Demon Fire (The Angel Fire Book 3), Marie Johnston [books suggested by bill gates TXT] 📗

rules of. Some of the poor souls in the line behind her wanted to belong to something, to be a part of a group when they’d been kicked out or ignored before. But the bouncers? They wanted the power to hurt people. Sierra didn’t feel bad for what they had coming.

As a warrior, it hadn’t been up to her to question any of the conflict. Save the humans, that was their goal. As a fallen, she still wanted to do her part—but it didn’t include helping any of the fucks who allowed Fall From Grace to keep functioning. Only she could do that. Like Boone had said, undercover work was about the right person, right role, right time. They had no choice on the time. Any further along in her pregnancy and she’d be even more physically limited. After the baby was born, she’d have a defenseless child to worry about. But there was no doubt she was ideal for this situation, and the only one who could play this role.

The bouncer woman gulped and nodded. She avoided looking at Sierra. “Come with me.”

As soon as Sierra stepped inside, the bass of the dance music pounded through her chest. A throng of bodies packed the dance floor and the bar. The tables and the booths in the shadows were full of people having all definitions of a good time.

Her skin crawled. She wanted a shower. Scrub the demon stink off. This place was infested. People were infested. It was disgusting.

She gritted her teeth as the woman led her through the crowd, another three bouncers walking in front of her like the prow of a ship cutting through an ocean of people. Only Sierra and the woman bouncer who’d confronted her loaded into an elevator and rode to the second floor.

The space was dark when the doors dinged open. Sparsely decorated, but still elegant.

The woman didn’t talk as she led Sierra to a conference room. Light spilled from the open door. The air grew heavier the closer she got. Two more bodyguards outside the conference room. None of the bodyguards were possessed, and even sylphs left them alone. Noted.

The woman stepped aside and ushered Sierra in.

Taking her time entering, Sierra cataloged everything—and there wasn’t much. A utilitarian conference room with a large table surrounded by plush office chairs. The shrewd man at the head of the table pushed back and folded his hands on his lap. An open laptop in front of him cast a glow over his face that gave him an ethereal look.

What she wouldn’t give to get a hold of that computer. A guy like Andy would have to track his accomplishments, and since he couldn’t spread the news of everything he’d done, it had to be cataloged somewhere. Her bet was on the computer. He might not spell out the outcomes for what he’d done, but he’d have meticulous records. If he’d been involved in the stockpiling of angel fire with Stede, there had to be at least one spreadsheet.

She kept her expression even, only allowing a slight tic in her brow to show. “Andy?”

She didn’t have any doubts regarding his identity. Without the expensive pinstripe navy blue suit, the styled hair, or the ruthless, intelligent gleam to his eyes, he’d look like a geeky accountant. It had probably been easy for him to dupe Jameson.

His perfunctory smile was quick. “I believe we can skip the introductions. But I do admit, I wasn’t expecting you to come here willingly.”

She pulled a chair out and plopped down. “Well, I wasn’t expecting to be broke as hell and chased by the entire underworld.” She tilted her head from side to side. “Actually, I was expecting to be broke as hell. The other part was highly inconvenient.”

“I imagine. Especially if you’re expecting?” His voice hitched up at the end. The idea of a baby excited him.

She’d go ahead and make his day and add to the sourness in her gut. She was doing this for the baby. Her child wasn’t going to live in fear of being discovered like she had. “It’s Jameson’s.”

Satisfaction filled his eyes. “You two worked against Stede.”

She dipped her head.

That earned another flash of a smile. “Well done.”

“I thought you’d mourn losing a contact in Numen.”

“That was Jameson’s goal. Not mine.”

“And what is yours?” He didn’t answer. It was her turn for a serene smile. “It was worth a shot.”

“Why are you here, fallen?”

“Money,” she said with a laugh, as if it was obvious. “I’m a prisoner here or a prisoner with my former team. They don’t trust me and can’t wait to pretend I don’t exist again. You have Jameson’s money.”

A beat of surprise made it through his placid expression. “I didn’t take you for greedy.”

“I’ve been forced to become a realist. I have no money. No home. I’m having a baby. That baby is Jameson’s and whatever he had should be passed down.”

“By that logic, I should turn everything over to his son Julian, the one you call Jagger.”

He thought he’d called her bluff. “I mean, go ahead. I’m sure Jagger won’t turn it away. The team would love to shut this place down. But you don’t want that, do you?”

“The club . . . serves a purpose.” Andy leaned forward, his folded hands now on the table. “So, what exactly do you want? You can’t expect me to trust you, or give you free rein while you stay here.”

“I’ll take Jameson’s old place. It’s better than the cell you’d probably have thrown me in once you caught me. I want to be able to go to the doctor when I need to. And I want a midwife in case this little peanut has wings.”

Sick excitement flared in his eyes. She’d wanted her baby to be blissfully human looking before, but now it was imperative.

“A midwife. Interesting. I can arrange for a team of doctors to be brought in.”

“So I get to stay?”

He tsked. “Ms. Cormorant. There’ll be conditions.”

She hated that he knew her last name. The