Avenging Angel (The Fallen #4)(44)

Not that he expected Jonathan to scream. At least, not right away.

Jonathan jerked at his cuffs. “You really think these are necessary, partner?”

“Was it necessary to cuff me?” Marna demanded, stepping forward.

Tanner wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Easy.” Who would have thought that he’d be the one playing good cop?

Jonathan’s gaze slid over them both. Lingered on the hand Tanner had around Marna. “I thought it would be . . . like that.”

“Watch it,” Tanner advised, voice still mild.

“I mean, why risk everything? Why put your job on the line? Why lie to me? Unless . . . unless you were screwing her.”

Tanner kicked out, sending the wooden chair slamming to the ground. It hit on the side, and Jonathan groaned when his arm rammed into the cement.

“Told you,” Tanner said, “to watch it.” That jerk wasn’t going to slam Marna.

Jonathan looked up at him and his lips tightened. “You think you can keep her? You think there aren’t a dozen paranormals in this town desperate for a chance to get at her?”

“Is that why you were trying to get her?” Tanner demanded as the fury rose inside him. “Were you planning to sell her off to the highest bidder?” Over my cold and dead body.

Marna’s hands pressed against Tanner’s side. “I told you, he said there was someone waiting for me.”

Jonathan shrugged and tried to lever himself off the ground. “What can I say? Angels are in demand.”

Growling, Tanner surged forward and yanked the bastard to his feet. Tanner’s boots kicked away the shattered remains of the chair. “I thought you wanted me to trust you,” Tanner said. Right, he’d known that was bull. Mocking now, he continued, “I thought you wanted to help.”

“I did! Then I realized you weren’t exactly playing on the side of the good guys anymore.” Jonathan didn’t fight Tanner’s hold, but his eyes blazed. “Turning on your own, leaving that poor kid to—”

“That wasn’t me!” Tanner shoved him back. He had to. His claws wanted to break free, and he didn’t want to accidentally behead the guy.

Maybe not so accidentally.

“I saw the video.”

“What you saw . . .” Tanner glanced back at Marna. She watched the human with narrowed eyes. “What you saw was a demon using one hell of a lot of glamour magic. My face, not me.”

Jonathan blinked, and his shoulders seemed to slump. “What? They can . . . they can do that?”

Marna laughed. The sound was bitter, not like her. “If they’re strong enough, they can do almost anything.”

Since Cody was a demon, Tanner had learned early on about the power levels among those beings. Some demons were on the low end of the demon power scale, ranked as ones or twos—pretty much humans with a few extra skills. But, while the majority of the demons running loose on the earth were low-levels, there were some badass demons out there.

Demons who tipped the scales by hitting a power level of nine, or even . . . in the worst case situation, ten.

Level-tens were supposed to be able to bring hell to earth. Literally. To be able to control the minds of humans with barely a thought.

He’d heard rumors of one level-ten in Atlanta. A guy named Niol who could destroy a city block with a wave of his hand.

Just another reason why Tanner made it a point not to visit that area.

Was he dealing with a level-ten in New Orleans? If so, they could all be screwed.

“I’m supposed to just believe you, right?” Jonathan blasted, face reddening as he pulled against the cuffs again. “You’ve been lying to me for days. You’re hiding a killer and screwing her—”

Tanner punched him. Jonathan slammed back down to the ground once more.

Marna’s breath whispered out in a soft exhale. Tanner caught her hand and rubbed his fingers over the back of her knuckles. He wasn’t just . . . screwing her. If Jonathan said that again, he’d taste some more cement.

Groaning, Jonathan managed to crawl back to his knees.

“I’m not a killer,” Marna said quietly. Then she added, “Not anymore.”

Jonathan’s head lifted, and he stared at her. Tanner didn’t like that look. Too intense. Too dark.

It’s the way I look at her.

Tanner put his body in front of hers. “I lied to you.” Fine, time to clear the air. “But what the hell was I supposed to do? Tell you that the suspect we were bringing in was an angel of death? That you couldn’t touch her, because she might kill you?” Jonathan didn’t need to know that her touch didn’t work anymore.

No one needed to know that fact. If he could keep her safe by making everyone else think that she was too dangerous to be around . . .

I’ll lie my ass off. And he wouldn’t be sorry about it. Hell, he wasn’t ever sorry. Just another line. Another lie.

Cops weren’t supposed to lie.

Killers were.

Some days, it was so hard to be both.

“She can kill with a touch?” Jonathan managed to stand on his feet with only a slight stagger.

“I told you not to touch me,” Marna said as she stepped around Tanner. “You should have listened.”

The lady still wasn’t lying. Maybe he should learn to twist the truth the way she did. Would that make his conscience any cleaner?