Demon Fire (The Angel Fire Book 3) by Marie Johnston (top 10 novels of all time TXT) 📕

knew their roles. If Urban didn’t trust him or Sierra, that was the warrior’s problem.

Boone got on his bike, cranked it to life, and sped away. He didn’t care where he parked; he didn’t plan on leaving on his bike tonight. He wouldn’t be leaving alone, either.

The same bouncer that had first let him into the club was working the door. He lifted his chin toward Boone and cocked his head to the entrance. Boone was getting in right away again. He might not put out, but the ladies liked to look at him.

He stopped by the big guy. “Your boss looking for help?”

“Dunno. Could ask.” The bouncer didn’t give away more than that. Did they get asked a lot?

“Thanks, man.” Boone pushed through the entrance and all the way to the bar. He’d gotten used to the noise, but he hated the music.

Kinsey twirled through the dance floor right to him. She had her hands high in the air, her ass swaying. “Jack-jack.” She giggled like it was cute.

For fuck’s sake. His nerves didn’t need her on top of everything else tonight.

She bit her lip and feathered her fingers over her bare collarbone. Each night, she wore the same style of dress.

“Wanna dance?” She leaned so far in to ask, her minty breath wafted over his cheek.

He leaned to the side. “No, thanks.” Her hand caught his attention. Under the lights, he made out a faint tan line. “You married, or just divorced?”

Her sexy façade drained and her lips formed a line as hard as steel. “I’ve been out almost every night of the week for the last two months and he hasn’t even noticed.”

Still married, then. “Why don’t you talk to him?”

“I shouldn’t have to. His only interest is in making money. If I ask him to talk, all I get is ‘I have to work’ and flowers the next day.”

He rubbed the spot between his brows. “Jesus, Kinsey. Men are stupid. Make him fucking listen—but not because you’ve fucked some sad sack in a club, popped a shitload of pills, or told his competitors all his best secrets. If you suck up some pride first, it might save you a lot of hurt.”

Emotions rippled over her face. Pain, fury, consideration, more pain. He didn’t know her or her husband, but fuck, he’d seen one outcome of this game. This club would make sure of it, but if she’d been clinging to him and his rebuffs, then she must want her husband more than a wild fling.

“F-fuck you.” She stormed off.

Good. One problem taken care of.

A whiskey sour was slid in front of him. “You lost your chance.” The bartender wiped a spot that was already gleaming. “Sounds like you and her husband have something in common.”

“Once upon a time,” he agreed and bypassed his standard sip for a big gulp.

“I’ll get that second drink ready, then.” The bartender chuckled and went to fill another order.

Boone slowed down on his whiskey sour and watched the clientele. Could he tell if there were more demons present than the other nights?

Soul-cringing sexual activity still took place in the booths. Dancers continued to gyrate. But instead of one person in the cage, two or more were crowded in and—he had to look away. There was more bare skin than usual. The bouncers were on high alert, but Sierra had said she’d never seen them possessed.

So, yeah, there must be an increase.

He scanned the entrance and exits. Nothing unusual. A scowl dropped his brows as one of the bouncers manning the door led two middle-aged men toward the elevators.

He’d never seen others go to the second floor during his nights here. Was that common? Sierra hadn’t said Andy held meetings during the day. Were these the hosts she’d run into earlier?

Minutes ticked by. Kinsey didn’t come back and Boone nursed his second drink. Movement at the window caught his attention. Finally.

Sierra’s arms were crossed and she stood in the far corner, closer to where he figured her living quarters were. He hadn’t seen her clearly for over a month, and he wanted to ask questions that she didn’t answer in her messages. Was she sleeping well? Had she felt the baby kick yet? Was the midwife decent?

He didn’t want to take his eyes off her, but he had to notify the rest of the team she was visible. The plan was to call with a simple phrase that wouldn’t sound odd to anyone who overheard. He could send a message, but the people here were nosy, including the bartender.

As he put the phone to his ear, the bartender appeared. “Hey, Joel said you asked about a job.”

Urban hadn’t answered yet. Boone nodded, wishing the bartender had waited two minutes. It rang again.

“Boss can’t meet with you tonight, but leave your information—”

“Yeah,” Urban answered.

Boone nodded at the bartender but spoke quietly into the phone. “It’s pretty busy tonight.”

“Got it. We’re moving in.”

Boone was about to hang up when the bartender’s gaze lifted to the window and his forehead crinkled. Boone shot up, wrongness vibrating along every nerve of is body. The view at the window chilled him down to his bones. The two men from the elevator were dragging Sierra away from the window. He couldn’t hear a thing, but her mouth was moving and she struggled as much as she could without hurting herself or her precious cargo.

“They’ve got her,” Boone said into the phone and shot across the bar, pushing men and women out of his way. “Fuck, they’re grabbing her.”

Chapter 18

Boone clutched the phone as he dove for the stairwell. He didn’t bother to check if the bouncers were on his heels, or how close they were. He didn’t care. He smashed the phone against the wall as he took the stairs two, sometimes three, at a time.

The door a level above him banged open, but he didn’t look up. It had to be the angels, but Boone wasn’t waiting for them.

Pushing out the door to the second