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

York sweatshirt. She couldn’t take much more time. Soon, it’d be harder to get around and more dangerous to engage in anything physical. That left the dance floor and Andy’s permission to roam there when the party wasn’t hopping.

Voices sounded outside the door. She crept closer. Andy was talking to her guard. He rarely stopped by her place.

She jumped to the door and swung it open, like she was going to breeze out and stand post in front of the window. “Oh. Andy. What are you doing out of your hole?”

He was taller than her, but only by a handful of inches. Not like Boone or any of her teammates. He drew his shoulders back and stared down his nose at her. As if she’d be intimidated.

The bodyguards he kept had never been possessed. It had to be intentional. Did they even have tattoos? Andy probably wasn’t as concerned about demons as he was about warriors getting near him. They couldn’t risk hurting a human, thanks to Numen’s rigid guidelines.

How did he know, though?

“Sierra,” Andy said blandly. “Were you listening at the door?”

“Can you blame me for getting claustrophobic? It’s a nice place, but spending weeks on end in it sucks. I save my allotted window time for when something’s going on in the club.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up at her description. He liked his power over her. “Take a walk with me?”

She drew back. It couldn’t be this easy. “Seriously?”

“Come.” He shook his head at his bodyguards. It’d just be the two of them?

She shoved her feet into her slippers and rushed out. Andy might give the bodyguards instructions to search her place while he thought she wouldn’t know, but she didn’t care. He wouldn’t find anything, and she’d do another sweep for listening devices or cameras when she got back.

“Will I actually get to go outside? See some sun?” she asked as they waited for the elevator.

“Perhaps in time.”

Asshole. But at least he thought that was what she really wanted.

She didn’t. She just needed to visit the bathroom.

Breathing normally was difficult while he took his time selecting the ground floor. “What’s on the third floor?”

His eyes narrowed. “Dust and emptiness. Jameson was never good at carrying tasks to completion. He recruited disciples, then got distracted with gathering Daemon blades, trying to touch Numen metal, and finally getting into Numen himself. He spread himself too thin, lost focus. And he died.”

Boone’s advice rose in her mind. Learn to spot the tells and she’d know when Andy was lying. Andy didn’t lie, but he avoided topics and changed subjects when he was hiding something. The third floor was more than dust and emptiness. “Good thing you’re here.”

Her sarcastic tone actually made him smile until cold fury overtook his features. “He didn’t remember me. Jameson.”

Aw, Andy’s feelings were hurt. “How long was he with your mother?”

“Two years.”

Jameson had cheated on Chanel for that long? Hell, Jameson had probably cheated on Andy’s mother with someone else entirely.

The doors opened to the first floor. She sauntered out. Traces of cheap cologne and perfume lingered. There was more discarded jewelry strewn on the ground than stray napkins. On their way to the bar, she passed two styles of dangly earrings and a lost watch.

“People really forget their personal items here?” She toed the watch with her slipper. The display brightened, with a step count of zero. Someone was going to be pissed their steps all morning hadn’t been counted.

“They’re distracted.” Andy went around the bar and grabbed a bottle from under the counter, along with two glasses. He splashed amber liquid into one glass. “This is my special stash. Pappy Van Winkle fifteen-year bourbon. Twenty-five hundred a bottle. No one else is allowed to touch it.”

“Just water for me, please.”

His hand paused over the second glass. “The baby. Right.” He tilted his head toward a fridge. “Perrier is over there.”

Basically, serve yourself, then. Andy had a sensitive ego.

She got her water, but didn’t settle on a stool. She hadn’t been lying. Staying cooped up for weeks in the same space drove her crazy in a way that the cabin in Montana hadn’t. The difference was that she could leave the cabin whenever she wanted. And she’d had company. Quality company.

Strolling by the booths, she looked over every one. How much body fluid was on the surface? Blech.

“The cleaners will arrive in an hour and prepare it for opening time.”

Fall From Grace didn’t open until after ten. Part of its allure. It was open from eleven to five a.m. and half the people had to wait in line for two hours to get in. More exclusive that way, and therefore, more popular.

She passed onto the dance floor. Under the normal glow of regular lighting, it was nothing special. The same went for the rest of the club. The cages sat empty like oversized dog kennels. The dance floor lacked luster, dulled from a thousand heels pummeling it week after week.

She drained half her bubbly water and kept looping the main floor. When she neared the entrance, Andy tensed, but she kept circling.

As she passed the entrance, she spotted a couple of guys chatting by the front doors. “You keep guards out there twenty-four seven?”

“There are some who think the hours don’t apply to them.”

“Are they usually women? Are they usually trying to get into Jameson’s bed?”

“Good deduction, though those attempts have died off over the months.”

Probably more after she’d been making an appearance each night, which only helped her to keep making them. Fewer women Andy had to convince that Jameson still existed.

“You’re going to need to tell them eventually.”

Andy took a sip of his amber liquid and his lips thinned. “It’ll be best if Jameson dies an epic death.”

“He already did.” The fallen hadn’t redeemed enough of himself, that would’ve been impossible, but he’d managed something all had thought was impossible, and he’d only been able to do it to save his son.

“Unfortunately not where everyone can see.”

“How inconvenient.”

“Yes.” Andy took another