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Avenging Angel (The Fallen 4)

Page 25

The snarl of an approaching engine grated in his ears.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

He stared down at Marna. The smooth curve of her stomach. The silken edge of her panties.

The snarling engine grew louder.

His hands were shaking when he snapped her jeans. As he hurriedly pulled her clothing back into place, they didn’t speak. Right then, he wasn’t sure he could speak. The panther roared too loudly inside of him.

Marna’s cheeks were flushed, but her head had jerked toward the approaching car so she knew what was happening.

Wrong place.

He opened the passenger side door. Pushed her inside. He’d just slammed the door when the car slowed beside them.

Not just some friendly dumbass looking to help them out.

A patrol car.

This was so not his night. Hadn’t the vamps been bad enough?

The patrol car, of course, pulled to a full stop and its blue lights flashed on. The cop climbed out, shining his flashlight. “There a problem here?”

“No problem.” Tanner exhaled, cleared his throat and tried to sound less like a snarling animal. “I’m a cop.”

“Are you now.” Not a question, just a statement of doubt. The cop tried to shine his lights toward the passenger seat.

Tanner moved his body and blocked that light before it could fall on Marna. “My badge is in the vehicle, but you can go ahead and call my ID number in on your radio. 5-2-7. Detective Tanner Chance.”

The cop, a fresh-faced newbie if Tanner had ever seen one, immediately pulled out his radio and called in the badge number. Tanner began to head toward the driver’s side.

“Hold on there!” The flashlight hit him right in the face when he glanced back. “You move nice and slow, got me?”

Smothering a sigh, Tanner tried to play it cool. The last thing he wanted was for this kid to get a look at Marna. If he’d heard the talk at the station . . .

But Marna hunched into the shadows when Tanner opened the door. He grabbed his badge from the glove box and held it up for the kid. “Are we good now?”

The guy swiped the badge. Brought his light up real close to it as he peered down at the badge. Hell. This uniform was so green. If he’d wanted, Tanner could have jumped the kid five times by now.

Amateur hour.

“You need to be more careful,” he snapped to the kid, not able to hold back. “Never get within striking distance of a suspect, no matter what shit he says.”

The guy gulped and jumped back. “S-sorry.” The flashlight bobbed.

“Keep your weapon ready, and don’t ever give any perp an advantage.” The kid needed backup. He shouldn’t be out riding alone.

The boy’s fingers were shaking when he gave Tanner back the badge. “Why—” The word cracked so the kid cleared his throat and tried again. “Why did you stop here, Detective Chance?”

Because I had to taste her. “Lust.” Tanner turned away and climbed into the car. “It’ll get you every time, kid.”

When he drove away, the patrolman was still standing in the middle of the road, staring after him.

Officer Paul Hodges exhaled on a long sigh as he watched the SUV’s tail-lights vanish. He’d screwed up. And in front of a detective no less. How was he supposed to live this down? When word spread at the precinct . . .

Shouldn’t have let down my guard. Rookie mistake. He’d been patrolling for five months now. He knew better.

But . . . when the guy had said he was a cop . . .

“People freakin’ lie.” He headed back to his car. He grabbed his radio and spoke into the mike, “Affirmative on the ID. Verified it was Detective Tanner—”

Headlights flashed on the dark street. Bright lights that pinned him in their glare. “What the hell?”

A vehicle was coming toward him. Too fast. Paul waved his arms. His cruiser was right there. The guy had to see it. Him.

The ground seemed to shake beneath him. Not stopping. He dove for the side of the road.

But those bright lights—that big vehicle—followed him. The front fender slammed into him, and Paul went flying. When he hit the ground, he heard the snap and crunch of his bones.

And the vehicle stopped. Reversed.

Paul tried to drag himself farther across the road. He tried to call out because someone might still be on the radio. “Officer down! Officer—”

The vehicle—an SUV—hit him again. The tires rolled right over his legs, and Paul screamed. Everything went black and all he knew was agony. So much pain.

Too much.

Someone hit him. Punched him in the face. His eyes had been closed—had he passed out?—but Paul’s eyes flew open at that impact.

“You’re not dying, kid.” That voice. He knew that voice. Detective Chance had come back to help him. He must have seen the accident! He must have—

“I’ll let you live a few more hours.” Tanner Chance smiled down at him, and Paul’s blood iced. “But you won’t escape me for too long.” Then Chance drove his foot into Paul’s side. “That’ll f**king teach you,” the detective snarled, “to ever question me!”

Paul spat up blood.

Chance kept smiling. And kicking. And Paul realized Tanner wasn’t there to save him.

He’s the one. Only one vehicle was at the scene. An SUV. Tanner had come back all right.

The detective had come back to kill him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“So what happens now?” Marna asked. It was still dark, and she still wanted Tanner.

Wanting him was becoming natural for her. She didn’t think about it. Didn’t question it. She just . . . did.

“Now it’s our turn to hunt.”

She glanced at him. Saw the hard line of his jaw. “What do you mean?”

He was driving fast, his eyes on the road, not her. “It means we both know that vamp has info on what’s happening in this town.”

That vamp. Riley Kane. “You want me to give him my blood.” She hadn’t expected that. Marna swallowed. She didn’t know if she could do it. The guy’s teeth, in her flesh? “Tanner, I—”

“Hell, no.” He tossed her a fast glance that called her crazy. “We’re gonna track that vamp down to his hole, and we’re gonna make him tell us everything he knows.”

Oh, yes, she liked that plan much better.

His stare slid back to the road. “It’ll be daylight soon. We’ll wait for the sun to rise, then we’ll find him.”

Because vamps were always weaker during the day. So weak, they were almost human.

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