With a shrug, he shoved the second cuff deep in his front pocket and then reached up to remove the silver chain from around his neck. He threaded the key onto the chain so it rested against the small, ancient silver cross that dangled there. He refastened the chain and dropped it beneath the collar of his shirt.
“Asher’s cuffs also come with a warning,” Sebastian said.
Gideon’s wary gaze met Sebastian’s. Help from Asher, a mercenary demon with a nasty reputation, always came with warnings as well. And a price tag. Usually a very steep price tag one was only willing to pay when one had no other choice.
That phrase, “making a deal with the devil”? Yeah, it had not been coined with Lucifer in mind. That was Asher, all the way.
“Asher said those cuffs work both ways, what binds one, binds the other.”
Gideon leaned forward, his brow drawing tight. “You mean, if I put those on the Halfling, she could force me to do her bidding?”
“He didn’t specify. You know Asher, everything’s a damned riddle.” Sebastian shrugged. “I’d just be careful if I were you.”
Gideon grunted. He was the one in possession of the key. Wasn’t like she would have the power here.
His loyalty to his brethren was the only thing keeping him from falling over the razor’s edge of a treacherous cliff, however precarious his balance was. He owed them that much. So he would take this last mission. For them.
He didn’t have to like it. He just had to finish this.
But once this was done, once the Halfling was secured, he was through. He’d go find this Maggie Michaels. He’d bring her back and leave her with Niklas or Xander, let one of their women take care of her. And then he’d end this pitiful excuse of an existence. He refused to return to Lucifer, whether the ruler of Hell would accept him back or not. And he feared if he stayed this course much longer that was exactly what would happen.
Oblivion—death for the soulless—was waiting for him, and he welcomed it with open arms. He refused to live another day longer than absolutely necessary, let alone another century unable to touch or be touched.
Oh, he’d go down like a warrior. He’d find the biggest, baddest nest he could, shimmer into the middle of it, and take out as many of the bastards as he could before he bit the big one. But he just couldn’t do this anymore.
He, more than anyone, knew you didn’t have to be alone to be lonely.
Pushing a hand through his tangled hair, he heaved a defeated sigh. “Tell me where to find the Halfling.”
Maggie took a sip from the cocktail in front of her as she listened to Gail complain about a particularly trying customer she’d had that day. An odd hum of energy buzzed through her veins. She did her best to ignore it and focus on the conversation. The small group of friends sat around a table in the corner of Angel’s Fall, the popular nightclub they occasionally visited on their rare girls’ nights out.
“Ugh! She sounds like the same woman who came into the bakery last week,” Molly said, setting her cocktail aside. “Tall, painfully thin, short dark hair, pinched expression, fiftyish?”
Gail leaned forward, nodding. “Yes! That’s her!”
“Some people,” Molly grumbled, slurping on her Long Island Iced Tea.
“I know, right?” Gail agreed.
The conversation went on all around her, but Maggie struggled to follow along. Something felt…off. The fine hairs on the back of her neck all but stood at attention. Her nerves vibrated with a strange…awareness.
Sweet Mary, what is that?
Please don’t be another angel. And please, please, please, don’t let it be him again.
She gradually became aware she’d lost track of the conversation, jumping slightly when Cori leaned close. Her shoulder brushed Maggie’s, and Cori hissed under her breath, “Mags, that tall guy over by the bar? The blond dressed all in black? He hasn’t taken his sexy stare off this table for the last fifteen minutes. And, girl, I think he’s been watching you!”
Maggie glanced over, a frown tugging at her brow. Who would stare at her of all people? And why?
As her gaze connected with his, she forgot how to breathe, her glass suspended halfway to her lips. She’d never seen this guy before. She sure as hell would remember if she had. He stood with an air of casual negligence, bracing one elbow against the bar, hip cocked, black biker boots crossed at the ankles. But there was an alertness in those stunning golden eyes. A watchfulness that said he’d already taken in every little detail around him, compartmentalized it, and dismissed anyone he deemed not as dangerous as himself.
In other words, everyone else in the bar.