Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons (3 page)

me inside, or I’m going to kick the shit out of you. Your choice.”

Maybe it was the slant of my jaw, or the numbness radiating up his

arm, but either way, his attitude changed. He swallowed, Adam’s apple

bobbing. “Miller?” He ran his finger down his clipboard, his eyes wide with

surprise. “Here it is. N. Miller.”

My eyes followed his finger, and damn if N. Miller wasn’t written in

an angelic chicken scratch. “Thanks.”

As quickly as I grabbed Ape-man’s arm, I released him, sending him

flying back two steps into the faded brick exterior of the building. I grinned,

and pushed past the velvet rope and faux flame to enter the club. My nostrils

wrinkled at the sudden stench of sweat, sulfur, and skin. The angel followed

behind me, keeping to the shadows, which was odd since no one could see

him anyway.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkened room, I glanced around, taking

careful note of the exits. It paid to be prepared. Under a flash of red lights

timed to the thump of overhead speakers, pale, thin bodies of coked up

models and their rich, cokehead boyfriends swayed.

The club itself was nice enough with lots of chrome and exposed

brick. A few tables offered a semblance of privacy, as did the VIP alcove. A

bar ran along the back wall. Outrageously expensive bottles of liquor lined

the back bar while bartenders dressed in black poured watered-down

varieties of cheaper fare.

A dreadlocked DJ spun ear piercing drum and bass beats. Maybe I

was just too old, but each song sounded the same. Thump, thump, beat, beat,

thump, thump. Yawn.

Leather skirted girls maneuvered through the crowd carrying trays of

multi-colored drinks. Whatever happened to plain old whiskey, vodka, or

gin?

From the bar, I counted off three tables. A reserved sign sat on top

the last one. I walked toward it, searching the club for Bogart or Kojak. What

did a supernatural detective look like?

My gaze locked on the owner of the club who lounged in the VIP

section, sipping Crystal. I doubted the bartender watered down his drink. Mr.

Big wore a red velvet sweat suit, and enough gold to give Fort Knox a

complex, but he was nothing more than a pretty-bad-boy with bleached white

hair, bleached white teeth, and enough laundered money to open his own

chain of dry cleaners. Poor little rich boy.

Bodyguards and young groupies hung on Mr. Big’s every word like

the Sermon on the Mount. The bodyguards mimicked the club look in an

array of similarly colored suits, chains, and guns. They reminded me of a

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pathetic boy band without the non-threatening sexuality. Not-So-N-Synched.

I sat at my table and waved my hand to get the waitress’ attention.

She ignored me. Must be my suit.

“I do not like this place.” The angel stood over me, breathing his

horrific angel breath down my neck.

“Yeah, I’m not a fan either.” I brushed away a glob of angelic spit. “I

probably can’t afford one drink. But this might be as close to rich and famous

as I’ll ever get.”

“Rich yes, infamous….” The angel shrugged.

“What does that mean?” That sounded like a threat. Did the angel

know something?

The sudden scent of sulfur and tobacco filled my nostrils and a flash

of heat rose up my spine as a raven-haired woman wrapped her tattooed arms

around my neck. Her lips, soft and tasting like sin, pressed against mine. The

smoke from the cigarette in her hand curled around us, trapping me in her

embrace.

For a few seconds I did nothing. Then my brain kicked in. A

beautiful woman sucked on my tongue. Do something, my mind ordered. My

body caught up quick enough, and my arms pulled her closer. The warmth of

her breasts pressed through the cotton of Bob’s rental shirt. She was slick

with sweat, as if she had been dancing, but she smelled of baby powder and

brimstone.

She pulled away as quickly as she had arrived. For some reason, I felt

oddly bereft, like I’d lost something important. Her eyes met mine, glowing

yellow in the dark club. A trick of the light?

“Jack and Coke,” I said to break the tension.

“I’m not a waitress.”

“Damn. I thought the service was too good to be true.” I shrugged,

giving her a slow once over. “So who are you?”

She held out her hand. “Lilith.”

I took it. Warm and soft, it fit into mine as if it belonged there.

“Jace.”

“So Jace, what did you lose?” She sat, shoving the reserved sign

across the table and onto the floor.

I frowned. “You’re the PI who helped Hades?”

“I’m not a PI.” With a finger wave, she flagged down a passing

waitress and ordered us drinks. After the waitress left, I touched Lilith’s hand

to gain her attention. “So what are you?”

“I’m more like a lost and found.” She paused, trailing a hand across

the tabletop. “I help the lost find their way.”

“And you’re good at it?” A shiver of awareness flickered through

me, but I ignored the warning, and focused on the sex-goddess in front of me.

“The best.” She licked her red lips, slick with saliva and Vaseline.

“So again Jace, what have you lost? And more importantly, what will you

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give me to help you find it?”

I examined her cat-like eyes, seeing a steel reserve under her

feminine wiles. Messing with this girl would be a mistake, one that I might

willingly make. She wasn’t beautiful like Mary, or even sweet. But there was

something in the way she said my name.

“A baby,” the angel said. “He’s lost a baby.”

She smiled, her eyes never leaving my face. “I see.” The angel’s

sudden appearance didn’t faze her. It was as if she had known he was there,

and was merely waiting for him to speak. Which made me wonder if she was

human or something from the other side.

“Human, I think,” the angel’s voice echoed inside my head. “I can

smell the blood flowing in her veins. It smells like rust, but not unpleasant.”

Damn angel. I hated when he read my thoughts.

“Your child is missing?” She reached for my hand, compassion

softening her features, and for a minute, she was far more beautiful than any

women I’d ever seen, so beautiful that the breath caught in my chest. Then it

was gone.

“Sort of,” I answered. A flash of silver around her ring finger caught

my eye. Was she married? Did it matter? “I’m taking care of him… for a

while.”

“You adopted him? That is so great. I love when couples open their

hearts to a child in need.” She smiled at the angel and then me.

“
What
?” I pulled my hand from hers. “I’m not… we’re not.” I

motioned to the insulted angel. “Oh, forget it. I need to find the kid.”

“And I need you to answer a couple of questions.” She took a long

drink from the pink concoction the waitress sat in front of her seconds ago.

I nodded, praying the topic of God’s only son wouldn’t come up.

“What’s the child’s name?”

“Jes... Hubert Chr… Miller,” I lied, making up an alias. “He goes by

J.C.”

Her lip curled. “How old is he?”

Shit, I had no idea. Did the Messiah age in human years?

“Fourteen months. He was born on Christmas day.” The angel shook

his head at me as if anyone with half a brain should know the answer.

“I always wanted a Christmas birthday. Double presents.” Lilith

glanced around the club, watching the dance floor. “Tell me about his

biological parents.”

Ah, she was good, using subtle, seductive interrogation, like an

afternoon stroll with a hooker through Central Park. How to answer…

Again the angel jumped in, “His mother and step-father died in an

accident.” Which was the truth. They had died in a myrrh explosion at a

small stable in Bethlehem. Who knew myrrh was explosive? Apparently, not

the angel who’d placed it a bit too close to a candle. Mary and Joseph

incinerated before his heavenly eyes, as did two of the three wise men. The

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third one suffered smoke inhalation and burns on his hands from beating out

the flames licking at Baby Jesus’ bed of straw.

“What about his biological father?” Lilith raised an eyebrow.

“He’s very busy. Has a big important job.” I threw back my Jack and

Coke, which tasted more like water and Coke. “I promised to look after the

little guy until he can make suitable arrangements.”

“What made him choose you?”

Ouch, but she had a damn good point. For all intents and purposes, I

was a complete and utter failure, even crazy if one considered the legal

definition. “I have no idea.” It was the most honest thing I’d said in years.

One of the owner’s bodyguards walked past our table, and Lilith took

my hand. Her fingertips trembled as her eyes scanned my face. “How did you

lose J.C.?”

“I didn’t lose him exactly,” I began. “Last night, someone kidnapped

him from my apartment while I was… occupied.”

“You didn’t hear anything?”

I shook my head. Whoever had taken the babe had been quiet, too

quiet to be human. No sign of a break-in either. But I couldn’t tell that to

Lilith, at least not yet.

“Who’d want to take him?” She tapped a tiny, sexy diamond chip

embedded in the side of her nose.

I blinked, willing away the rush of lust. This was a tricky question.

“Like I said before, his father is powerful. J.C. has a bright future.”

She nodded, as if my lame explanation made sense. “What aren’t you

telling me?”

I smiled. “Nothing that matters. So you’ll help me?”

“Yes. I’ll find the child for you, but you have to do something for

me.” She stood and stroked my cheek with a metallic manicured nail. “Dance

with me?”

The music changed from a hard, heavy beat to a slow sensual purr.

My mind said no, but the desire to feel her skin had me rising to my feet. I

knew it was stupid before we hit the dance floor.

Lights swirled around us. They bathed her in an eerie silvery light,

highlighting the whiteness of her skin. Yellow eyes flashed as she pressed

her lithe body to mine. My palms, damp with sweat, slid over the supple

leather of her dress, caressing the fabric like flesh.

She smiled, running her fingers through my hair and pulling me in

for a kiss. Our lips touched, tentatively, two strangers meeting for the first

time. She tasted like candy and cigarettes. I wanted more, but she pulled

away, touching a long finger to her lips.

“Do you like me or is that a gun in your pocket?” She brushed her

hand along my body.

“Gun.” I tugged her close again.

She laughed, a pure sensual sound of pleasure.

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My body responded even as my mind warned there was more here

than meant the eye. “What game are you playing?” My fingers brushed the

ridged indentation of scarred skin on the back of her neck, tracing the scar,

absorbing tiny electrical shocks sparking between us.

“I ask the questions.” As quickly as the dance started, it stopped, and

Lilith stepped away. She winked, blew me a kiss, and disappeared into the

crowd. I watched until she vanished from my view before turning to face the

hulking figure behind me.

“The boss wants to have a word with you.” The hulk grabbed my arm

and propelled me toward the back of the club. I glanced at our table,

searching for the angel, but he had disappeared. Some fucking help he was.

Damn, I was about to find out Lilith’s ultimate price. I hoped like

hell that I could afford it.

19

Five

The bruiser twisted my arm from its socket, forcing me through the

crowd. The pain was severe, but I ignored it, having more important matters

to attend to; namely, staying alive for the next hour or so.

He pushed me through a set of double doors and into a dark storage

area. The coppery stench of drying blood and vomit in the room promised a

less than desirable outcome.

The lights flicked on with blinding intensity. My pupils pinpricked,

and I blinked until my eyes focused. Thick pools of brownish red blood

stained the concrete floor. I was in serious trouble.

The “boss” sat in the center of the room, picking his teeth with the tip

of a switchblade. A typical tough guy with slick backed hair and an evil grin.

I glanced around the warehouse, noting the one and only exit, twenty feet

behind eight thugs with baseball bats and tire irons.

Eight. Shit. I only had six bullets. Even though math wasn’t my

strong suit, I was pretty sure that left two assholes standing.

The boss stood, taking a step toward me. “What’s your name, boy?”