“I’m not here to save the world,” he told her, and then he reached for her again. Wait—the jerk was moving her out of his way, not trying to embrace her. Then he yanked open the door and told her, “Sweetheart, I’m just here to watch it burn.”
And Sam left her there, with her mouth open. The jerk actually left her.
Shit. Time for plan B—and plan B was gonna hurt.
She watched Sam disappear into the crowd. His goons closed back around him, and he whispered to them. Her eyes slit. Oh, she’d make him pay. Was he really so heartless that he wouldn’t help a freaking damsel in distress? Hadn’t she looked distressed enough to him? Her eyes were actually watering now—she was sure he’d seen that bit. And what about that breathy moan she’d given when he kissed her? That moan had only been half-faked!
Fine. Seline took a deep breath. One, then another, and she let the tears build up. She might have been a low-level demon, but she was also a semi-talented actress. In order to fit in with the humans, she’d had to be.
Her shoulders shook as she pushed her way through the crowd. Seline made sure to rush past Sam and his demons as she sobbed, the better to lay the groundwork for her next plan.
Her hand slammed against the club’s back door, and she burst outside. The hot air hit her like a fist as she hurried forward. She lifted her hand and signaled for the man she knew would be waiting.
She’d tried to do this the easy way, but Sam hadn’t cooperated. Pity. A real crying shame.
“You’re gonna have to use the knife,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. Sam might not even come out after her. He sure didn’t seem to be racing to her rescue. But maybe when she started screaming, he’d come play white knight.
The man in the black ski mask nodded once.
Seline exhaled. So be it.
She wasn’t just going to walk away from Sam. She had a job to do, and she always got the job done. Even if she had to bleed to earn her pay.
And she would be bleeding because that knife was about to slice her . . .
The first cut of the blade was always the worst.
Sam stared at the closed exit door. “Seline has a problem,” he said to the demons—Marcus and Cole—beside him. Why do I care? I shouldn’t give a damn. “Check it out. If it’s legit, then make sure her problem is eliminated.”
Cole nodded. “Someone’s bothering her?” Cole’s voice held a tight edge. The demon never liked it when someone bothered the women at Sunrise. Definitely a guy with a soft spot for the ladies, even the dangerous ones.
“Seems she’s got a past that won’t stay dead.” Perhaps he would have talked more with Seline, offered her protection in exchange for a few moments in the dark, but he had another agenda then.
His own past wasn’t staying dead. His brother was back, and if Sam had his way, he’d be putting the bastard into the ground very, very soon.
A war is coming. Sam could feel the storm clouds gathering.
As delectable as Seline was, he didn’t have time for distractions. Azrael had finally gotten his lily-white ass kicked out of heaven, and it was time for a showdown.
Or Armageddon. Whatever came first. Sam didn’t have a preference.
Too many angels are falling. The demons are getting restless. A power play is coming.
And, of course, he was getting caught right in the middle of hell.
“Find out who’s bothering her,” he ordered because he hadn’t asked specifics from her. If he’d found out anymore—hell, he would have killed the bastards himself, and that just couldn’t happen. He had an angel’s ass to kick first. Pleasure kills would have to wait for later. “Make sure she doesn’t have to worry again.”
Then his debt would be paid because he did owe Seline. No one had ever tried to save him before. Mostly because he didn’t need saving. But she’d tried, in her way.
So despite his words, he’d help her and maybe one day when the blood washed away, he’d look her up and let sexy Seline thank him properly.
Cole nodded and eased back into the crowd. The demon was probably off to talk to some of the other waitresses so he could get a fix on Seline and her trouble.
Sam waved off Marcus and headed for the exit. He’d already given Marcus orders earlier. If the guy caught so much as a whisper about Azrael, Sam would know.
He shoved open the club’s back door and inhaled the lingering scent of jasmine in the air. Seline’s scent. His c**k tightened as he remembered the soft silk of her lips beneath his. She hadn’t tasted like innocence. No, Seline, the woman who’d stripped and danced on his stage at Temptation, revealing and then instantly concealing her body, was no innocent.