Demon Fire (Angel Fire #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,37

send a report. A tablet might do. Something that’ll connect to Wi-Fi. Alma’s is too old.”

“If I pay for it—”

“If Alma pays for it.”

Boone watched the exchange. Urgency rippled over Sierra’s body. She snatched a grocery bag lying on the counter and dumped the gun and ammo inside, followed by a paring knife that matched the ones Alma owned. Had that been hidden in her shirt?

“My host, my decision.” Was this a multiple personality thing? “If I buy it, you have to tell your team that I’m not the bad guy.”

“That’s still up for debate.”

Alma swept an arm at Jim. “I could’ve let him take you.”

“Just because you don’t want Andy to get me doesn’t mean you don’t have your own plans.”

Alma just shrugged. “That’s the deal. I have keys and more money than you. See if your boyfriend will take you.”

Boone was no one’s boyfriend.

“He has to come with us,” Sierra said.

She’d tried getting away from him less than an hour ago. Now she was telling him that he was leaving with her? “I don’t have to do—”

“They’re after me, Boone. Demons. Real ones from the underworld. I have no other help on Earth.” She shot Alma a dubious glare. “Other than him. Jim knows I was with you. That’ll be enough for them to find and torture you.”

Did he stand and argue, or did he play along? Jim had broken into the house. Boone had heard him. Jim’s chest was rising and falling. These two hadn’t killed him. If Boone played along, he could find out what they were up to.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Sierra blinked at his abrupt attitude change. “I need a laptop.”

“We’ll pick one up at the next town that sells them.” Where were they going anyway?

Alma pushed out of her chair—slowly. “Now, just wait a minute.”

“Looks like we don’t need you.” Sierra gripped the grocery bag and spun. “Let’s go.”

“They’ll kill this host when they try to find me.”

Sierra stopped. A beat of relief passed through Boone. She cared about the woman. Who “they” were and how they would hurt Alma, or her personality Sandeen, he wasn’t sure.

She met his gaze. “He’s right. Alma’s innocent in all this.”

“We call the police as we leave. Jim might be breathing, but he could be seriously hurt.” He got his phone from his jacket pocket. As he called in the report, Sierra got into her coat and grabbed Alma’s bag. Alma shrugged into her own coat. “I’m parked down the street,” he said and they charged outside, Sierra and Alma first.

His foot had hit the sidewalk, one arm stretched behind him to shut the door without locking it so the police could get in, when he nearly bumped into Alma. Looking up, he stilled.

A tall man and a woman, just as tall, were standing at the end of the path to the sidewalk. Both were dressed in long-sleeved black shirts and black tactical pants. Neither wore winter gear of any type and both stood as if they were impervious to the cold.

The woman with long blond hair and surreal amethyst eyes evaluated Alma. “Well,” the new woman said. “We meet again.”

Chapter 8

Sierra skidded to a stop. Alma knocked into her, but the host’s slight weight was hardly noticeable.

“Harlowe. Urban.” She swallowed hard. It’d been almost three months since she’d seen her teammates but those months could’ve been a day. All the same emotions were there. Longing. Regret. Betrayal.

The last one was laughable. She’d betrayed her team. When they’d found out, they’d worked with her long enough to catch the angel who’d blackmailed her. Then they’d carted her into custody. None of them had spoken up during her sentencing. She hadn’t looked up to see if they’d been in the audience when Winger had carved her downy wings from her back. She still didn’t know if it would be better or worse if they had witnessed her demise.

“What are you doing with—” Harlowe’s jaw clenched. She couldn’t say what she wanted around Boone. “This. Thing.”

“That’s Sandeen,” Sierra answered.

“I know.”

Right. His name had sounded familiar, but Sierra hadn’t had time to scour her memory banks. When Harlowe said his name, Sierra finally recalled the report. Sandeen had encountered Harlowe and her leader’s mate outside of the human cult-slash-club Fall From Grace. Harlowe had fought him off, and she held grudges. Plus, he was a demon.

“And this is Boone. We told him about us, but he doesn’t believe it yet.”

“Sierra,” Harlowe hissed.

“What does it matter?” Sierra adjusted her hold on her bags.