Angel in Waiting Page 3

  Dimitri regarded the slight, fair woman steadily. He opened his mouth to inform her he didn’t take orders from a woman, any woman, but the look in her eyes stopped him. She wasn’t trying to throw her weight around; she was simply reacting to her fear. Katrina McAllister was a woman of worth who’d proven herself among the Defensori on more than one occasion. Besides, she was Mac’s wife and a combination of witch, Earthbound, and Archangel in her own right. Realistically, she could probably fry his ass if she ever managed to reliably harness her powers. He nodded shortly, stepped out into the hallway, and disappeared.

  ****

  Kat turned into her husband’s embrace and wrapped her arms around his waist. She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, propping her chin on his chest.

  “Tell me I’m overreacting, Kassian.” Her large, silver eyes pleaded with him for reassurance. “Tell me Elle is going to be okay.”

  More than anything, Kassian wanted to give his wife the reassurance she craved, but frankly, he didn’t know what to think. He’d written Elle off as a necessary nuisance requiring inclusion in his life because of his wife’s affection for her. Now not only Kat, but Dimitri too, insisted there was more to the woman than met the eye. He wasn’t fool enough to disregard the instincts of two people he trusted with his life.

  He dropped a kiss on the top of his wife’s silky head and pulled her close enjoying the weight of her body against his. He couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, but he could tell her one thing he easily accepted as truth.

  “Whatever it is, Dimitri will figure it out.”

  Chapter Three

  Elle stuffed the cash filled envelope into her purse hoping it would be enough to hold her over for at least a few weeks. Credit cards and ATM transactions would be too easy to trace if anyone felt so inclined. Eventually, she would transfer all of her funds into an account under another name, but it would have to wait. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the dusty, leather journal and cautiously curled her fingers around the edges, pulling it from the safe. Every time she touched it, she half expected something to happen, a clap of thunder, a bolt of lightning, sudden onset seizures. Something. But in the end, it was simply paper bound in leather. Only the memories contained in the tight, schoolgirl scrawl within its pages were harmful. And only to her. She closed the safe with a decisive click and spun the dial. Setting the book on the floor at her feet, she carefully replaced the panel in the back of her closet, concealing the safe’s location, and rearranged all of her flashy designer clothes on the rack in front of it. She wouldn’t have any further need for them. In fact, the more nondescript her appearance from now on, the better. She slid the closet door home without sparing a glance at the collection of short, red wigs in various styles stored on the top shelf. She’d already stashed one in her bag in case she needed it in a pinch, but the rest would remain behind. They, too, belonged to a life she could no longer claim.

  She retrieved the journal from the floor, checked to confirm the letter remained tucked inside, and deposited it on the bed next to her suitcases. Her instincts told her to keep it close, but she realized it would attract far less attention packed among her clothes in one of the bags she planned to check as soon as she figured out where she was going. Then again, if her luggage got lost, it could be catastrophic. Elle raked her fingers through her loose hair distractedly. Damn, why couldn’t one single decision be easy?

  Finally, she upended the bag on the bed, scattering the neatly packed contents across the pink, satin comforter in an untidy heap and settled the journal at the bottom of the bag. Nothing about it should provoke comment or invite a strip search, right? She was simply being paranoid. She repacked her hair dryer, a change of undies, her laptop, e-reader, and assorted chargers, and piled them on top of the book. A single black tee remained on the bed, contrasting sharply with the pastel background of the coverlet. She hesitated, feeling a bit silly now to have included it. Dimitri had spilled coffee on it last week, and Elle had offered to launder it. Somehow it had ended up in her drawer, and she’d conveniently forgotten to give it back. She told herself not to pack it, but the thought of waking from the nightmares in a strange place without Dimitri to ground her was daunting. Somehow having the shirt seemed like taking a piece of him with her. She wondered whether he would be disappointed to find her gone. More than likely, he would simply be relieved to have his life back. And Kat? She couldn’t bring herself to think about Kat, at all. Their friendship may have started out under false pretenses, but it had become the most important relationship in Elle’s life. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she squared her shoulders. She was a strong, independent woman. She’d survived her father’s schemes and escaped. She’d eluded her enemies and hidden in plain sight while building a lucrative and successful career. Her luck had held for longer than she ever dreamed possible. She’d survived possession by a demon and an Earthbound dagger to her chest. She didn’t need a father. She didn’t need a guardian angel, a best friend, or anyone. If she repeated the mantra to herself often enough, she might actually come to believe it. Eventually. In the meantime, she would simply do what she had to do and disappear. Hopefully. Her throat ached as she realized it was doubtful anyone would mourn her loss for long. After a heartbeat of indecision, she rolled the T-shirt in a ball and stuffed it down into the side of her bag. If her luggage got lost, she’d need something to sleep in, right?

  She dragged her bags out of the bedroom, depositing them outside in the hallway before calling the porter to bring everything down to the lobby. Looking around at the home she’d created, she swallowed hard over the lump that insisted on rising to clog her throat. Her eyes burned as they rested on one item after another, each sparking a memory, until everything finally blurred together. She’d been happy here. She’d built a life. She hadn’t asked to be a part of her father’s world. She’d simply been unfortunate enough to be born into it. Why couldn’t he leave her alone?

  She’d been raised believing her father was a Librarian, part of a secret society who’d been keeping tabs on Earthbound for centuries. Their mission was simply to observe and record, but based on what she’d discovered, it was clear at some point their mission had changed. Elle cut her teeth on stories of the Earthbound and learned to shield her thoughts from a very young age. As a child, she’d believed it was all a game, the stuff of fairy tales and make believe. Until she learned the truth, a truth she was never meant to discover. When she did, she swallowed her devastation, kept her mouth shut, and bided her time until the opportunity to escape presented itself. She’d smuggled out the journal proactively, hoping never to use it. But now her father had found her again, thanks to the demon, Azakriel. Therefore, Elle Gates had to disappear. It might be her only chance and the letter to her friend would explain everything.

  Except once Kat learned the truth, they wouldn’t be friends anymore, would they? Still, she’d thought about it long and hard and deep down she knew she owed Kat the truth. And though Elle wouldn’t have to witness her reaction, she could easily imagine it, and it broke her heart.

  Hopefully, the contents of the journal would soften the condemnation. And if the worst happened, and her father discovered her connection to the others, knowing the truth would neutralize any plans her father might have for using Elle’s well-being as a bargaining chip in an attempt to realize his greatest ambition. The capture of a real Earthbound to experiment on.

  Once she learned how Elle had used her, Kat wouldn’t give a flying fig what happened to Elle. And Dimitri…well she wasn’t going to think about him either. The biggest favor she could do any of them was to simply walk away.

  Her heart heavy, Elle took a final look around and then hitched her purse a little higher on her shoulder. She twisted her long hair into a knot on top of her head and jammed a plaid newsboy cap over it, pulling the brim down low over her forehead. At last, she stepped into the hall, pulling the door closed firmly behind her. The click of the latch echoed in her head with painful finality. No matt
er what happened, she doubted she would ever return to this place she loved. She hoped she’d been able to buy herself some time with the news conference, well aware that even now, someone could be keeping tabs on her. Her father’s message said how glad he was to have found her, how he missed her desperately, and then went on to say she should stay away. A bitter smile twisted her lips. As if she would ever consider returning. Apparently, he was banking on reverse psychology.

  As requested, the limo waited at the curb and her luggage had already been loaded. She nodded her thanks to the doorman who stood outside waiting to hand her in and pressed a twenty into his palm before jamming a large pair of mirrored sunglasses on her nose and climbing inside.

  She settled back into the comfort of the heavily padded leather upholstery and pressed the intercom to give the address to the driver. If he thought it odd she chartered a limousine and took several heavy pieces of luggage to travel a few miles from her Midtown condo to a small boutique hotel in the Financial District, he kept his opinion to himself, for which Elle was grateful. Ignoring the bustling pedestrians and blaring horns of the bumper to bumper traffic on the streets outside, she pulled her bag into her lap and zipped it open. Insulated from prying eyes by the panel separating her from the driver and the darkly tinted windows, she tugged off the cap and shoved it into her bag, shaking her hair free. Quickly braiding the heavy mass and winding it on top of her head, she pulled out a flesh tone skullcap and blonde pageboy wig. Then she dug into her make-up bag. When she climbed out of the car a few miles later in a narrow alley behind the Federal Reserve, she bore no resemblance to the woman who’d stepped into the car a short time earlier.

  The driver came around to open her door. Despite her changed appearance, he barely spared her a glance, and after handing her out, he scurried around to the back to retrieve her bags. She strode into the hotel lobby leaving him to struggle behind with the luggage. Acting oddly nervous, he didn’t even wait for a tip before touching the brim of his cap and almost running back to the car as though he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  Elle shrugged at his strange behavior and looked around. It took about five seconds. The lobby was sleek and modern with mirrored walls intended to imply a sense of space, but nothing could disguise the fact that it was barely larger than her closet back at the condo. Between the desk, a potted palm, and the other guests, there was hardly enough room in the cramped space for Elle and her assortment of luggage. She waited patiently while a couple of businessmen in off the rack suits and poorly knotted ties completed their check-in and moved away toward the single elevator at the end of an even narrower hallway, and then she stepped up to the desk.

  “I’d like a room for tonight, please,” Elle pulled out her wallet.

  The young desk clerk, who barely looked old enough to drive, glanced behind her at the pile of luggage and raised a brow. “One night?”

  “Yes, please. King bed with a coffee service and fridge if you’ve got it.”

  “Sure thing,” he tapped the fictitious name and address she provided into the terminal, swiped a keycard, and handed it to her without looking up.

  “Credit card, please.”

  “I’ll be paying cash.” He glanced up with raised brows, opened his mouth, then closed it again and shrugged.

  “That’ll be three twenty-nine.” He turned to grab the receipt coming off of the printer and handed it to her.

  “For one night?” Elle squeaked in surprise. She hadn’t actually booked her own hotel room in…well just about forever. Good thing she planned to head out of the city tomorrow. Her available funds would be depleted in no time at these prices. The clerk waited while she counted out the money and then casually informed her she’d have to manage her own bags.

  “Sure, no problem,” she gritted out between her teeth, shoving the keycard in the back pocket of her jeans and piling her bags one on top of the other. She dragged them the short distance to the elevator and shoved them inside. Poking the button for the eighteenth floor, she leaned back against the carpeted wall with a sigh of relief. She’d made it! Tomorrow she would head for the mountains. Just one more step in saying goodbye to her life, the life she’d created, the woman she’d become. She tried not to think too far beyond that because when she contemplated the prospect of starting over somewhere new, anonymous and alone, it simultaneously broke her heart and scared the living hell out of her.

  Fortunately, when the doors slid open on the eighteenth floor, her room wasn’t far from the elevator. Elle dragged her bags across the threshold and collapsed on the bed, panting. Two wooden chairs and a small table sat in front of a window that provided a scenic view of a brick wall. Besides a small metal clothes rack and a shelf serving as a nightstand by the bed, a shallow chest of drawers with a coffee maker on top, a mini-fridge, and a wall mounted flat screen comprised the remaining furniture. The décor was a neutral, unassuming beige accented with shades of neutral, unassuming beige. Simple, nondescript, and anonymous. Precisely what she wanted. There was barely enough room to walk, the room’s diminutive size giving new meaning to the concept of cozy, but at least it was clean.

  Elle hauled herself to her feet, moved to the window to close the drapes, and then clicked on the bedside lamp. A quick peek in the bathroom indicated it was much smaller than hers at home. Her throat tightened again when she remembered she no longer had a home. She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. She’d find a new home. It was simply a matter of time. She quickly unpacked what she would need for the night, put a couple of bottles of water in the mini-fridge, and carried her toiletries into the bathroom. Now that she’d managed to execute stage one of her semi-formed plan, the strain of the last twenty-four hours announced itself in her stiff and aching muscles. In fact, her limbs felt like she’d been worked over by a two by four and a nagging burn zinged between her shoulder blades, refusing to ease no matter how she stretched and twisted. What the hell, she didn’t have anywhere she had to be tonight, right? She cranked on the faucet in the tub until the water was as hot as she thought she could reasonably stand. Maybe a nice long soak was just what she needed. When she finished, assuming she didn’t doze off and drown, she’d dig a protein bar out of her bag, toast her new life with a lukewarm bottle of water, and enjoy a long, lonely, and probably sleepless night.

  Dimitri waited behind the tinted window on the passenger side of the limo until he saw Elle leave the reception area and head toward the elevator. He’d damn near swallowed his teeth when the unfamiliar blonde hopped out of the car. Damn, the woman could change her appearance at the drop of a hat. He turned to the driver who’d been white knuckling the steering wheel and staring straight ahead ever since Dimitri materialized in the seat beside him around Forty-Second Street. Dimitri suppressed a grin at the cacophony of ideas swirling around in the guy’s head. Sure, he could let him go on believing the big scary guy in black was a residual side effect of a bad acid trip he’d taken in the seventies, but it was probably kinder to wipe the guy’s memory. Otherwise, the poor bastard might never be the same.

  After ensuring the driver would have no recollection of his traveling companion, or the woman he’d chauffeured, Dimitri stalked into the lobby of the small hotel. It required less than a minute of casual small talk with the clerk to read his thoughts and ascertain Elle’s room number. Apparently, she’d made quite an impression on the guy, even wearing that ridiculous wig. Horny bastard. Dimitri took a minute to wipe the clerk’s mind, as well. What the son-of-a-bitch couldn’t remember, he couldn’t fantasize about, right?

  Dimitri casually strolled in the direction of the elevator. The doors slid open as soon as he pressed the button, but the minute they closed behind him, he decided his way was a lot faster. He faded into the hallway just outside Elle’s room. His pulse quickened as he heard her moving around inside. He tamped down his first instinct to simply barge in and demand to know what in the hell she was doing, sensing that approach might be counterproductive. He stepped to the left a
nd laid a large hand on the door of the room next to hers. He closed his eyes and concentrated, confirming it was unoccupied when he sensed no active thought processes from inside. He materialized inside the tiny room and promptly fell over the bed. He climbed to his feet, massaging the shoulder he’d slammed into the chest of drawers and mentally cursed whatever genius had the brilliant idea to take a telephone booth sized room and cram two queen size beds into it. After shrugging off his jacket, he stretched out on the bed nearest the connecting door, shoved a pillow behind his head, and waited to see what Elle would do next.

  His mouth went dry as he heard water moving through the pipes in the shared wall. Helplessly, he pictured Elle in nothing but a towel, her long, dark hair tumbling over her soft shoulders. Indulging in the momentary fantasy resulted in his body’s instantaneous and painful response. He’d been fighting the connection between them almost from the moment Kassian McAllister dropped her limp, injured body into his arms. He’d waited hundreds of years for a mate, only to discover the first woman who stirred more in him than passing lust was human. Oh yeah, he’d always been a lucky son-of-a-bitch like that! Well, once he figured out what she was up to and knew she was safe, he would walk away. Better to never know that sense of completeness than to spend the next forty or fifty years living under the shadow of impending death. He’d seen the frailty of the human condition up close and personal too many times. There was no way in hell he was going down that road. One brief mortal lifetime just wouldn’t cut it. Nope. He’d survived this long without a mate, and he could survive centuries more. It just wasn’t worth it. It didn’t matter that he was Earthbound and a licensed physician. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to save this one human woman from her own mortality. The irony left a bitter taste in his mouth. Besides, what woman in her right mind would want a scarred, stubborn, set-in-his-ways project like Dimitri Radchenko? Not a beautiful, intelligent woman like Elle Gates. She could have her pick of men. He groaned aloud and buried his meaty fist in the pillow with enough pent up frustration to send feathers flying everywhere, then sat up with a frown and scrubbed the fluff off of his face. Yeah, that made him feel better. Right.