Avenging Angel (2 page)

 

A
girl knew when she was being stalked.

Marna didn’t glance over her shoulder as she made her way through the bar. What would have been the point? She felt his eyes on her.
Knew
he was there.

Sometimes, it seemed that he was always there.

Bodies brushed against her as she wound through the crowd. Marna didn’t recoil as she’d done when she first lost her wings. She’d grown used to the touches over the last few weeks.

Music blasted out in a steady beat from the speakers that hung near the ceiling. The place was packed, filled with men and women drunk on a powerful combination of alcohol and lust. The too-loud club shouldn’t have been her kind of place.

It was.

She made it to the bar and lightly tapped her fingers against the glass counter. Then she let her gaze lift to the mirror that waited behind that bar.

In that shining surface, she saw him perfectly.

Tall, strong, with wide shoulders and muscled arms, her watcher easily cleared a path through the dancers. Maybe it was the harsh intensity of his face that made folks step back. The man stalking so purposefully toward her wasn’t handsome, not really. His features were too hard, too stark.

But...

But there was something about the high arch of his cheeks, the square cut of his jaw and the sensual curve of his lips. With that thick mass of dark hair that skimmed his shoulders, Marna supposed that some human women might find him attractive. Even sexy. Humans always seemed to think the dangerous ones were sexy.

Good thing she wasn’t human.

His eyes, dark green and burning with a quiet fury, were on hers in that mirror. She almost smiled at him. Instead, she lifted her drink and sipped it lightly.

What did the big, bad shifter want now? She’d tried to play it nice. She’d told him to stay away. She’d given the guy fair warning, but . . .

Tanner Chance closed in on her. His voice had been pitched low, so that only she could hear him, and the guy’s body curved around hers.

He didn’t touch her, not yet, but only a few inches separated them.

She turned her head and felt the whisper of his breath on her cheek. For some reason, Marna shivered.

“You didn’t have to do it,” he gritted and, oh, yes, that was most definitely fury burning in his gaze. He’d better be careful. Too much fury wasn’t good for the beast that he carried inside. “You could have just lived your life. Could have just gone on—”

A laugh slipped from her, but the sound was bitter. “What life?” Her life had been clawed away from her. There was no heaven for her, not anymore. Just hell on earth. Feelings, emotions, needs—they seemed to constantly swamp her now, and they were driving her
crazy.

No one had warned her about the hungers . . . for food, drink . . . pleasure.

Without the magic from her wings, every human need and emotion slammed into her, and each day, Marna felt she was losing a bit more of herself.

What she wouldn’t give to be ignorant again. To just . . .
not know.

He leaned in closer to her. Still not touching, but every part of her was hyper aware of him.

“Others know what you did,” Tanner said.

Marna blinked, lost. “Uh, good?” Because she didn’t know. Had no clue what the guy was rambling about now. But . . . he smelled good. Not like the others in that place. He didn’t reek of stale beer or too much cheap cologne. He smelled—

“They know you killed those men.”

Whoa. Back up. She hadn’t killed anyone.

His eyes narrowed, the faint lines tightening on his face. “You left their bodies in the alley. What did you think would happen? That no one would find out what you were doing?”

Another laugh came from her as she turned away. “I have no idea what you’re—”

His fingers closed around her shoulder.

Marna stilled. “You know better.” He did. The guy had a pretty thorough knowledge of angels, so he understood just how dangerous her kind could be. She’d gone out of her way to warn Tanner off. Seeing him reminded her too much of what she’d lost. Because of—

“Why am I still breathing?” His other hand rose and pulled her off the bar stool and up against him. “If you want me dead, then why am I still standing?”

His body was so hot and hard against hers. Her heartbeat kicked faster in her chest. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him because the guy was really just huge. His hands seemed to burn right through her clothes, their weight a heavy touch that made her feel strangely restless.

His gaze searched hers.
“Why?”

She brought her hands up between them. Placed her palms right over his chest, smiled and—

“We got a problem here?” the bartender demanded as he slapped his hands down on the counter.

Tanner didn’t turn his way. “Mind your own business.”

Didn’t he sound all tough and deadly? Didn’t he look that way, too? In his faded jeans, in that black T-shirt that pulled across his muscled chest, with his dark hair mussed and that jaw clenched . . . he looked like he could kick the ass of any fool dumb enough to get in his way.

Marna wasn’t a fool.

She also wasn’t weak.

She spared a glance for the bartender. About six-three, way over two hundred pounds, and sporting fists that would probably make most men tremble in fear. “I’m okay.” She had this.

The bartender’s eyes narrowed and clearly showed his doubt. “You sure, honey? ’Cause I can—”

Tanner swore and stepped away from her.
Ah, giving up already?
But then he shoved his hand inside his back pocket and yanked out some kind of wallet. He flashed his ID and snarled, “Police, asshole. Now step the hell back.”

Right. He was playing the police card? Figured he’d stoop that low.

Her lips twisted as she started to walk away.

“You’re not leaving me, Marna.” There was no missing the anger beneath his words.

So what? She had her own share of anger. “Watch me.” Yes, she’d actually taunted the big, bad shifter. Marna marched away. She kept her head up and her back straight. She’d just clear her own way through the crowd.

Tanner grabbed her arm after she’d taken about five steps. “Not gonna happen, baby.”

Wait . . .
baby?

She glanced at him and saw that the guy had pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Her jaw dropped.

“I tried to do this the easy way, but you didn’t want that.” He snapped one cuff around her wrist before she could even blink. “So I guess we’ll go for the drama.”

He spun her around and locked both cuffs behind her back. Marna was aware of the avid stares and not-so-quiet whispers that focused on her.

“You’re comin’ with me,” Tanner told her, his faint Southern accent deepening a bit, “because there is no way I’m letting you out of my sight now.”

She yanked at the cuffs. She should have been able to snap the things in two with hardly any effort.

Only . . . no snap.

He pushed her forward. The crowd backed up. “Thanks to a voodoo priestess I know off Bourbon Street, I was able to add a little something extra to those cuffs.” Tanner’s words were pitched low. “They can keep level-ten demons locked up, so I figured they’d keep you held tight, too.”

This wasn’t happening. She yanked against the cuffs again. No give.

Tanner had promised that he’d never hurt her. He’d seemed . . . good, despite his sadistic freak of a now-dead brother. She’d been willing to let Tanner keep living.

Only now he was cuffing her?

Fury churned in her gut. “You aren’t doing this to me.”

He leaned in close to her, close enough for her to see the dark gold flecks in his eyes. “I’ve got two dead bodies that I can trace back to you. Trust me, I
am
doing this.”

Two dead bodies? Marna shook her head. She hadn’t killed anyone.

Though that certainly hadn’t been for lack of trying.

I can’t kill anymore.
No one knew that secret shame yet.

But the shifter wasn’t giving her time to respond. More cops were spilling through the doorway, guys in uniform this time, and they were all closing in on her. Great. Obviously, she was having another one of her lucky days.

“It shouldn’t have been this way,” Tanner told her, and anger was heating his voice again. An anger that seemed to match her own. “Fuck,
too many know.
Don’t you understand? There’s nothing I can do.”

She was surrounded. Men and women in blue were staring at her with narrowed eyes while Tanner started spilling some lines about her needing an attorney and having the right to stay silent.

And she did stay silent. While Tanner led her outside. While he pushed her into the back of a patrol car. And even while the vehicle raced down the road.

Silent, but the fury within her continued to build.

 

Tanner’s jaw clenched as he led Marna through the busy New Orleans police station. As always, she looked delicate, vulnerable—deceptively so. The woman barely skimmed the top of his shoulders. Her frame was small, slender, but Marna did have some curves he’d admired far too many times.

Now wasn’t the time for admiring. Now was the time for figuring out how the hell he was supposed to save that curvy ass of hers.

A few of the cops stepped back when Tanner and Marna approached them. He could tell by the look in their eyes that they thought a mistake must have been made. No way were they looking at the face of a killer.

A killer shouldn’t have an angel’s face.

A killer damn well shouldn’t
be
an angel.

He glanced down at her, sparing her a brief glance as he led them back to the interrogation room. Her eyes were wide, a pale blue that had haunted his dreams too often. Her cheeks were high, and her chin the slightest bit pointed. Her nose, small and straight, was currently held in the air. Though his angel wasn’t talking, she sure was pissed. He could see the fury in the set of her jaw and in the tightness of her lips.

He didn’t even know how many fantasies he’d had about her lips. Should an angel truly have lips that looked like they had been made just for sin?

Jonathan Pardue, his new partner, whistled as he headed toward them. “
This
is the woman who killed those men?”

Marna stiffened. “I didn’t—”

Tanner’s hold on her tightened. He needed to get her away from all the eyes and ears as fast as he could. If so many cops hadn’t already been aware of the situation, he would have been able to protect her longer.

But, no, the lady just had to start making her kills public. Shit. She should
know
better. Most paranormals at least
tried
to keep their kills in the dark.

“You know what they say. . . .” Tanner murmured as he plastered a tight smile on his face. He’d been working with Jonathan less than a month. Not nearly long enough to trust the guy with all the secrets he carried. “Appearances can bite you in the ass.” Because if you were fool enough to think a pretty face belonged to an innocent woman, you deserved to get your ass bitten.

Jonathan laughed and opened the door to the interrogation room. His brown eyes lingered a bit too long on Marna.

Tanner felt the beast that he carried begin to stir inside of him.
Back off.

“I can help you with this one,” Jonathan said as he tried to follow them into the room. “I’ll be glad to—”

“Get us some coffee,” Tanner told him as he steered Marna toward the small table. “Then we’ll all settle down and find out just why this lady thought it would be fun to kill.”

Tanner saw her shoulders tense.

Jonathan headed out, grumbling about having to fetch shit, but Tanner was just glad the guy was gone. He forced Marna to sit in the wobbly chair—the thing always wobbled and irritated the suspects, a nice bonus, usually. Then he leaned in close and put his mouth right at her ear.

And he had to fight back the impulse to lick. To taste.

But then, so was he.

“I know that you wanted your revenge.” His breath feathered over her ear, and Tanner was close enough to see the small shiver that shook her. “But, dammit, baby, you should have been more careful.” His voice was whisper-soft. “You left two eyewitnesses in that alley.” Eyewitnesses that had provided perfect, matching descriptions of her.

Because of those witnesses, everyone in the station knew about her. An APB had been put out instantly, and Tanner had known that he had to act. He hadn’t been willing to trust anyone else to bring her in.

Hell, Marna might have just decided to
kill
anyone else who’d gone after her.

He’d had to move, fast, and get her under his control.

Her head turned, and her eyes met his. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, shifter.” Her voice was as low as his. The room was monitored, and knowing the guys in the station, Tanner had no doubt that other folks were in the next room, watching them through the two-way mirror that lined the left wall.

But while they could watch, those guys wouldn’t be able to hear anything that was said. Tanner had taken the liberty of disconnecting the audio system
before
going after Marna.

Yeah, he knew how to plan ahead. Some days.

“My brother and his asshole packmates hurt you.”
Hurt,
such a tame word for the hell they’d put her through. His brother Brandt had cut the wings right from Marna’s back and left her to die in the dirt. Brandt’s packmates hadn’t done a thing to save her. They’d been too busy following Brandt like the fools they were. She’d suffered so much because of the events of that night.