Demon Fire (The Angel Fire Book 3) by Marie Johnston (best authors to read .txt) 📗

drink. So did she. She finished her water and grabbed another, ignoring Andy’s perplexed glance.

A few more laps around the club floor settled her. She’d learned a few things during the last few weeks, and she was getting restless.

She drank half her second bottle of water. “Can I use the bathroom down here?”

“No. We’re heading back up.”

Crestfallen for more than one reason, she slumped her shoulders. “Can’t I walk a few more laps? It’s just that the baby’s bouncing on my bladder.”

His jaw tightened but he finally nodded. “Two more laps and I’ll take you back to your room. I have more work to do.”

“Can I come down again tomorrow and get another walk in?”

Andy scowled. “You ready to give me a sample of blood?”

She had to give in soon, even when her inclination was to take the needle and stab him in the eye with it. “When’s the midwife coming?”

“One of my bodyguards can do it.”

“I don’t think I’m immune to hepatitis anymore.”

Andy nearly smirked at her joke. “When the midwife comes, then—but I’ll take as many vials as I want.”

“As many as she clears you to take,” Sierra amended.

His scowl was back, but he was oddly protective about the baby. “Use the bathroom.”

She stopped at the first one, pushed the door open, and wrinkled her nose. It wasn’t a disaster but it smelled like ten teenage girls had gone wild with stolen perfume. She went into the second bathroom, the one she’d intended to use in the first place, and shut the door.

First, she stood in place and scanned the area for hidden cameras. It appeared safe. She checked the towel dispenser disguised as modern artwork. The exposed brick that was fake around the sink and toilet area. Nothing.

She squatted and felt under the sink counter. Nothing. Then she crawled on top of the sink and felt along the line of trendy lights housed in cages like the ones on the dance floor. Dust rained down on her, but she felt around until her hands touched a cool object stuffed in the corner. Her heart raced as she took it down and got off the counter.

She used the toilet like she’d claimed she needed to. After she finished, she washed her hands and used the towels to wipe up the dust and footprints from the counter.

Stuffing the phone in her underwear, she prayed it’d stay in place for two laps around the club. The hardest part was opening the door and keeping the grin off her face. Phase two of the plan was complete.

She whipped open the door and gasped. A paunchy man glared at her. It took her a moment to step back and see the sneering face of a female demon.

“Fallen,” the host spat. “What took you so long in there?”

“Andy,” Sierra hollered out the door. She hadn’t prepared for this. Her alarm was real. “Can you call off your dogs?”

The host’s lips curled and he lunged. Sierra braced herself and kicked him in the gut, throwing all of her weight behind the move. The demon wasn’t expecting it and doubled over, wheezing. Fury blazed from her black eyes, visible behind the host’s hazel irises. She recovered too quickly for Sierra’s comfort.

As the demon pulled an arm back to punch her, Andy’s voice rang out. “Zanda, I will drench you in angel fire if you touch her.”

Sierra would’ve ducked in time and kicked the feet out from under the human, but she’d rather keep the demon underestimating her.

The female demon’s expression rippled with disgust. She hated following Andy’s orders.

“Gerzon,” Andy snapped.

“Zanda, back off,” another man’s voice said. Shit. Two demons were here.

Zanda shuffled aside from the door, the host’s lips drawn back like the demon would bite her any second. Sierra stood her ground. She didn’t trust the female behind her. “You first.”

“Zanda.” The warning in the new male’s voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The second demon had power. It rumbled through the host’s words. “Touch her. And die.”

That . . . was unexpected. Was her blood that precious?

She strode out. The second man leaned against the bar, but when she got closer, he pushed off. Under the host’s face, he was an ugly fucker. His eyes were a murky blue and his horns were crooked. His purple-tinged, mottled skin looked like he’d taken the face off a two-week-old corpse. Zanda had a brutal beauty that wasn’t often seen in the underworld. But this guy was typical gross demon. She had a sense the host was taller than the demon and wondered if the demon had chosen that trait on purpose.

Both of the hosts were familiar. They’d been in the club, but they hadn’t been possessed. She distinctly remembered them because they loved the young girls. Alcohol flowed freely, they flashed their bloody barbed tattoos, and the girls fell for it. Add more alcohol and the men took advantage. It was disgusting.

Sierra had watched it all and seethed. Never had she regretted falling more than when she watched the club thriving. She could’ve helped put a stop to it. Her own personal shame was the reason she’d excelled at being “the tech guy.” It was the area she could outshine the rest by being the best.

Now all she could do was rely on a smuggled phone to send a few messages.

“That’s her,” Andy said. She didn’t trust the warmth in his voice. The demon watched her, the host’s lips tilted up, a wondrous look in his eyes. An oily shiver traced down her back.

She changed course for the elevators. “I’m going to go ahead and skip the extra laps.”

“In time, Sierra,” the male demon said.

She went to the elevator and punched the button. When she got in and the doors closed, she memorized everything possible. It was all going in the message.

The spot where her wings used to be ached.

The way that demon had looked at her. He had plans and she was in the middle of them. Something big was going