Demon Fire (Angel Fire #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,63
in?” She winced. “Poor choice of words.”
“Only he could still do that even after losing his legs.” Bryant swept upstairs.
In the kitchen, Millie took a bite of bread and groaned as rich chocolate sweetness burst over her tongue. Odessa was right. Her taste buds were having a full-on orgy.
She sighed. The moment of pleasure was brief. She might have to eat the entire jar to forget today.
What was she going to do? She’d been a fool to think that touching herself would be enough.
“Millie?” Bryant’s voice broke into her thoughts.
She pushed off the counter. How long had she been pouting? “Yes?” She met Bryant at the entry.
The corner of Bryant’s eyes crinkled. His version of a smile. “I’ll come again in a few days.”
“He’ll be there.” Right there. Left side or right side. That was all that changed.
Bryant took a step, then stopped. He turned, tipping his head toward her, and whispered, “And whatever you’re doing, keep going. It’s working.”
He breezed out the door, his wings barely clearing the frame before the door slammed shut behind him.
She stared at the wood panel for a full minute.
It’s working.
Slanting her gaze up the stairs, she thought of a conversation she’d overheard once during her work as a chaperone. Three kids, fully grown, had surrounded a mother who’d lived a long, full life. It’d been a privilege to guide her to the light. But as the woman lay dying, the children fondly swapped stories of when they were younger. One was about how their mother had fed them the same meal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if they refused to at least taste everything on their plate.
Leo wasn’t a child, but he wouldn’t let himself get so weak she had to spoon-feed him again. He’d eat. And when he ate, he might have no choice but to enjoy the little pleasures life had to offer.
She went back to the kitchen, humming to herself, and fixed another slice of bread covered in Nutella.
Chapter 14
Traffic flowed around them. Boone didn’t want to get too far ahead of Harlowe. Sierra had been quiet since the doctor put the picture in her hand. She’d nodded at whatever the doctor said and walked out of the clinic as dazed as a newly made zombie. They hadn’t stopped to make another appointment.
She clutched the black-and-white photo in her hand. The corner was going to be permanently wrinkled from her hold on it.
He pulled off the 215 and turned right to get to the neighborhood their safe house was in. Harlowe followed in her nondescript black sedan. He adjusted his speed to stay consistent with traffic. Don’t stand out. Don’t lose Harlowe. They needed her trust.
The warriors had given him a burner phone to contact them in case they got separated. If they were smart, they’d be able to track him with it too. He hadn’t bothered to check. There were worse things than angels following him.
Two blocks before their place, a guy lurched across the sidewalk. His mouth moved but that didn’t always mean anything in the days of Bluetooth. Yet the erratic way he walked, unable to follow a straight line, sent alarms through Boone’s head.
Sierra straightened, but kept looking ahead. “Archmaster.”
“Damn.” They approached the end of the block. A red car was parked two houses away from the corner. “What about this guy?”
Someone was in the passenger seat.
“Can you slow down?”
He rolled past and she shook her head. “I couldn’t tell.”
He took the phone out and handed it to her. “See what Harlowe says.”
Her moves were efficient. She didn’t set the ultrasound print down, but it didn’t slow her movements with the phone.
He idled down the next block. There was a navy blue delivery van sitting outside the safe house. “Shit.” All the deliveries they needed had been made in the days after they’d first arrived.
There was no time to wait for Harlowe’s permission. He increased his speed. He wasn’t stopping until he knew for certain it was safe.
A delivery guy wearing a navy polo that matched the van was walking up the path to the front door. At the sound of the pickup, he turned slowly, his moves eerily jerky.
Boone glanced over, his expression neutral, like he was just a normal dude a few blocks from home. The delivery man had stopped, his gaze intent.
Sierra did the same as Boone. A glance over and then out the windshield. Neither one said anything until they passed.
Just as Sierra said, “Archmaster,” the delivery man sprinted to his vehicle.