Chapter Twenty-Eight
Angel sat in the driver’s seat of her Jeep and looked at the building in front of her. Outwardly, it appeared to be a storage locker facility, and she was guessing most of the building probably functioned as just such a thing. It made a good cover. It was large, hosting dozens of lockers the size of two-car garage. Each sliding door boasted a fresh coat of red-orange paint that she happened to know for a fact was called “International Orange.” It was the same color as the Golden Gate Bridge.
There was a front office to the facility, and surrounding the entirety of the grounds was a chain link fence topped with barbed wire. There didn’t seem to be anyone around outside. All was quiet around the building.
She glanced at the pinpoint on her phone’s map, then looked up again at the storage facility. This was definitely the place.
Angel took a deep breath, ignored the shiver that moved through her, and the heat that coiled in her stomach, then turned her phone off and pocketed it. “Okay, Angel. You can do this.” She leaned over and locked the passenger door, then got out and locked her own, shutting it tight. Hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, she approached the entrance.
The drive was wide enough for moving vans to come through, but it was also guarded by a tall, black sliding wrought-iron fence, and there were cameras posted on both sides nice and high. The gate was closed at the moment, which Angel had been able to see from a distance. That was why she’d pulled over and decided to walk up. If she had to, she could walk around the property’s perimeter to try to find a way in.
But an intercom speaker on one of the gate’s posts staticked to life, making Angel jump. She whirled around to face the camera above it.
“Miss Clemens,” the speaker said. The voice was deep and beautiful, even over the electronic filter. But she didn’t recognize it.
She tried not to look right up into the camera; that was awkward. Instead, she just nodded. “Yes,” she said. She thought about how to explain her presence, but was spared from having to say anything further when the speaker piped up again.
“You can drive your Jeep through, Miss Clemens.” The voice seemed to be amused, as if whoever was on the other end was quietly laughing at her. That made her blush.
But she hugged herself – the wind today in San Francisco was cold and she was already so nervous at the thought of seeing Jake – and just nodded. “Right,” she said softly. As she turned away to walk back to the Jeep, she muttered, “You could have opened the gate while I was sitting there and I would have driven through automatically.”
As if the man on the other end of the intercom heard her, which was frankly impossible, the speaker bristled to life again. “You’re right,” the man said with a chuckle. Angel paused and blinked at the speaker and camera. Whoever was on the other end really did have a nice voice, good natured and attractive. “I was away from the desk and didn’t see you until just now. My bad,” he said, laughing again. “Come on through.”
The gate buzzed and began to slide open. Angel watched it for a moment, then got back into her Jeep, started it up, and took it through the open gate until her window was flush with the intercom. She rolled down her window. She was going to ask where to park, but he beat her to it.
“Head all the way through to the back and park,” the voice said. “I’ll unlock the gray door for you. Take the hall to the end and go left down the stairs. You’ll find a number of underground garages there.” He paused a moment as she memorized the instructions. Then he came back, and that amused tone was in his voice again. “You want door number seven.”
The intercom staticked off, and Angel squeezed the steering wheel for courage as she drove through the long lot, around a few corners, and to the very back of the facility until she was in an empty parking lot facing one long building with several doors. They were painted different colors.
She left the Jeep locked up again and made her way to the gray door. She didn’t fail to notice the plethora of cameras perched atop the building at various angles. This was no small amount of security, but it was also a really smart front. Anyone renting a storage closet would expect such security, after all. It would make them feel safer.
Angel felt anything but safe when the door buzzed loudly just as she approached it. Whoever was on the other end of those cameras was watching her every move. But she tried not to think about it too much as she went through the door and it shut soundly behind her. She made her way down the long hall until it intersected into two sets of concrete stairs that led down to the left and right.
She turned left, descending the stairs until she entered a large underground area with more garage-sized storage lockers. They were numbered five through ten. One through five must have been on the other side; she would have seen them if she’d gone right.
As Angel stood there in front of the lockers, she could make out faint sounds. Metal on metal, shifting sounds, the clanking of what sounded like tools in a chest. They were coming from behind door seven. Who was on the other side? She approached it slowly, and when she was around two feet away, the noises stopped.
Angel froze. Fear clutched at her; suddenly she wanted to turn back around and flee.
But she was already in so much trouble… and she’d already come this far. And Cain knew she was here, so she was officially receiving sanctuary… right?
She swallowed hard and raised her hand to press the call button beside the door to garage number seven. But before she could press it, the garage door began to slide up.
Angel gasped and took a step back, watching with mounting apprehension as the widening space revealed a set of motorcycle boots, worn jeans over strong, sculpted legs, a narrow waist – Shit! He’s not wearing a shirt! All he had adorning his upper body was the silver bear claw pendant he sometimes wore. It made him look like a rock star from the Abyss, sent to drive women to sign contracts.
Ridges of strength graced his torso, sending Angel’s little heart into overdrive. Oh holy hell, she thought breathlessly. The son of a bitch actually had that V-shaped section of muscle that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. Elena and Cass had told her it was called the “Adonis belt.” She could see why. She’d never seen one in the flesh before. She had a feeling Gabriel probably had that muscle, but he was always clothed in front of her.
Angel’s mouth had gone completely dry. Like a brainless zombie, she stood there and let her gaze wander up his body, raking over his six pack abs, strong broad chest, wide, god-like shoulders, and… finally landing in the absolute trap that was his wickedly beautiful face.
Jacob Crow’s gray-green eyes glittered madly in the overhead fluorescent lights. He was smiling at her like a cat who’d just found a mouse to play with. “Angel,” he said, speaking her name like it was a sexual act in and of itself. “Come in.”
He took a step back, allowing her just enough room to pass through the garage’s opening. She did so. Then his gaze fell to her clothing, and his smile became a smirk. “Get lost on the way to grandmother’s house?” he asked softly.
Angel blinked a few times, her lips parting in confusion. She was still stunned by his lack of a shirt, but she looked down and his reference dawned on her. She was actually wearing a red zip-up hoodie underneath her leather jacket. The hood was sticking out, of course. She always wore layers; San Francisco could get really cold.
“Oh,” she said quietly. She’d lost her voice somewhere along that journey up his body.
Suddenly she wondered what the hell was wrong with her. Shy? Quiet? Just because a man was shirtless? She never behaved like this. Jacob Crow was destabilizing her. She frowned, angry with herself, but looked up suddenly when Jake reached a strong arm around her to press the button on the wall that closed the garage door.
She was so focused on his nearness that she jumped at the sound of the garage door beginning its descent. She glanced at it, then whirled back around to face him. He watched her with quiet amusement as he wiped his hands on a rag, never once taking his eyes from her. “What brings you to the wolf’s den, little red?” He leaned his head to the side, his gaze sparkling.
Angel tried to calm the almost painful racing of her heart, but failed. It went on beating like an insane hummingbird. Still, she was stubborn. Playing it nonchalant, she tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder and said, “I –”
But he moved closer and tossed the towel on the nearby bench before placing one strong hand to the wall beside her head. He was a good deal taller than her, and she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
She inhaled sharply. “I just came to….” Her voice trailed off.
“Yes?” he asked. His lips were close. His damn body was close. He smelled like soap, sweat, and engine oil, and every marble-sculpted muscle in his body seemed coiled to pounce. Angel was suddenly very unsure of herself. She was surrounded by hard metal and power tools, and every single thing in a fifty-foot radius suddenly felt like a testosterone-laden innuendo.
She was on shaky ground. This was his turf, and he was right. She’d stumbled into the wolf’s den.
Courage, Angel. Get yourself together and do what you came here to do! She cleared her throat and said, “I came to talk to you about the Apex job.”
He raised a brow, no doubt impressed with her audacity, and she had to admit she wasn’t far behind him. Had she really managed to formulate that sentence aloud? She was surprised because the spreading heat in the pit of her stomach and the growing weakness in her legs certainly wasn’t helping her string any words together.
He contemplated her for a very tense while, a furious glimmer illuminating his pupils. Angel couldn’t keep her eyes from darting between his lips and his fierce green gaze.
Finally, he straightened, dropping his hand to free her from her would-be cage. He slowly turned his broad back to her, and strode casually to the bike in the center of the garage.
This was the first time Angel had seen his back without clothes on. For a moment, she forgot to breathe, but it was more than his sculpted expanse of bronzed skin that held her in its breathless sway. It was also the intricate tattoo that had been inked in deep black across his muscled back. The tattoo was a crow, its enormous black wings spread in all their glory, their length sweeping from shoulder to shoulder. A full moon rose behind the massive black bird as if it were a portent. She’d never seen a more stunning tattoo.
Except… in her dreams. The crow against the moon. It was the image from the dreams that had kept her tossing and turning for weeks now.
“You’re a little out of your jurisdiction for the Apex job, Vega.” Jake said, using her clan name to emphasize the fact that the job didn’t belong to her and he knew it. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t really speak, still stunned by everything about the man before her.
Besides, even if she had been able to speak, she didn’t know what to say to that. He was right about the job being out of Vega’s jurisdiction. She could understand why he wouldn’t think the job had anything to do with her.
But in actuality, it did. And it was imperative that she obtain whatever information he had on it, by any means necessary.
So snap out of it, she told herself. But the order was given a little too weakly, and she continued to stare.
He chuckled softly. Angel’s gaze narrowed on his back as he fiddled with some bike part. His muscles flexed and flowed with the slightest movement, making her fingers itch to touch them. Her lips tingled to kiss them.
And now she was more mad at herself than ever. She wondered what the hell he was laughing at. She was beginning to lose patience, not just with him but with her own idiocy. Fear and anxiety were seeping in around the cracks in her will power. But that was a good thing. It was better than lust. It was more focused on work, anyway.
His laughter faded, but he remained turned away from her. Her task seemed insurmountable just then, his back like an actual wall, keeping her from getting what she needed. But she was a hot mess. One night of sleep had restored a lot of her strength, but it was one night after two and a half weeks of doing without, and she was beginning to think things were only going to get harder from here on out. After all, this obsession she had with Crow wasn’t going to go away. And neither would the Apex.
If she didn’t deal with this now, she would fall apart. Her magic would falter. And where would she be without her healing ability? She hadn’t even erected most of her wards today since she wanted to save what magical strength she had for emergency healings just in case. She’d put up the most basic of mental defenses for a warden and called it good. It pissed her off to have to choose. It really pissed her off! She hated being weak! It meant a loss of control! And she hated losing control! At this point, she would give almost anything – No, not almost! I would give anything to be superhuman strong!
Across the garage, Jacob Crow straightened, his hard body stiffening as if he were suddenly listening for something. She could feel his swift shift into tension even from where she stood against the wall. Slowly, he turned his head to face her, and his eyes caught hers in a vice-like grip. She had the abrupt impression that he was undressing her, searching her, as if looking for something that he couldn’t quite see.
Angel staggered under the intensity of that gaze. What she wouldn’t have done for a little Dutch courage just then. But she was working and it was ten in the morning, so she guessed it wasn’t in the cards. Not that she wasn’t an adult and it wasn’t a free country, who cared about the time…. But besides, what she really could have gone for was a cup of something warm and comforting.
She forced herself to take a deep breath and tried to swallow past the sandy desert that was forming in her throat.
“L-look, I know this isn’t my jurisdiction. I know the Apex’s last victims were here, and that makes the case officially yours, but….” She faltered. How did she tell him that this case meant everything to her? How did she word it without sounding like she’d wandered off the reservation and was making a mountain out of a molehill? She could just imagine herself spouting the truth: Sorry, but I really need to hunt this Apex down and kill him once and for all because he’s stalking me and giving me nightmares and I can feel him sometimes watching me, and he’s attacking people and leaving his victims like calling cards all around me, and I just know in my heart that he’s leaving them for me.
Angel felt the blood drain from her face as memories assaulted her. She saw bloodless, lifeless faces, the drained bodies of dozens. She recalled murders that had taken place a decade and a half ago… one after another. All because she refused to see the evidence that was there sooner. She refused to see the obvious. And then because she refused to face the truth of what she saw.
She felt dizzy suddenly and she lowered her head, tearing her gaze from Crow’s. She placed her hand to her forehead; it was cool against her fevered skin. I’m not going to make that mistake twice.
“I was thinking of getting a drink,” Jake said suddenly and softly – from directly in front of her.
Angel’s head snapped up. He was less than half a foot away again, and she hadn’t heard him move.
“Would you care to join me?” He planted his jade colored gaze in hers, setting her cheeks on fire. Join me… in what, again? Her thoughts ricocheted uselessly against the inside of her skull as she once more found herself trapped between a rock and a hard place. He was so tall, and his eyes dug furrows into her soul.
She prayed he wouldn’t notice her traitorous blush when she realized she couldn’t remember what it was he was offering her.
“For what?” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, and barely came out at all.
He smiled slowly, and her eyes slipped to his lips. They were really nice lips… sensual, curved just right. Crazy kissable.
“A drink,” he repeated calmly, in absolute control. “I know a place not far from here that makes the best Hot White Russians you’ve ever tasted.”
Damn, she thought. I want that control.
Then again, maybe he just wasn’t affected by her at all… so very unlike the way she was affected by him and had been since the moment their eyes met in that meeting with the sovereigns a few weeks ago.
She tried to clear her throat. When she failed, she ripped her eyes from his beautiful face again and looked at the garage floor. Spiked coffee sounded perfect, actually. She wanted something warm. And she wanted alcohol. Bullets and beer….
She said quietly, “That sounds really good.”