Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy) (14 page)

A
dmittedly
, I was a tiny dickhole when it came to figuring out what to say to my mother and, for now, avoidance was the name of my game. (Personally, I would have called myself a pussy, but after all the births I’d witnessed… A woman’s pussy was hella badass.)

Which meant instead of hunting her down, I went searching for some of Meadow’s dealers. I wandered into a couple of sleazy bars, asking vague questions, and most were hesitant to talk. No one liked snoops, and unfortunately, my reputation as a member of the First Family of Hell didn’t do me any good in the human population. I did take joy in roughing up a few junkies and finally got the name of a fairly big local dealer—Dex.

I found him lazing in an alley, the stank of garbage filling the air combined with a stinging aroma of drugs. Humans probably didn’t pick up the subtle scent, but my wolf did—and hated it.

A couple of goons bracketed him—one sporting gold teeth and the other with long dark hair. I knew when all was said and done, Gold Teeth and Dark Hair were going to be on the ground. It was just a matter of how difficult Dex was gonna be. Dex, a scrawny fucker who looked like he weighed no more than one seventy-five soaking wet. He puffed on a cigarette, eyeing me while I approached. He gave me one of those sleazy smiles men flashed when they saw something they liked.

“Well, good lookin’.” He took one last puff and tossed the cigarette aside. “What can I do for you? And please tell me it involves the two of us fucking in the backseat of my car.”

I could have dealt with him being an asshole—even a somewhat sexually suggestive asshole. But the wolf couldn’t tolerate a man thinking I was available for a fuck. I flashed him a wide smile as I approached, not stopping until I was within reach, and then punched him in his crooked, fugly assed nose. I smiled wider when I heard that nice little crunch.

“Fucking bitch!” He grabbed his bleeding nose, staggering away from me.

Goons whipped out guns—bigger was not always better—and I almost laughed. Guns in close quarters? They were more apt to shoot each other. And really, they were nothing against someone who knew what the fuck they were doing. Then again, these assholes dealt with people who cowered at the first sight of matte-black metal.

I’d been disarming idiots for nearly six hundred years.

Before the first muzzle cleared the holster, I was in motion. Gold Teeth was the quicker of the two, so that also meant he went down first. I didn’t want to waste any excess energy, so I put him on the ground as quickly as possible. I wasn’t here to revel in pain, just get information.

I slammed my right hand against the inside of his wrist while I grabbed the slide of the gun with my left. A quick twist and the gun was mine, firmly in my hand. Instead of popping off a few rounds, I slammed my boot into the side of his knee, smiling with that crunch and his scream.

My hands weren’t idle, nimble fingers and hellfire flashing until I held a melted barrel.

While Gold Teeth cried for Momma, I went after Dark Hair. He, at least, knew enough to realize there needed to be space between us if he was gonna fire off a few rounds.

Or… he was running like a baby dickhole. A glance at the utter terror on his face confirmed my dickhole belief.

Two running steps had me in range and the third movement was a high kick to his head. Bones crunched, hard rubber soles causing a lot of lovely breaky damage. He dropped his gun to cradle his face, and I caught it before it touched the asphalt. Another flare, two more pieces of useless, charred metal.

Dex fumbled to get his own gun out, fingers grasping at the weapon tucked in the front of his pants. FYI, not a good place to put a gun.

One, because he could shoot his dick off. Trigger discipline was a thing, and drug dealers should learn it.

Two, because it was hard to get the gun free when it was tangled in baggy boxers and ratty jeans.

While he whined like a puppy, I casually walked toward him. No way was he gonna get that shit out before I got to him. The harder he fought, the more tangled he got. Heh. That rhymed.

He backed away, matching me step for step. His eyes kept flicking between me and the gun trapped in his belt, and I was pretty sure I heard a whimper or two. That was fun. Dex finally came up against a brick wall, his retreat at an end.

I had to give it to him, he had dedication and perseverance when it came to survival. He didn’t stop tugging until I was close and handled shit myself. One wrench and I held the nine mil in my right hand. Another and I had two pieces. They really didn’t make ‘em like they used to.

I held up the broken gun, showing him exactly what I’d done, and then dropped the pieces to the ground. “You and I need to talk.” I tugged one of the baggies carrying the demon symbol and held it in front of his face. “Have you been distributing this shit?”

A moan and soft scuffle sounded behind me, followed immediately by a thud. Gold Teeth and Dark Hair weren’t gonna be getting up anytime soon.

“What the fuck is this shit? Who the fuck are you?” He tried to push past me and run, but I grabbed the front of his shirt and swung him around, throwing him off-balance and onto the damp ground.

I planted my boot in the middle of his chest, taking comfort in the huge whoosh of air that left his lungs.

“Me?
I’m
the fucking bitch who’s asking the questions.” I leaned down and shoved the bag in his face. “Do. You. Sell. This. Shit?”

He tried to shove my foot off his chest, but he didn’t have enough leverage. “Fuck you, bitch!”

I couldn’t be mad at him for calling me a bitch when I called myself that.

“Not if you were hung like a wolf, asshole.” I slipped a dagger from my boot and pressed it against his neck. That had him shutting his mouth real quick. His body went tense, head tilted sideways to move away from the blade, but the ground didn’t give him anywhere to go.

“Talk.” I jiggled the baggie again.

“Okay! Shit! I got it from my supplier. Real cheap. Some new import shit.”

Duh, it was from Hell, but he didn’t know that. “From where?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t ask.” He wheezed. “I move product. I don’t do goddamn customs inspections.”

“Where can I find your supplier?”

“No fucking way! He’d kill me.”

I gave him more of my weight, compressing his lungs. I lifted the dagger from his neck and traced his cheek, leaving a trail of blood in my wake. Then I pressed the pointed tip just beneath his eye. “You don’t seem to have a firm grasp of the situation.” I increased the pressure. “One shove gets your eye
and
your brain and I’ll enjoy your screams. So, where can I find your supplier?”

His eyes widened, true fear finally filling his expression. “Fine,” he rasped. “But you didn’t hear shit from me.”

Right.
Of course
I didn’t. I was tempted to tell his supplier exactly where I got the information. Then I could just sit back and enjoy the show, but then I remembered I was probably going to kill his supplier so… Dammit.

I got the address out of him, an abandoned hotel at the edge of town. I wasn’t familiar with the exact address, but I knew the area. Isolated. Out of the way of tourist traffic. An area easy to get yourself lost in.

Perfect place if you were trying not to be found.

I smiled at him and eased up on the pressure, letting him breathe a little easier. I slowly pulled the blade away from his eye but left it sitting on his cheek.

Then, to fuck with him, I slapped his face with the flat of the blade. “I’m gonna let you up and then you need to go find Jesus, hear me?”

I
wasn’t sure On High would cut the guy a break, but I might as well try to help nudge humans along. The big guy gave Sam some of his grace back, after all.

It was my good deed of the day since I planned on killing a few peeps before tomorrow’s dawn.

I left the dealer and his thugs bleeding in the alley, none of ‘em getting up to follow me.

Smart idiots.

I headed straight for Momma R’s, anxious to strap on my weapons—lethal and non-lethal—and get to the hotel. When I got there, I found Sam sitting on the front porch steps, head cradled in his hands. I climbed from my car and headed toward him, my wolf nudging me along, anxious to be at his side. I kept remembering the feel of his skin beneath mine hands, his warmth permeating me.

I crouched in front of him and kept my hands to myself no matter how much I wanted to touch him again. His shoulders were slumped, hair falling forward and masking some of his face. I remembered the silky strands teasing my thighs the last time he went down on me, the last time I came from his caresses.

My pussy clenched, clit twitching, and I shoved back my need. The wolf snarled, but there wasn’t much heat behind the sound. It knew we needed to let Sam do his thing, to find forgiveness, and seducing him wouldn’t help his cause.

My demon blood didn’t give a fuck.

“Sam?”

He breathed deeply and lifted his head to meet my gaze. The red in his eyes wasn’t as pronounced as before, but now he had large creases around his eyes and across his forehead. Sure signs of exhaustion.

“Hey,” the word was barely a whisper.

“How you doing?”

“Exhausted.” He cleared his throat. “I cleanse one and another dozen show up. I just…”

His fatigue and feelings of defeat weighed on me, shoving me down. I could only imagine what it felt like to him. “You get that it’s your darker half, right? Making you wanna give up?”

It’d been trained out of me, to a point. Papa Leth wouldn’t have a weakling for a child. Letholdus, first to enter Jerusalem, did not fight the infidels and get granted eternal life only to have a fearful daughter. He was disappointed she was a girl, but she would fight like a man.

The first father of Caith Belinha Morningstar did not have offspring that would give up just because she hadn’t slept in two weeks or eaten in three.

Yeah, great childhood, but it’d helped me in a lot of ways. Every time I decided
this
was the moment I’d call it good and give in, his training reminded me giving up wasn’t an option.

Sam quirked a brow and gave me a soft smile. “I know, but it doesn’t make the feelings go away.”

No, no it didn’t.

And it made me hate myself a little bit for what I was about to ask him to do.

“I found out about this hotel…” I told him about what I’d been doing, leaving out the more violent parts for now. He needed to get his head together before we went to the hotel. I just knew it’d be
we
. Sam was my guy, my mate, and no mate worth having would voluntarily let his other half go into a dangerous situation alone.

I’d only gotten away with it recently because he’d been preoccupied with cleansing.

He moved to rise and I stepped back, giving him more space. I didn’t trust myself to lay hands on him and let go. I was a badass, but I also craved him. He swayed slightly and I fisted my hands. I could do this. I could keep my hands to myself.

“I’ve been questioning the ones I cleanse,” he sounded a little better. Like getting upright helped. Or, if I was being conceited, my presence made him feel better. “Most don’t wanna talk to me, but I’ve gotten a few leads, too. One of them led me by that hotel. I went by earlier to see if there were any lost souls, but there were several dozen humans there. I didn’t trust myself if they decided to get violent.”

“Enough said.” I hated that he still had that part of him that craved death, that made him doubt himself. After all the good he’d done in the last couple of days, I couldn’t let him risk falling off the murderous wagon. If we handled things together, I could at least stay his hand. I could be there to bring him back from the brink if he got too close to the edge.

At least, I hoped so. It’d worked before, and I hoped it’d work again.

The ride to the hotel was silent, me trying not to breathe in Sam’s scent or reach out for him. Him with his eyes closed and taking deep breaths. He’d told me he had to find his center and calm for what was to come so I left him alone.

I slowly drove past the hotel, checking things out before I pulled in. It was rundown, covered in graffiti, and looked like it was a large gust of wind away from being condemned. Perfect place for a group of squatters to gather. This section of town wasn’t the greatest, and I knew the area cops tended to overlook them if there was no landlord or property manager around to bitch at. Unless they got complaints, they steered clear.

Sam led me to the main lobby and we lingered outside, peering in through the stained, dirty windows. A couple dozen people hung around the area, smoking and drinking. They didn’t
look
particularly dangerous, but I’d seen what the demon drug could do to ordinary humans. With this many of them, we could find ourselves overwhelmed. Particularly since lethal measures were off the table.

Or at least, they weren’t near the edge of the table. They were in the back and I’d have to metaphorically stretch and lean and… yeah.

I spotted several ritual circles, dried blood and looking exactly what we’d found when we followed that preppy asshole.

“All righty then.” I grasped the end of my expandable titanium police baton—strong, long, and hard to break—and whipped it open. I’d run out of bats at Momma R’s and she’d forced it on me. The baton had been a holiday—not Christmas—present and I’d left it languishing in her closet. “You ready?”

Sam gave me a jerky nod. He wasn’t ready, but he was as close to it as he could get.

We burst through the door, side by side, and stalked right up to the group. A few cringed and scattered to hide in corners, but more than a dozen jumped to their feet, fists clenched and ready for a fight. More than one pulled out switchblades, and one hefted an old tire iron.

Yay!

I let Sam do the talking though I could already tell it’d be a waste of time. But I got that he had to try.

“We’re here to offer you a chance to change your ways.” His voice held that soothing cadence that was familiar now. “Let us get rid of this garbage you’ve polluted your bodies with and—“