For now.
“I’ll come back,” he promised. “I’ll figure out what happened, and I’ll be back for you.”
Then, because there wasn’t anything left to say, he headed for the door.
He’d taken only a few steps when . . .
“Thank you.”
Her words stopped him cold. His hand was reaching for the doorknob. “For what?”
“Teaching me about pleasure.”
She was gonna break him.
“After all the pain . . .” She stopped, and he heard the faint inhalation of her breath. “I didn’t know that much pleasure was possible.”
Helpless, Tanner glanced over his shoulder. “Baby, we’re just gettin’ started.”
Her smile lit up her face. “Yes, we are.”
And he realized that there had been something left to say, after all.
The police station was swarming with activity when Tanner marched inside. But all that activity sure stopped dead when folks got a look at him.
Every eye in the place turned to him. Every conversation—ended.
Great. He’d managed to piss off too many people in the PD over the years—folks who were now only too eager to watch him burn. Just a few months back, he’d managed to anger even more cops when he’d donned a uniform and jumped into an investigation—one that had been headed by other officers. But that case had involved another angel and Brandt’s ex-lover. He’d had to get involved, or else those other cops would have wound up dead.
He stepped on toes. He made enemies. But the humans just didn’t get it—he did it all to keep them safe.
Now they were lining up to burn his ass. Too bad for them. He wasn’t in the mood for a bonfire.
“What the hell are you looking at?” Tanner snapped. He’d brought in his weapon and still had it holstered on his hip.
Two uniformed cops headed for him with eyes narrowed and we’ll-kick-the-shit-out-of-you expressions on their faces.
“Tanner Chance.” The captain’s bellowing voice stopped them all. Tanner glanced to the left and saw that Captain Jillian Pope had left her office. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring holes in every officer in the room.
After a moment, that glare of hers turned to him. “In my office,” she ordered.
Tanner began to cross toward her.
“Your ass is gonna fry,” one of the uniforms muttered as he passed. A guy named Lawson Phillips. They’d clashed before. “You think you can turn on one of your own?”
“I haven’t turned on anyone.” Tanner kept his voice flat. “It wasn’t me.” The fact that he was echoing words Marna had once said to him—well, yeah, that was damn fitting.
“Unlike people, video cameras don’t lie.”
That stopped him. He frowned at Lawson. “What are you talking about?” What video camera?
Lawson’s smile was evil. “The next time you play a game of hit the cop, make sure his car video isn’t turned on, dumbass.”
Oh, someone was begging for a beating. He could oblige.
“Chance.”
His head whipped back toward the captain. Her cheeks were flushed. “Inside. Now,” she demanded.
This was gonna be ugly. If his face was on that video, how the hell was he supposed to talk his way out of this mess?
“We’ll talk later,” he promised Lawson. The guy backed up a step.
With one last glare at the uniform, Tanner headed into her office. She slammed the door closed behind him. Held up her hand. “I want your weapon, Detective.”
With those words, Tanner knew he was screwed.
When she heard the pounding on the apartment door, Marna tensed. Was that Tanner? Back already?
But why would he be knocking at his own place? The guy had a key.
Not Tanner.
She crept toward the door.
The pounding shook the wooden frame. “I know you’re in there!” A man’s voice shouted through that wood. “Now open the door!”
Definitely not Tanner. Her hands flattened on the door. She glanced through the small peephole. Saw a tall, blond man. Her heart began to race. Like she’d forget him anytime soon. It was pretty hard to forget the face of the cop who’d shot you.
Jonathan something. She couldn’t recall his last name, but she sure recognized Tanner’s partner.
As she stared at him in growing horror, he held up his gun and pointed it at the door. “Open up,” he said, “or I’ll just start shooting my way inside.”
She believed him.
Captain Pope marched back and forth in front of Tanner, anger tightening her small body. She’d been promoted just six months back, but she’d already gained a reputation for being one of the hardest ass-kickers in the New Orleans PD.
“You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinkin’?” she demanded, the South rolling hard in her words.
“I didn’t do it.” His conscience was clear on this one. “I didn’t hurt that kid cop.”
She scoffed. “You’re on the video. Big and bold as life.”
His jaw clenched. “How is he?” Because he was worried about the kid. The guy had just been trying to do his job. And for that, some SOB had tried to kill him.
No, not that. Tanner knew the killer had gone after the other cop deliberately. To pin the crime on me.
“Officer Paul Hodges is in intensive care,” the captain told him, and her voice was grim. As grim as her eyes. “Too many internal injuries to count. He’s spitting blood. Barely breathing.”
Hell.
“I don’t even know how he’s alive.” She turned away. Headed toward her small window and stared down at the street. “But he is alive. And he was able to ID you.”
“It’s a setup. I didn’t—”
“Do I look like a moron to you?” She tossed a glare over her shoulder. “Even on video, I can tell one of my own kind.” And as he watched, the captain’s green eyes faded to black.
Demon black.
Tanner didn’t move. But he did sure wish that his gun wasn’t locked in her desk drawer.
Not that he needed the gun to kill but . . .
“Whoever that ass**le was, he didn’t count on another demon watching that video.” She ran a tired hand over the back of her neck and paced back toward him. “Hell, that’s even if he knew that he was being recorded at all. My guess is he just used the glamour to fool that poor SOB he sent to the ICU.”
Even more careful now, because Tanner wasn’t sure just how much he could trust his captain—if at all—he said in a disbelieving tone, “Demons?”