Angels' Judgment

“Marco Giardes.” He nodded up. “Lives above the bar.”

“Huh?”

“Owns the place. Bought it with an inheritance.”

Sara shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. Bother you?”

A bit of red stained his cheeks. Her mouth fell open. “What?”

He blew out a breath. “You’ll see.”

“We’re going in?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t know about me—unless he’s another spy. We’re just two hunters who heard about his place and decided to drop in.”

Since hunters were known to do things like that to support each other, it was a perfectly believable cover. And despite the fact that it was close to four a.m., the bar was jumping. “Weapons?”

“No problem for hunters.”

“Then let’s go.”

They flashed their Guild IDs and got waved in by the heavily muscled bouncer . . . who gave Deacon a thorough going-over. Sara bit the insides of her cheeks when the big, tough Slayer shifted a little behind her.

The instant they entered the main floor, conversation stopped, then started in a huge rush. She was welcomed with smiles—there were several other women in the crowd—but the attention was most definitely on Deacon. So when he put his hand on her hip and pulled her up against him, she didn’t protest. “Poor baby,” she murmured. “They really like you.”

“It’s not funny.” She’d never heard a blush before.

A beautiful male with the slinky body of a catwalk model strolled over. “What a shame,” he murmured, noting their body language. “I hope you’re taking good care of him.”

Sara patted Deacon’s hand where it curved over her hip. “The best.”

“Will you let him dance with us?”

Sara could feel Deacon’s horror in the absolute frozen lines of his body. It was tempting to tease, but . . . “He’s not much of a dancer.”

Giving another mournful sigh, the blond walked away. Unable to keep it in any longer, Sara turned and buried her face in Deacon’s chest as her body shook with laughter. His arms came around her, his lips at her ear. “We’re going to a girl bar on our next date.”

That simply made her laugh harder. Tears leaked out of her eyes. By the time she got it out of her system, the scent of Deacon was well and truly in her lungs. The man smelled delicious. A little bit of heat, a little bit of sweat, a whole lot of dangerous. Perfect.

Hands flat on that gorgeous chest of his, she looked up. “I guess they know a manly man when they see one.”

His lashes, long and beautiful, shaded his eyes, but she saw the glint in them. “What about you?”

Her answer was interrupted by a discreet cough. She turned to find a man who could only be another hunter. His stance was easy in the way of someone who knew how to move in a fight, his eyes watchful . . . and at the moment, amused. “Welcome. I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“Sara.” She stuck out her hand. “This is Deacon.”

“Sara Haziz?” The hunter’s smile turned dazzling. “I’m so delighted to meet you. I’ve heard of you, of course. Please, come in.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Pierre, prep a table.” Returning his attention to them, he gave a short nod. “I’m Marco. With the Guild but not for long.”

“Oh?”

He smiled again, displaying a row of gleaming white teeth. “I decided this bar is my true love after all.”

Not many hunters retired. But it wasn’t completely unheard of. “You won’t miss the thrill of the hunt?”

“It’s a young man’s game. I’m in my late thirties now, but don’t tell.”

Deacon finally broke his silence. “Your bar’s doing well—we heard about it on the hunter grapevine.”

“Some of my best customers are hunters,” Marco said, genuine pleasure in his voice. “They bring their girlfriends, mates, don’t blink an eye. I’m very glad to have been a part of that fraternity. Please, come. The drinks are on me.” With that, he turned and led them to a table on the edge of the dance floor.

They all took a seat and drinks were ordered. Sara noticed that Deacon barely touched his—whiskey, of course—and neither did Marco. She took a sip of her cocktail and made a true sound of pleasure. “This is sinfully good.”

“Yes, the bar’s becoming quite well-known for its cocktails.”

She smiled and they chitchated for several minutes. “Does this place have a ladies’ room?”

Marco grinned. “Of course. I can show you.”

“No, just point me in the right direction.” She leaned in close and whispered, “I need you to stay here and protect Deacon.”

Marco’s eyes twinkled. “The big ones want to pit themselves against him, and the pretty ones want to take him home and give him a whip.”

Deacon’s face remained expressionless, but his green eyes held a distinct warning. Laughing, she got into the act and stroked his cheek as she left. His stubble made her fingertips want to go exploring, but she strolled to the bathroom instead, getting several approving looks from the crowd.

It wasn’t her fault she got distracted by a conversation with another hunter and ended up at a door that didn’t lead to the toilets. Unfortunately, it was locked solid and coded with a touchpad. Hiding her disappointment, she made a point of asking for bathroom directions again and went in to use the facilities before returning to the table.

“Get lost?” Deacon asked before Marco could.

“Yeah.” She laughed. “Someone dragged me off to ask if you really were as hard as you looked.”

Deacon flushed. “Keep going.”

She knew it was another warning. But the byplay had the effect of disarming any suspicions Marco might’ve had. He laughed and said a few more words before getting up to go mingle.

Deacon didn’t look particularly happy, but waited to speak until they were on the bike heading back to the hotel. “You didn’t make it to his apartment.”

“No need.” She grinned. “He crosses his leg like guys do.”

Silence.

She took pity on him. “You know, one ankle over the knee, encroaching on other people’s space.”

“You got a transmitter on his shoe.”

“When I asked to go to the bathroom.” She felt exceedingly smug about that. “And that’s not even the best part—he was wearing solid hunter boots.” Increasing the odds that he’d use the same footwear if he decided to go out killing.

“My guess—the killer’s not going to move tonight. Not after Rodney.”

“Won’t he be frustrated by the fact that he failed?”

“Possible, but this guy’s not stupid. He does his homework, strikes only when he knows his prey will be vulnerable.”

“If you had more people, you could put watches on both Tim and Marco, and if necessary, Shah.”

“Ever tried following a hunter who doesn’t want to be followed?”

“Point taken.”

She thought of the three they’d visited. “Did you ask Simon to run background checks?”

“Might already have come through.”

He was right. He pulled out and turned on a PDA that looked as tough as he was as soon as they got back to the hotel—all three reports were waiting in his e-mail.

“Pretty standard stuff,” Sara said, as she lay flat on her back on the bed with the PDA in her hands. “Timothy had a hunt go bad, hasn’t been seen in public since, but we know he’s alive. Shah really is a spy. Doesn’t mean he isn’t a killer.”

“Gut instinct?”

“That if Shah was going to kill, he’d do it in a way no one would ever trace back to him.” She looked at the last page. “Marco is a solid hunter with a stable personal life—he’s playing happy families with a vampire, so he clearly likes them.”

“You ever been tempted?” The bed dipped as Deacon braced a knee on the bottom edge and looked down at her.

Chapter Five

Her mouth went dry.“Tempted?”

“To take up with a vamp?”

Oh. “Sure, they’re gorgeous.” But not real, not like Deacon. “Don’t tell me you don’t agree.”

“The whole bloodsucking thing’s kind of a turnoff.”

“Yeah, that trips me up, too. I don’t want my partner thinking of me as a midnight snack.” She switched off the PDA and laid it carefully on the small chest of drawers beside the bed. “Have you ever had a vamp feed on you?”

A shake of the head, his eyes lingering on her lips. “You?”

“Emergency feed,” she said, suddenly hot in the T-shirt and jeans that had been fine moments before. “The guy was so badly off, I had to do something.”

“Hurt?” Those night-shadow green eyes were drifting over the rise of her breasts, the dip of her stomach.

She breathed deep, saw him suck in his own breath at the movement of her chest. “Not as much as you’d expect. They have something in their saliva that takes the edge off.” Stretching out her legs, she raised her arms above her head. “And you know they can make it feel good if they want.”

He didn’t answer, his attention very much on her body as she relaxed from the stretch. Then he moved onto the bed, bracing himself above her using his forearms. “Yes?”

A simple question—one that made her pause and think. Hunters weren’t prudes, but Sara had never had a one-night stand. It simply wasn’t in her. Yet she’d wanted Deacon from the instant she’d seen him. And from the arousal he was making no effort to hide, she knew full well he wanted her, too.

But they weren’t just two hunters who’d met on the road. “Are you going to get all weird after?”

“Define weird.” He settled himself more firmly against her.