Fight. Lie. Kill.
Die.
Tanner nodded.
Cody released him and grabbed Marna. He hugged her just as tightly. “Welcome to the f**ked-up family,” he whispered against her ear, though Tanner’s shifter hearing easily picked up his words. “I promise, from now on, things will be different. Better.”
Could they be any worse?
Then Cody released her. “We’re not just our father’s sons.”
No. Not even close. Tanner couldn’t even feel the echo of that old bastard anymore. He really was gone now. Rotting in the ground. Burning in hell. Either way, he was gone.
“We’re more,” Tanner said, nodding, but his gaze was on Marna. He’d prove to her that he could be more than a killer.
But first . . . first he was getting her out of that place. Away from the dead body on the floor. Away from the blood and the memories and the fear.
Someone must have heard all the gunshots and howling. The cops would be coming. And since he wasn’t exactly on good terms with his brothers and sisters in blue . . .
Time to leave.
Tanner lifted his hand to Marna. Without any hesitation, she wound her fingers through his. Marna’s gaze didn’t drop to Jonathan’s dead body as they left the trashed room. Tanner’s did. In death, Jonathan didn’t look so violent or twisted. But then, most of the time, he hadn’t looked that way in life, either. Not until the end.
The end . . .
It could have been me dead on the floor.
“But it f**king wasn’t,” Tanner growled, and his hold tightened on Marna. They walked out together and left death exactly where he belonged—behind them.
Tanner wasn’t sure what he’d find waiting back at his place. Half a dozen cop cars, maybe a SWAT team? All gunning for him. Because he was the hunted now, right? The cop who’d gone bad and taken out his captain.
But . . . the street was empty.
He parked the patrol car and turned to stare at Marna. “We’re gonna need to leave town.” Because the cops would come for him, sooner or later.
She just smiled and looked so beautiful she made his heart hurt. “I’d like to see the rest of the world. When you’re out ferrying souls, there’s not much time for sightseeing.”
No. He, ah, bet there wasn’t.
The door squeaked as she opened it and hurried toward the porch. Tanner pushed open his door, and when the wind blew toward him, he immediately caught the scent of the intruder. They weren’t alone after all.
Not so empty.
“Marna!” She was on the steps now.
His warning had come too late. Sammael strolled out. He quirked a brow and put his hands on his hips. “Took you long enough to come home, shifter.”
Tanner bounded up the steps. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”
“Waiting.” Said so casually. “You didn’t really expect me to sit outside, did you?”
What? Did the Fallen think he was some kind of damn celebrity? “Why. Are. You. Here?”
Sam lifted his brows. “So you can say thank you?”
Tanner lunged for the guy. Marna grabbed his arms and held him back. “Easy.” Her breath whispered against him as she turned to face Sammael. “We found the killer on our own. So if that’s what you were coming to tell us—”
“And where is Jonathan Pardue now?”
Tanner’s whole body tightened. How long had the Fallen known Jonathan was the guy gunning for them? That hard stare of Sam’s gave nothing away. Probably the whole time. “He’s dead.”
“Yes, well, I always say, a death job is always done best when it’s done by your own hands.” He offered a faint smile. A smug one. “Right, shifter? Don’t you feel better knowing that you sent the guy to hell?”
Like he needed to be taught some kind of life lesson by Sam. “Marna could have been the one to die.”
“I was on Bastion’s list,” she said, anger humming in her voice.
But Sam just shrugged. “He’s always been half in love with you. He never would have taken your soul.”
Tanner rushed away from Marna. He grabbed Sam around the neck and shoved him against the wall of the house. “Listen, you cold bastard—”
Sam shook his head. “This isn’t the way to thank me.”
“Thank you?” Marna repeated, coming closer. “You haven’t done anything!”
Sam shoved back against Tanner. Because he was trying—trying—to hold on to his control, Tanner eased back a few feet. He caught Marna’s hand. Rubbed his fingers over her knuckles and took a steadying breath.
Don’t kick angel ass. Not yet.
“I’ve done plenty.” Now Sam sounded, what? Insulted? Definitely. He glared at Marna and said, “I’m the one who made sure your pet wasn’t locked in a cage. Shifters do hate those cages, don’t they?” His knowing gaze drifted back to Tanner. “Something about the beasts they carry . . .”
Tanner growled at him.
Sam smiled. “Let’s just say that I made all the trouble with the law vanish for you. You’re now cleared of the attack on that boy wonder cop. Cleared of all the shit with the captain. Hell, when you go back to work, they might even give you a medal.” He lifted his hands with an honest-to-God voila-type gesture. “What can I say? I am that good.”
“You’re full of shit,” Tanner said. “I’m not—”
“The chief of police is a demon, and a guy who owes me more than just his soul.” Sam dropped his hands. “All I had to do was explain a few facts to him. A little while ago, he took care of making all the evidence fit with the new version of the story.”
The chief of—well, he’d suspected that after meeting the guy a few times. Tanner rubbed his chin. “And the new version is . . . ?”
“Your captain was killed in the line of duty. She was tracking the real killer, one who’d been killing all over the city. You tried to save her, the same way you tried to save that kid cop—Hodges—but sometimes, well, death can’t be stopped.”
Sometimes, he could be.
“You took out the killer today, one rogue cop who’d crossed the line by attacking others on the force and manipulating evidence.” Sammael made a little tsk, tsk sound. “Sometimes, even the boys in blue can go bat-shit crazy like Jonathan.”
“And the video?” The one showing someone with his face attacking the injured cop?
“What video?” Sam asked, voice mild, then firmer. “There is no video.”