realized he’d fallen asleep. So she took off her shoes, unhooked her bra, slipped the straps down her arms, and pulled it off under her blouse. Should she slip off her blouse and curl up beside him? Her breasts had certainly woken men before.
She lay on the bed and flicked off the light, turning the room into darkness. She could still smell Marcus’s scent as she punched the pillow into shape. It was going to be a long night for an unsatisfied succubus.
****
Marcus woke up to the vibration of his cell phone under his modified pillow. Glancing over at Raven, he saw that she still slept soundly. He grabbed his cell, carefully got up from the floor, and headed for the bathroom—the only place in the apartment he could have privacy. “Yeah.”
“You should have checked in.”
He rubbed his hand across his face, trying to stay calm. “Been busy.”
“So I heard. The Devil has a bounty on the succubus. Seems she’s his problem now. So why did you stop them from killing her?”
The arch-angel had insider information from the other side. Chills raced down Marcus’ spine. He had to find out what the arch-angel knew. “Why would he put a hit out on one of his own?”
“Why did you stop them from killing her?”
When the boss answered your question with another question, it could only mean one thing—trouble. Marcus had to speak truthfully but carefully. “You hired me for the job.”
“Didn’t realize you’re so protective of a mark.”
The iciness of the arch-angel’s voice alarmed Marcus, and he chose his words carefully. “If I let them get her, do I still get paid?”
“Money? That’s your motivation?”
“You know it isn’t.”
The pause meant the boss was re-evaluating having sent Marcus on this assignment. “She’s there with you, isn’t she?”
No matter how much he wanted to say “no,” Marcus couldn’t lie to the arch-angel. “Yes.”
“Why?”
If he didn’t watch what he confessed, they’d put a hit out on him too. Forgive and forget wasn’t always an option in his line of work. “She’s just a pawn.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” The knot in Marcus’ stomach lessened. He truly believed she was just a pawn, nothing more.
“I should trust your instincts?”
“I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me,” Marcus answered truthfully.
A moment later, the boss said, “If she spills about the captain, then she can live.”
“She says she doesn’t know anything.”
“I know you’re not naive enough to believe that. Either turn her or deal with her.”
The line went dead. Marcus leaned his head against the wall. His immortal side told him it didn’t matter, just do the job. His human side shouted that she’d told him the truth. How in heaven’s name could he prove she was innocent if she didn’t know enough to clear her name?
“Who were you talking to?” Raven’s shocked voice carried to his ears, even though barely above a whisper.