Demon Fire (Angel Fire #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,49

which involved ascending to Numen or descending from Numen to Earth. They said it was easier than using the Mist since they could come across warrior and demon battles.

Or the “warriors” could just be stepping off the patio, spinning around the cove made by the terrace, and jumping the fence. Maybe they’d parked a block away like he’d done at Alma’s place. Boone had come this far by playing along; he wasn’t going to question it too heavily.

Leaning against the sliding doors, Jagger towered over the group. He was dressed like the others. Dark, long-sleeved shirt and tactical pants. On the streets, people would wonder whether they were law enforcement or EMS workers. But this was Vegas. They might not get spared more than a glance.

Jagger’s stern gaze dimmed when he spotted Sierra. “Finally, we can get this over with.”

He flipped a folder onto the coffee table. Harlowe and Urban didn’t make a move for it. Had they gone through it when Boone was upstairs?

Sierra walked to the folder and flipped through the contents. “Shari Smith. Twenty-nine. Vegas license and Idaho birth certificate.”

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere,” Jagger stated. His arrogant tone demoted his likability in Boone’s mind. The only other words Boone had heard him say were, “Go get her. I don’t have all day.” So his likability had been at ground level to start.

“What if we need to go somewhere?” Boone crowded behind Sierra as if he could protect her from the warrior’s glare. Were these three some form of military? A private security company? And the angels and demon talk just code?

Sierra didn’t fit the mold, but perhaps that was why she was on the outs.

Over a week of this shit and he still couldn’t work out any details. Proving them would be harder.

“You don’t need to go anywhere,” Jagger said evenly.

Boone’s patience snapped. He was irritated with the new guy and he was frustrated that Jagger had something to do with why Sierra didn’t want her former team to know she was pregnant. They might not take her into consideration when she decided what she wanted to do about the baby.

“Look, since she fell or whatever the hell you call it, she’s been good. She notified you when trouble came to town and she didn’t expect you to save her ass.” Boone stalked closer to Jagger. “If she wants to go get some clothes that don’t look like a garage sale puked all over her, she should be able to.”

Jagger’s brows dropped lower with each sentence. “It’s not up to you.” He pushed off the door and crossed his arms, biceps bulging. Was it a show of power? Boone could do the same. “Boone Reamer. Five years as a cop, another six ATF. Three of those years spent undercover. Until your wife—”

“I know my own fucking story.”

“—and kid were killed when the undercover operation was busted—by your wife. It took another four years to clean up the legal mess. And here you are, wondering why I won’t let you or Sierra take any lead, or have any flexibility where this mission is concerned. People end up maimed or dead around the both of you.”

Boone punched Jagger. A solid right hook to the cheek. Jagger’s head flung back but he didn’t move otherwise, as if he’d expected it.

Boone’s chest heaved and his arms were yanked behind him. Telling Sierra his story had lifted ten tons of guilt off his shoulders. He’d always carry the blame, but when he’d verbalized it, it had sounded like the tragic event it was. Surrounded by people who claimed to be angels and demons, he’d owned that he and his wife were only human. And they’d epically fucked up like only humans could.

But having Jagger rattle off what had happened, like he was reciting some file about a stranger? Fuck, no. He wasn’t putting up with it.

Urban growled into Boone’s ear. “Settle the fuck down.”

“He baited him,” Sierra said, defending Boone’s actions. “We all know it.”

“Things are finally getting interesting,” Sandeen drawled.

“Calm down,” Harlowe snapped. “All of you. Boone, sit. Jagger, back to the door. Urban, you have to let Boone go first.”

Boone’s arms were released, but he didn’t sit. He shook his throbbing hand. Hardheaded bastard.

“So now that we have that out of the way.” Jagger worked his jaw. A red mark on Jagger’s cheek was the only sign he’d been hit. “You see how this looks to us, never mind the fact that we’re all risking our existence being