Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Noah crossed his arms and tried not to feel sympathy for the obviously wounded immortal. Burn scars covered his neck and trailed down one arm, and considering immortals very rarely scarred, the hell dimensions must’ve been beyond comprehension. And who had even known there were hell dimensions available to travel through? Mostly nobody until very recently. “A mission for the Realm?”
Benny rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. But I need somebody I can trust, and he needs somebody who can plant him on his ass if he goes berserk. You’re more than capable.”
It was true that vampire-demon hybrids were stronger than either species alone, and Noah was grateful for the extra strength in today’s world. He looked more vampire than demon, but at his core, he was mostly demon. “I don’t have time for this, Ben,” he muttered.
Benny grinned, the entire look screaming ‘smart ass.’ “I heard you ran into some trouble hunting werewolves in Russia. This will be decent downtime for you.”
Noah lifted an eyebrow instead of rubbing his just-healed chest that a werewolf had clawed through. Weres were mindless creatures intent on killing, and somehow they kept cropping up in the oddest places. “I’m busy.”
“I figured.” Benny sobered. “I’m sorry about Clyde. He was a good soldier.”
Even the name ripped through Noah with sharp blades. “He was. So you understand why I’m busy right now.” Clyde had been the closest thing Noah had to a brother. Hell. They were brothers. And the bastard who’d killed him would go down and hard. As soon as Noah found him, which was why he’d moved to this small shithole of a town in Indiana. His prey had businesses outside in the overgrown and huge industrial area.
Benny sighed. “You do this for me, and I’ll get you a line on his killer.”
“I know who killed him,” Noah gritted out. “Just have to find the asshole.” A good for nothing feline shifter who was supposedly crazy as hell. It had all, like usual, been over a female. “Petersen attacked Clyde from behind. He had to have.”
“Probably. I’ll find out where Petersen is hiding. I have good contacts now, you know.” Benny’s eyes swirled with emotion. “I miss him, too.”
Clyde had only been dead for a month, and Noah had been hunting at the time. Had just found out, and his gut hurt constantly. His head ached. His hands fisted with the need to avenge. “I don’t want or need your help.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Sometimes it’s necessary to regroup. I heard the Russians paid you handsomely for that last job. You deserve a break from work.” He edged toward the door.
“Being an independent contractor is a good gig,” Noah snapped.
Benny reached for the doorknob. “Contractor, mercenary, assassin.... it’s all respectable. But now, vacation time.”
He could really use intel on where Petersen was hiding, damn it. Noah turned to look at Ivar, who slumped in a way that showed he just didn’t give a damn right now. “I don’t understand, Ben. I don’t know how to help him.”
“Well, now.” Benny clapped him on the shoulder, and the sound echoed loudly through the airy space. “You owe me, and you know it.”
It was true. Noah blew out air. His friend had saved his life in the last war, without question. “This is how you want to call in your chip?”
“Yep,” Benny said cheerfully. He reached in his back pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper. “The queen looked into this, and I signed both of you up with the appropriate background information. The guy running it is supposed to be an expert in PTSD and trauma, even though he’s a human, and it’s just for a couple of weeks until I get back. Good luck.” He shoved the paper into Noah’s hands, opened the door, and shot outside in a surprisingly graceful move. The door shut quietly.
Noah pivoted and stared at the closed door. “What the hell?”
Ivar chuckled, the sound pained. His hand shook as he planted it on his sunken chest. “He’s one of a kind, right?”
Right. Noah slowly unfolded the paper to read the intake forms. Oh, come on. No way.
* * * *
Abby Miller’s legs shook as she walked into the basement room of the old elementary school. Several scarred wooden chairs were arranged in a circle on the cement floor, while a street level window up high was covered in a grate surrounded by leaves and rainwater. One blackboard, green really, was up front with the name of the group spelled out. Anger management support.
Anger. Oh, they had no clue.
A woman strode toward her from a rickety table holding a coffee carafe and Styrofoam cups. “Hi. I’m Dr. Mariana Lopez.” She held out a hand to shake.
“Abby Miller.” Abby shook the shrink’s hand, frowning. “I thought Dr. Johnson was in charge of this group.”