did?” I straightened and then barked more laughter. My demon slunk off, disgusted with my emotional outburst. I only laughed harder as I slumped against the wall, exhausted but oh so wonderfully human. My clothes clung to the thin sheen of sweat. I wiped a hand across my forehead. “He was playing with you.”
Stefan balked and brushed a fleck of something off his arm. “I think you’ll find I was playing with him. Until you showed up.”
“Excuse me for trying to save your ass.”
“My ass?” His gaze slid from my head to my toes, sprinkling desire in its wake. A touch of delight glinted in his eyes. He might have closed the meager distance between us had we not been interrupted by a hooded figure emerging from a doorway, aiming the business end of an M16 at me. Beneath the hood, a filthy scarf covered his face, so all I could see was his sharp-eyed glare. He jerked the gun and his chin in unison, indication we should lift our hands, and stood with the innate arrogance of those familiar with guns and how to use them.
Stefan and I stilled. Was this guy for real? He wasn’t an enforcer. They all had rods up their asses. Plus he hid his face. He had to be a rebel, one of the street militia, civilians who thought they knew better than the professionals and usually bought themselves early graves because of it. I lifted my hands to buy time while I tried to read him. Dirty boots, scuffed and torn jeans stained with oil, and a size too big or in fashion, depending on his age.
Another guy, taller, leaner, moved in from the opposite end of the alley. His assault rifle didn’t fit as easily with his spindly frame, but his severe eyes peering through the wrapped scarf left no room for negotiation.
Stefan arched an eyebrow. He was thinking the same thing: amateurs.
“You don’t wanna do this,” I warned, startled by the normal humanity of my words. I was still coming down off my demon high and not exactly grounded. Stefan would be feeling it too: an itch to get back into the fight. These men had no idea they’d trapped monsters in that alley.
“Oh, I think we do, Charley,” the skinny one said.
I knew that voice. “Coleman?”
He tugged down his scarf and smiled tightly. “Nice to see you alive.”
“What the—?” I gawped and lowered my hands. “You’re with the militia?”
He nodded. “I’m not the only one.”
I swung my gaze back to the quiet guy and reassessed my appraisal. The dirty rag covering his face wouldn’t have fooled me for long. Ex-military. You could tell it in his deceptively relaxed stance. Carefully, I eased forward, in front of Stefan, and lifted my gaze, noticing how our captor had tensed his grip on the rifle. “Just know,” I warned, “if you lift that rifle, I’ll bring the fire to this party, and you don’t want that, do you…Ryder?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ryder tugged his scarf down and shrugged back his hood. His gaze rested on me for a few seconds before settling on Stefan. I expected a growl from Stefan but heard only his soft even breathing. Ryder wasn’t a threat to him, not any more.
“Goddammit, Muse. Can’t I do anything without you showing up to piss on my parade?” His words were hard, but his smile was soft.
I puffed out the breath I’d been holding. “You’re with the militia?”
Coleman moved up behind me, sidestepping around Stefan with deserved reverence. “Boston PD’s Special Response Team is what we are. You didn’t think we were going to sit on our hands while the Institute did whatever the hell they pleased, did you?”
I blinked at Coleman and tried to come to terms with the shrewd man standing before me and the ways in which he didn’t match the clean-cut detective I’d helped in the past. Nope. I couldn’t do it. This was Coleman, for hell’s sake, the coffee-drinking, curious detective who’d hired me as a consultant to answer questions about all things demon, the one taking notes about their weak spots, their end-game, and who wanted to know all about Akil and the other princes. Well, maybe the signs that Coleman had been up to something were there. But Ryder?
“The militia?” I asked again.
He grunted. “I reckon I got some explaining to do.” His smile died when he regarded Stefan. “Just so we’re straight, I don’t trust you. I don’t know what you are, but it sure ain’t