Angel Betrayed

Careful or heaven will hit back.

The house was gone, burned in flames that were far too hot for a normal fire. Yet despite the heat, the fire didn’t spread to any of the other houses.

Because that wasn’t the plan.

Rogziel’s gaze swept the crowd. There. Sam was on his motorcycle, watching the fire, and not caring that the human cops were just feet away from him.

Seline was at his side. She should know better than to get so near to the fire.

As he watched, Seline leaned in even closer to the Fallen. She whispered something in his ear, and Rogziel saw her lips brush against his cheek.

Like mother, like lying daughter.

Seline climbed on the motorcycle behind Sam. After a moment, the bike pulled away from the curve.

The humans—so blind—didn’t even glance up. But maybe that was Sam’s power at work. He’d been walking the earth for centuries. If anyone could manipulate the humans, it would be him.

Sam should have been the one to burn. He had burned, but, somehow, he’d escaped the fire of hell.

Seline’s body hugged his as they left the neighborhood.

Rogziel straightened to his full height. Humans wouldn’t see him. Not unless he bid them to. His wings stretched behind him, powerful, strong, not burned away to hideous scars like Sam’s.

He still had power. Enough to take down the Fallen and the half-blood demon who’d finally shown her true colors.

Which one would die first?

Did it really matter?

He smiled and leapt into the air.

Sam didn’t take them back to New Orleans. Seline curled her body against his and held on. She didn’t know where they were going, but as long as they were putting those flames behind them, she wasn’t going to question him right then. So she held on, and the miles drifted past. The sun sank and the dark night sky covered them.

They stopped only long enough for gas and for Sam to make some phone calls. Probably alerting his men. And some guy called Keenan.

She fell asleep at some point. Her dreams were restless, filled with blood and fire, and when the motorcycle braked to a stop, Seline’s eyes flew open. “Wh-where are we?”

Darkness. Thick and total.

“Laredo.”

Wait. “Laredo? As in Laredo, Texas?”

He grunted. “We’ll sleep for a few hours, and then we’ll cross the border tomorrow.”

And hit Mexico.

She saw that there actually was a light up ahead. A small motel flashing a vacancy sign. Sam headed for that sign. She grabbed his arm and realized that her legs were seriously like jelly after that drive. “What’s in Mexico?” she demanded.

“More Fallen.”

Seline exhaled slowly. They wouldn’t be the only ones heading across the Border.

“But this time, we’re gonna get to the prey first,” Sam said.

He caught her arm and pulled her toward the motel. She hoped the guy was right because she was tired of getting to the party only to find that death was waiting.

The desk clerk barely glanced their way as he tossed them a key. At least he muttered, “honeymoon suite”—but she knew sarcasm when she heard it. She growled back at him and realized she probably looked like warm hell.

They headed back outside—all of the rooms were accessed from the outside. All twelve of them. They strode to the last room on the right. Sam opened the door.

“Honeymoon suite, my ass,” she muttered, glancing around. She was pretty sure that bed was the kind that did the shaking when a quarter was inserted. One sagging bed, a frayed chair, and—that was all.

But at least the place had a bathroom. She’d kill for a shower right then. The door hadn’t even shut behind them before she started to strip.

“Wait . . .”

She glanced over her shoulder.

He had a brow up, that one brow that he liked to lift when he studied her. “As much as I do enjoy it when your clothes come off, I think you’d better keep them on for now. We’ll be having company soon.”

Company, there?

His lips twisted, and it wasn’t a smile with a whole lot of warmth. “I’ve spent a lot of time in Mexico. A hell of a lot more than I have in New Orleans.”

But he’d been in the city almost constantly for weeks. She knew—she’d been watching him for most of that time.

“I have . . . a friend . . . who will be stopping by when word reaches him that I’m here.”

He had friends? Not just minions? Her hands were on the bottom of her shirt. She let the garment fall back over her stomach. “How will he know you’re here? If we’re only gonna be staying for a few hours . . .”