He motioned to one of the guards, and it was obviously an order to frisk her.
Zacharel moved in the blink of an eye, a sword of fire in his hand, and poised at the demon’s throat. “No one touches her.”
The guards made no move to stop him. Either they were too afraid of him, or they had their own orders to obey.
Burden shifted in his seat, but any discomfort he felt was quickly masked with an air of superiority. “If you strike at me, my people know to kill Jamila.”
“I would be no kind of leader if I protected one of my charges above another. So I repeat, no one touches the girl. Ever.”
That’s my man.
“Very well. No one will touch her while you’re here,” Burden allowed, evidently not the least bit upset that his authority had been questioned.
“Agreed.”
Wait. What?
Zacharel’s sword vanished.
The demon’s grin returned. “Because I’m so generous, I’ll allow your woman to keep her weapons.”
“That’s sweet of you,” Annabelle said, acting as if she did, in fact, have a few surprises tucked away. Now it’s time for you to zip it, Miller, and let Zachie do his thing. Remember?
Burden ignored her, but said to Zacharel with a bit more edge to his tone, “She’ll find I’m not as easy to hurt as the beautiful Driana.” He nodded briefly toward the woman still nursing her wounds on the couch.
“This conversation grows tiresome.” Zacharel flexed his fingers at his side, before curling his hands into fists. “Let’s move on.”
Burden lifted a pen from his desk and twirled the thing one way, then the other. “Impatient as ever, I see. To be honest—” he chuckled at his own words “—I’m a little surprised you came. You had to know I wouldn’t keep my end of the bargain to return Jamila to you.”
Zacharel eyed him impassively. “That goes without saying.”
Wait. He’d known they were walking into a trap? Then what the heck were they doing here?
“So why are you here, angel?” Burden asked.
“I will tell you. After I see proof that Jamila still lives.”
Burden flinched at the layer of truth in Zacharel’s voice. “Some things never change, I suppose. It’s comforting to know you’re as suspicious as you are impatient.”
“And you, in turn, are as untrustworthy as you are repulsive.”
The demon inclined his head in acknowledgment, as if he’d just received a compliment. “Thank you. But why don’t I liven things up and do the unexpected? I’ll give you your proof,” he said, “after I have your word that no other warrior angels are here or even nearby.”
He had guards all over the club, and probably cameras, too. He should already know the answer.
“Why should he believe you this time when you’ve already admitted to lying?” Annabelle demanded.
Burden laughed. “Smart girl. But he believes me because he can taste the truth of my words.”
Zacharel ran his tongue over his teeth. “I can. And I agree to your terms. My angels are not here.”
“Someone else’s angels?”
“No. I am the only angel you will be dealing with.”
Burden pursed his lips, pondered the situation then nodded. “This is somewhat disappointing. I expected the mighty Zacharel to put up some kind of fight, at the very least. Now I have to wonder why you are so agreeable about this. You knew you could not save Jamila. You knew you were bringing the human into the danger zone.”
“And you know that according to the bargain just struck I’m not required to give you that information.”
“True, but I had to try. I’m sure you understand.” The demon leaned forward and propped his elbows on the desk. “Here is what’s about to happen. I will show you your precious angel, as I agreed. Then, you will either walk out of my club without bloodshed or you will stay and watch as my men and I enjoy the human.”