Jonathan’s jaw clenched. “I wasn’t selling her, man. Get that part straight. I’m a good cop, okay? The captain . . . shit, she told me to find her. Pope saw her in the video, and she knew that you’d been hiding her. Hell, she’s the one who told me what your lady was.”
An angel.
“Captain Pope isn’t human.” Did the guy realize that?
Marna just watched them as she rocked forward on the balls of her feet. He could feel the tension rolling off her.
Jonathan swallowed. “I was beginning to suspect that was—”
“She’s a demon.” Tanner just didn’t know how strong she was.
“Sonofabitch.” Jonathan’s gaze darted to the boarded-up warehouse windows. “She probably followed you. Probably set the whole department after you.”
She’d said that she was gonna clear his name. She’d told him to go.
Don’t trust a demon.
There was only one demon he’d ever trusted in this world. His brother. The captain had been desperate to find out where Cody was.
And I told her.
Fuck.
What in the hell was going on?
“Let me out of these cuffs!” Jonathan demanded, lurching forward. “Let me help!”
Tanner stepped toward his partner. Marna stopped him. “When Jonathan came to your apartment, he shot his way inside.” Her hand felt silken soft against his skin. “When I ran, he followed me, shooting.”
The panther snarled and tried to push past the man’s control.
Eyes wide, Jonathan scurried back. “Warning shots! I wasn’t aiming at her, I swear. If I had been, I would’ve hit her!”
Was that supposed to lessen his rage? The bastard had shot at her.
“Yes, he would have hit me,” Marna said, sending a hard glance his way, “just like he did before.” She shook her head. “I don’t trust him, and I don’t want that human free.”
Yeah, well, after a bullet, who could blame her?
“Tanner, man, listen to me.” Jonathan’s voice was desperate now. “Don’t do anything crazy, okay? Don’t do anything like—”
“Like let my animal side out?” Perhaps it was time the guy saw just what he could do. Tanner let his claws break free.
Razor sharp. Ready to kill.
Jonathan scrambled back some more. His back almost brushed the wall. “Please, man, I—”
“Come near her again,” Tanner told him, “and you’ll see just how dangerous my beast can be.” Jonathan’s bullets wouldn’t have killed her, but Tanner couldn’t stand the thought of Marna in pain.
She took his hand, not even seeming to see the claws. She’d been so afraid of them before. But now . . .
“Let’s get out of here,” she told him.
They needed to haul ass. Needed to find Cody and make sure the captain wasn’t going after him next.
How many more dead bodies? Blood was starting to fill the streets in the Big Easy.
“I can help you!” Jonathan’s stare was fierce as he gazed at Marna. “Just give me a chance to make things right.”
But she wasn’t looking at him. She’d already turned away and headed for the door, giving them both a view of her slim back.
“Why doesn’t she have wings?” Jonathan’s voice. Quieter now. Curious.
Afraid?
Tanner stared down at his claws. Long. Lethal.
Monster.
“Because they were sliced away.” He tossed the key to the cuffs, threw it toward the far wall. By the time Jonathan freed himself, they’d be long gone. He marched toward his partner. Kept his claws out. “A shifter’s claws can slice through just about anything.”
He could smell Jonathan’s fear. The panther liked that scent.
Tanner brought his claws up to Jonathan’s throat. “You ever shoot at her again, and you’ll see just how sharp they truly are.”
A fast nod. “I-I swear, I—”
“Stay the hell away from her.” Because he wouldn’t play so nicely the next time.
Then, because Jonathan had shot at her, Tanner punched him once more. The guy hit the floor, and Tanner knew he’d be out for a while.
That would give Tanner plenty of time to disappear with his angel.
“Sorry, partner, but I just don’t trust your ass.” Right then, there were only two people he trusted.
His brother—and his angel.
Bastion stared down at the male human. Paul Hodges. Weak. Helpless. His body was bruised and battered, and connected to a dozen different beeping machines.
Doctors and nurses rushed around him. Some barked orders. Others grabbed for needles. Tubes.
They were trying to save the cop.
They weren’t going to succeed.
Bastion stepped closer. The male’s eyes were closed. Drugs poured through his system, but . . .
The cop’s body twitched.
You know I’m here.
The dying always knew when an angel was close. Paul’s eyelids began to jerk.
The cop would die young. Leave behind no family. A few friends. He’d drift right away.
But his life had served a purpose. Did he realize that? He’d been useful.
A tool.
A broken tool, one that had been cast away now.
Bastion eased closer to the bed. No one else there could see him. Only humans were in the room.
They could only see his kind when their time was at hand.
“We’re losing him!” one of the nurses shouted.
No, they’d already lost him. They just didn’t realize it yet. He’d been lost from the moment his patrol car had stopped on that dark road. He should have stayed away from the shifter and the lost angel.
Should have kept driving.
But . . . really, there was no changing fate.
Paul’s eyelids flew open. His stare locked right on Bastion. He tried to scream.
Impossible, of course, especially since he had a tube shoved down his throat.
“Time to go,” Bastion told him and lifted his hand.
But Paul began to thrash violently. His head shook, back and forth, and his right arm flew out.
His fingers clenched round a scalpel. Someone screamed.
The cop tried to use his weapon on Bastion.
Strange. He hadn’t expected the human to fight so fiercely.
Paul’s eyes were stretched wide, and fear rolled from him in waves.
A doctor wrestled the scalpel away from him. “We’re trying to help you!” the man shouted.
Trying, failing.
Paul kept fighting. Tears slid from his eyes and a mewling sound broke from his throat.