Avenging Angel (The Fallen 4)

“Bullshit.” Jonathan leaned toward her. “A lot of things happen because there are just some twisted f**ks on the streets.” He glanced down at the crime scene photos and then back at her. “I’ve seen kills like this before. It looks like nothing happened to them, but when we get the tox screen back, are we gonna see something different? ’Cause I’m bettin’ we will.”

Because Tanner didn’t want to interrogate Marna, he let the human keep going with his questions. The guy was blundering in the dark, so Tanner wasn’t particularly worried about him stumbling onto the truth.

Unless Marna decided to overshare. She’d better not.

“I’m bettin’ that you took a needle and shoved it into those poor bastards.” Jonathan’s fingertips tapped on the photos. “You jammed ’em up with something, some drug, and killed them, and just because the ME can’t find the injection site yet doesn’t mean—”

“It doesn’t mean that she won’t,” Tanner broke in, saying the words he knew he was supposed to say. He had to at least act like he was after her, for those uniforms and brass who were watching. “She’ll find the evidence, and it will be the final nail in your coffin, baby.”

A faint furrow appeared between Marna’s pale brows. Tanner’s hands fisted. Hell, had he just called her baby again? He’d have to watch that.

“There will be nowhere for you to go,” Tanner continued as he tried to force his body to relax. The beast inside wanted out. “Your face will be splashed across every paper in the area. Broadcast on every TV. People will find out just exactly what you are.” Because of those witnesses. The ones who’d already been too eager to share with reporters. For the right price, everyone would talk in this town.

Marna’s hands lifted and flattened on the table. Her head inclined toward the photos. Death hadn’t been kind to the shifters. No wounds were on their bodies, but their faces were frozen in masks of terror. “Those men . . .” She spoke slowly. “They deserved what they got.”

He really wanted to put his hand over the woman’s mouth.

Jonathan rocked forward, way too eager. “So you admit that you killed them?”

“I admit . . .” Her gaze lingered on the photos and then rose slowly. Not to look at Jonathan, but to lock on Tanner. “I admit that they were murdering bastards who enjoyed hurting other people. They were due some punishment.”

She was not helping the situation.

Jonathan nodded his head. “And you were just the one to punish them, weren’t you?”

Did her lips tremble? Her shoulders hunched. In that moment, she looked even more vulnerable than usual. What the hell? Was she playing some game with them?

Jonathan’s hand slapped on the table. “Weren’t you?”

She jumped. No game. Marna was afraid.

“Listen, you—” Jonathan began.

E-fucking-nough. Tanner’s hand closed around the guy’s shoulder as he surged forward. “Ease up.” His hard grip said now.

Jonathan whirled to face him. Both of the guy’s brows were up. “Come again?”

Screw this. “We’re taking a break.” Because he wasn’t sure what would happen if Jonathan kept badgering Marna. A big reveal to the human about all the paranormal creatures running through the city wasn’t an option.

The legs of Jonathan’s chair groaned as he shoved away from the table. The guy stalked out of the room, not glancing back. Oh, yeah, he was pissed. Whatever.

Tanner leaned across the table. He only had an instant to make Marna understand the plan he’d just pulled out of his ass. “When I come back . . .” He barely breathed the words. “Come at me.”

She blinked.

“Come at me,” he told her again, “or that guy’s gonna try to lock you in a cage tonight.”

Then he turned and headed after Jonathan.

The interrogation room door had barely closed before his partner was in his face. “What the hell was that about?” Jonathan demanded, voice rising. “First off, I’m not your errand boy!”

Tanner waited, one brow rising. There’d be more coming. Any time somebody started with a “first” there was always—

“And second, yeah, she’s f**kable, but don’t let your dick lead you to screw up this case! That woman in there—”

A crash sounded from the interrogation room. Tanner stiffened. Showtime.

Jonathan tried to shove him out of the way so he could head back inside. Right. Like that was gonna happen. Tanner shoved back and the guy went tumbling to the floor. Then Tanner threw open the door to that interrogation room.

Marna had tossed the table against the wall. The chairs lay scattered on the ground, and she’d ripped one of the table legs out, and driven it right through the two-way mirror.

Should have been impossible. Those mirrors weren’t made to shatter, but she’d managed to break through it.

Probably because the lady was using some of that amped-up angel strength of hers, and if he didn’t watch it, she’d be fleeing right out through that second room—now that she’d made herself a little escape path—and racing head-on into a bullpen full of cops.

“Marna . . .”

She spun back around with the table leg held up, club-like, in her clenched hands.

“Guess she’s stronger than she looks,” Jonathan said from behind him.

Couldn’t that guy ever get off his back?

In the next instant, Marna charged at them. Proving that she was, indeed, much stronger than she appeared. Because Tanner knew he had to make this look good, he rolled to the ground when the table leg swiped out at him.

Her next hit connected with Jonathan, and the guy finally shut up because she knocked him all the way back into the two-way mirror.

But Jonathan had fast reflexes, for a human, and in the next instant, he had his gun out and aimed right at Marna.

“No!” Tanner bellowed as he lunged toward the other cop.

Too late.

Jonathan fired and the bullet slammed into Marna’s chest.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This wasn’t his plan. Not even damn close. Rage exploded within Tanner, and he drove his fist into Jonathan’s face. This time, when the cop went down, he was unconscious.

“Don’t ever hurt her again,” Tanner snarled, hands still fisted. His claws were coming out, and they were tearing into the flesh of his palms as he kept his hands fisted.

“T-Tanner?”