Vengeance Page 2

  Benny grinned, the entire look screaming ‘smart ass.’ “I heard you ran into some trouble hunting werewolves in Russia. This will be decent downtime for you.”

  Noah lifted an eyebrow instead of rubbing his just-healed chest that a werewolf had clawed through. Weres were mindless creatures intent on killing, and somehow they kept cropping up in the oddest places. “I’m busy.”

  “I figured.” Benny sobered. “I’m sorry about Clyde. He was a good soldier.”

  Even the name ripped through Noah with sharp blades. “He was. So you understand why I’m busy right now.” Clyde had been the closest thing Noah had to a brother. Hell. They were brothers. And the bastard who’d killed him would go down and hard. As soon as Noah found him, which was why he’d moved to this small shithole of a town in Indiana. His prey had businesses outside in the overgrown and huge industrial area.

  Benny sighed. “You do this for me, and I’ll get you a line on his killer.”

  “I know who killed him,” Noah gritted out. “Just have to find the asshole.” A good for nothing feline shifter who was supposedly crazy as hell. It had all, like usual, been over a female. “Petersen attacked Clyde from behind. He had to have.”

  “Probably. I’ll find out where Petersen is hiding. I have good contacts now, you know.” Benny’s eyes swirled with emotion. “I miss him, too.”

  Clyde had only been dead for a month, and Noah had been hunting at the time. Had just found out, and his gut hurt constantly. His head ached. His hands fisted with the need to avenge. “I don’t want or need your help.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. “Sometimes it’s necessary to regroup. I heard the Russians paid you handsomely for that last job. You deserve a break from work.” He edged toward the door.

  “Being an independent contractor is a good gig,” Noah snapped.

  Benny reached for the doorknob. “Contractor, mercenary, assassin.... it’s all respectable. But now, vacation time.”

  He could really use intel on where Petersen was hiding, damn it. Noah turned to look at Ivar, who slumped in a way that showed he just didn’t give a damn right now. “I don’t understand, Ben. I don’t know how to help him.”

  “Well, now.” Benny clapped him on the shoulder, and the sound echoed loudly through the airy space. “You owe me, and you know it.”

  It was true. Noah blew out air. His friend had saved his life in the last war, without question. “This is how you want to call in your chip?”

  “Yep,” Benny said cheerfully. He reached in his back pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper. “The queen looked into this, and I signed both of you up with the appropriate background information. The guy running it is supposed to be an expert in PTSD and trauma, even though he’s a human, and it’s just for a couple of weeks until I get back. Good luck.” He shoved the paper into Noah’s hands, opened the door, and shot outside in a surprisingly graceful move. The door shut quietly.

  Noah pivoted and stared at the closed door. “What the hell?”

  Ivar chuckled, the sound pained. His hand shook as he planted it on his sunken chest. “He’s one of a kind, right?”

  Right. Noah slowly unfolded the paper to read the intake forms. Oh, come on. No way.

  * * * *

  Abby Miller’s legs shook as she walked into the basement room of the old elementary school. Several scarred wooden chairs were arranged in a circle on the cement floor, while a street level window up high was covered in a grate surrounded by leaves and rainwater. One blackboard, green really, was up front with the name of the group spelled out. Anger management support.

  Anger. Oh, they had no clue.

  A woman strode toward her from a rickety table holding a coffee carafe and Styrofoam cups. “Hi. I’m Dr. Mariana Lopez.” She held out a hand to shake.

  “Abby Miller.” Abby shook the shrink’s hand, frowning. “I thought Dr. Johnson was in charge of this group.”

  Mariana sighed, her dark brown eyes sparkling. “Yes, he was. But he had unexpected business out of town, and I’m going to cover for him.” She frowned and looked around the dismal area. “We’re supposed to be in a room upstairs, but the Gamblers Anonymous leader got there first. He’s pushy.”

  “I see,” Abby said. The woman had to be in her early thirties to be a shrink, but with her chin-length sassy bob, she looked younger. Her bone structure was straight and her lips full, and she’d dressed in nice black slacks with a white blouse, looking professional and smart. Two-inch heels on her boots put her at about five-foot four, an inch shorter than Abby’s height. Abby tugged at her worn hoodie and tried not to grimace at her rain-speckled light jeans. “Okay.”

  “Have a seat.” The doctor gestured toward the vacant chairs.

  Maybe it would just be the two of them. That’d be all right. Abby strode for a worn chair and sat, crossing her legs. Bruises along her ribs instantly protested. She lived in a suburb away from the city, and it was fairly small, which had turned out to be a bad thing for her. But perhaps this was all right. “Dr. Lopez? If it’s just us, should we go grab a coffee?”

  “Mariana,” the doctor said, moving for a briefcase next to a chair and taking out a stack of blue manila files. “I think we’ll have a few of us.”

  As if on cue, two men strode inside. The atmosphere instantly changed, warming and somehow becoming heavy. Abby cleared her throat. Thank goodness she was already sitting.

  They were huge. Like hugely huge. Like people out of an Avenger movie. The guy in the lead had dark blond hair, black eyes, and a ripped chest beneath a plain gray T-shirt. His face was such strong angles and curves that compelling was too tame of a word to describe him. “Hi,” he said to Mariana. “I’m Noah Siosal, and this is my pal, Ivar. We were in the service together.”

  That voice. Low and gritty and male. Abby gulped.

  Then his gaze swung to her. Deep and piercing. Somehow irritated. Whoa. Her body conducted an internal shiver, head to toe, and her heart increased in pace. Yep. Even her breath quickened. That made sense. Her taste in men was horrendous, obviously. And now she’d gone all girly and soft at a guy in an anger management class. That was true to form, unfortunately.

  She tore her gaze away to study Ivar. He was muscled, with burn marks down the side of his neck and arm. They looked fresh. He was as tall as his friend, but it was obvious he’d recently lost weight by the way his clothes hung on his frame. His hair was a lighter blond with dark streaks strewn throughout that somehow looked natural and genuine. His eyes were a sizzling blue, and that was definitely anger and pain reflected there.

  Her fight or flee instincts kicked in, but she stayed in the seat.

  Ivar ignored the shrink and strode to take a chair across from Abby, his gaze wandering vacantly to the barred window up high.

  Noah sighed. “He doesn’t talk much. Rough mission.” He prowled forward, all power and grace, to sit next to his friend. He settled his hands on his legs.

  Abby swallowed. Those were really big hands. Wide and broad. A guy could do a lot of damage with hands like that. Her body chilled.

  He cocked his head to the side and studied her, curiosity glimmering in those midnight black depths.

  She focused on Mariana, who’d just sat with her files on her lap.

  Heavy footsteps sounded, and another man strode into the room. Holy crap. Who were these people? Did anger make somebody huge and seriously handsome? Or were they that way first and then became angry for some unbelievable reason? This guy was about six-foot-five with black hair and piercing green eyes, and he was just as broad as Noah.

  Ivar leaped to his feet and Noah sighed, stretching to his. “What the hell?”

  The other guy looked around the room, his gaze landing on the files in Mariana’s lap. “You’re not Dr. Johnson.”

  “No,” she whispered, looking as bewildered as Abby felt. “I’m Dr. Lopez. I’m taking over this group for the time being.”

  “Huh.” The guy shot a smile at Noah and crossed the room to sit next to A
bby. “I’m Raine Maxwell.” He even brought heat with him.

  Noah’s chin dropped in an oddly threatening way. “Why are you here?”

  “I have anger issues,” Raine said smoothly, sounding...amused?

  Mariana cleared her throat. “Do you all know each other?”

  “No,” Noah and Raine said in unison. Noah nudged Ivar, and they both sat back down, their gazes locked on Raine.

  What in the world was going on?

  Raine turned his attention to the shrink. “Different branches of the military—all of us former. It’s a natural reaction.”

  Mariana’s dark brows arched. “Is it? I don’t think so. Perhaps that’s why you’re all here.” She flipped open the top file. “Noah and Ivar. Two bar fights in the last year, and you put several people in hospitals. We can work on that.”

  The two men didn’t twitch. No reaction. That was odd.

  Mariana opened the next file. “Raine? Let’s see. A fight with a landlord and a former client that resulted in thousands in property damage.”

  “Landlord?” Noah snorted, crossing his arms. Wow. Those were some impressive biceps.

  Raine lifted a shoulder. “Let’s just say it was a hellish situation.”

  Silence. A heavy, symbolic, thick silence descended. There was more going on here than Abby could fathom, but wasn’t she used to that reality? Her ribs ached, and her right leg twitched. Yeah. She was accustomed to dangerous men who had ulterior motives and hidden agendas.

  This was going to be a long month.

  Chapter Two

  Well, this was a cluster of all fucks. Noah angled his body toward Ivar in case the Viking decided to leap across the room and tackle Raine Maxwell. Not that Noah didn’t want to take the vampire down, just for fun. But considering Raine was probably there to kill Ivar, or at the very least investigate him, blood was surely going to flow soon.

  And the vampire was sitting, rather smugly, next to the fragile human female. Abby Miller. A placid name, a calm roll of the consonants. But the woman. Noah couldn’t stop studying her.

  Brown hair to her shoulders, greenish-brown eyes, small build. She held herself at full alert, even sitting, as if expecting an attack at any moment. There was anger lurking in her pretty eyes, but there was a well of alertness. Of fear, as well.

  This was the oddest of all self-help groups, that was for damn sure.

  Then a demoness walked in. A real one. Pure bred. Long blonde hair, deeper than black eyes, tiny stature. Power wafted around her as she all but glided to the remaining chair next to the shrink. Noah had never met a real life pure-bred demoness. They were incredibly rare and impressively powerful. What the holy hell?

  She looked up, scanned the room, and then chuckled. Throaty and sexy, the sound vibrated through the room. “Well. This is interesting.”

  Yeah. That was surprise and curiosity in her eyes. She hadn’t known there would be other immortals in the group. What the hell was a real demoness doing in a human anger-management group? The female looked up toward the door and sighed, her pink lips turning down as a male leaned against the door jamb.

  Human male. Interesting. A cop with badge secured to his belt. About six-foot-two, brown hair, matching beard, blue eyes that had seen some shit. He glared at the demoness and then turned, lifted his chin, his gaze softening, at Abby Miller.

  A growl rolled up from Noah’s chest, shocking the heck out of him.

  Abby blinked and returned a tentative smile.

  The shrink cleared her voice. “Can I help you?”

  “No,” the human said. “I’m Detective O’Connell and I just wanted to make sure Abby and Tabitha made it here safely.”

  Ah. So cop ordered. But a demoness would just disappear if needed, so why was she going through this farce? And how did the cop know sweet Abby?

  “Tabi,” the demoness muttered. “Call me Tabi.”

  Abby and Tabi? Shit. This was like a bad sitcom. Noah started as something close to a smile lifted Ivar’s lips. Oh, it was there and gone faster than a blink, but it had been there nonetheless. Maybe this crazy idea was a good thing. Who knew?

  “All right. Let’s get started.” The shrink put some authority into her smooth voice. “I’m Dr. Lopez, and you can all call me Mariana. I’m taking over for Dr. Johnson for the next two weeks, since he’s out of town. We should be in the nicer room upstairs, and I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  Noah frowned. “You’re an expert in PTSD?” If the woman couldn’t help Ivar, he was out of there.

  “No,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I do have some experience with anger management, but usually I work with children.”

  Fucking wonderful.

  “Let’s go,” Ivar muttered, not moving.

  Noah almost nodded, but his gaze roamed to Abby again. She’d looked relieved at Mariana’s statement. Why? Damn curiosity. There was something about her that he couldn’t place. A sense. So he stayed on his chair. Just for this meeting.

  “Why aren’t we upstairs?” Raine asked calmly, his voice not quite as hoarse as a demon’s but close enough. Noah had never met him, but he’d heard of the soldier’s record. The vampire was known as a fierce fighter from a long line of soldiers—not aligned with the Realm. Not opposed to them, either. “Mariana?”

  The shrink flushed. “That’s neither here nor there. So. Who would like to start? Let’s get to know each other. How about we talk about the inciting incidents that led to your being here today?”

  Ivar grunted. “Listen. I went through hell, am angry, and was supposed to meet with your PTSD dude before I get in to see an expert who’s dealing with some rogue demons in Europe right now.” He nodded at Noah. “Lily. The prophet.”

  Man, the guy had forgotten where they were. Noah forced a chuckle. “The rogue demons are just some angry soldiers, so I’ve heard. And everyone calls Dr. Lily a prophet because she has a reputation of being able to help somebody to the degree that she can tell their future.”

  Tabi snorted delicately.

  Yeah, he was full of shit.

  Even Raine pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. The two human females just looked at him, having no clue of the undercurrents in the room.

  “Ah, I see,” Mariana murmured. “Well, maybe talking it out to this group will help you, Ivar. At least until you can get in to see the expert.”

  Ivar returned to staring at the basement window up high in the wall.

  Mariana correctly gauged his expression and slid his file to the bottom. “So. Who’s next?”

  The cop coughed. “Tabitha? How about you?”

  The demoness cut him a glare that should’ve shriveled the human, but the guy didn’t seem moved. Impressive. “Fine,” she muttered. “I purchased the abandoned assembly plant right outside of town for one of my businesses, and I was out there taking a look when four young men decided to act like jackasses.”

  Noah barely held back a wince.

  “You put all four of them in the hospital,” the cop drawled.

  She rolled her eyes. “They deserved it.” With a huff, she straightened. “Turns out one of them is the sheriff’s kid and the judge’s nephew, so there you go.”

  Abby blanched. “Yeah. I know the two of them as well.”

  Noah’s stomach tightened. Her tone had been low and sad and furious. What was her story, anyway? Then he turned toward Tabitha. So what? She could’ve blown town. Easy.

  She caught his expression. “Part of the, ah, fight was caught on a cell phone video by one of the miscreants. That video is in the possession of Detective Smartass there, and apparently he only keeps things in a bank vault.”

  Ah. So she was caught on video and had to get it back before disappearing. It was imperative, considering she’d live forever, probably, and couldn’t remain on video in this timeframe. He gave her a light nod. “Understood.”

  Ivar kept his focus on the dirty window. “I know a great bank robber. She’s a demoness, too.”


  Damn it.

  Mariana turned toward him. “You seem to have an interest with the occult and the otherworld. With maybe hell and repercussions? The demons, Ivar.”

  Ivar blinked and looked at her. “The occult? Huh?”

  Was now a good time to tell her that Noah and Ivar were both demon-vampire hybrids? Probably not. Noah elbowed Ivar. “Ignore his vernacular. We learned such pseudonyms in the military.”

  Yeah, right. Man, this was a disaster.

  * * * *

  Abby tried not to feel sympathy for the screwed-up guy who looked like one of those actors from the Viking show on Netflix. He really did see demons everywhere. She smiled at the detective. Without him, she’d be in jail right now. The guy definitely had come to her aid, when everyone else was against her.

  He smiled back.

  The sexy guy next to Ivar pinned her with a look. Noah. Such a nice name for somebody so obviously dangerous. What was it about him? Heat climbed into her face, and she turned toward the shrink. “I’m not sure what all to say.” Nobody believed the truth. Except maybe the cop.

  “Just tell us what happened,” Mariana said, clutching her files.

  “Well, I agreed to a plea bargain for throwing a pitcher at my ex-husband’s head during a domestic dispute that the asshat started and finished.” The judge had warned her, very sternly, about slander charges if she said anything bad against Monte, so she stuck with the judge’s final Order. It didn’t matter that she’d never even had a chance to throw a pitcher before he’d hit her. She still had bruises on her ribs from that last fight. “The prosecutor was going for a jail sentence, and I took a plea deal that Detective O’Connell made sure I could get.” Abby sat back.

  Mariana blinked. “Your file shows several arrests and plea bargains.”

  “Yeah. I’ve read my file,” Abby said, not expecting anybody to believe the truth. They never did.

  Mariana tapped a file. “I can’t help you with your anger issues if you don’t delve into the full truth about where your anger comes from.” Her voice was soft and kind.