clothes back into place for her. When was the last time anyone had done anything to take care of her? Sure, her female partners had watched her back during assignments just as she’d watched theirs, but that was business. This was wholly personal. The way Raum and Kobal touched her had nothing to do with hunting.
Her thoughts whirled, and she had no idea which way was up and which was down anymore. She needed to snap out of it and get her head on straight. They had a hunt coming, which she knew firsthand was never without danger. If one of the men was harmed on this case because she fucked up, she’d never forgive herself.
Ever.
She tugged her at the hem of her shirt, smoothing any wrinkles out of her clothing as they stepped off of the elevator. Nodding to the guards outside Samael’s office—a different set than the day before—she let Raum hold the door open for her. She stepped in and saw Samael standing over his desk, one hand braced on the wide surface, the other propped on his hip. His dark brows were drawn together over his eyes.
Thankfully, he looked too distracted to notice that his operatives reeked of sex and sweat.
As she moved closer, she could see pictures spread out over the desktop. It struck her, suddenly, how austere his office was. If her apartment had nothing personal in it, his space was plain old empty. There was a desk, chairs, a laptop, a cell phone, and that was it. She had no idea what his living quarters looked like, but since he was wedded to his job, she knew he spent most of his time here. It showed exactly how focused her boss was on his work and nothing else. No knickknacks, no mementos, nothing.
It was odd. She’d been in here thousands of times, and until Kobal had pointed it out to her, she hadn’t noticed or thought anything of it.
Shaking herself, she focused on the pictures on his desk while her partners drew up next to her to do the same. A man was featured in every shot, walking out of a bar, crossing a street, holstering a gun, slapping a young woman who wore almost nothing. Her breath caught when she saw who Samael had targeted this time.
“What?” Raum set his hand on the small of her back.
She pulled one of the pictures toward her, tapping her nail against the man’s face. “I know him.”
“You’ve tried to catch him before?” Kobal arched his eyebrows, his gaze reflecting surprise, as if it was beyond him that she might have failed to bring down an evil soul. She wanted to kiss him for the sentiment, but refrained. Bad. Idea. She shouldn’t even have let things go as far as they had in the elevator, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Best to keep going forward and stop looking back. She was usually pretty good at that, but the last day had dredged up memories she’d rather forget.
She shrugged and answered Kobal, “Not him. His boss. This guy used to be one of the underbosses for Vito De Luca. Looks like he took over after Lilim and I soul-sucked the big guy.”
“Name?” Raum snagged a couple of pictures and studied them.
Kobal pulled the thick manila file folder toward him and picked it up to read. “Bruno Costa. Former hit man, now crime boss, responsible for the murder of thirty-two people, and an accessory to a couple dozen more. Likes to torture his victims before he finishes them. Forty-six years old, married, no children, diabetic, heart attack waiting to happen.” He snorted. “Well, we can make that happen for him.”
The two men shuffled through the photos and paperwork gathered by Samael’s watchers. There was a suit coat draped across the table—probably swiped from a dry cleaner’s before it was laundered—that would have their target’s essence on it. Maron didn’t need to touch it. She’d been in the same room with him before. She’d sensed the corruption in him, but she couldn’t just snatch any soul she wanted. They had policies, red tape and bureaucracy even in hell. Somehow, she thought humans
Her thoughts whirled, and she had no idea which way was up and which was down anymore. She needed to snap out of it and get her head on straight. They had a hunt coming, which she knew firsthand was never without danger. If one of the men was harmed on this case because she fucked up, she’d never forgive herself.
Ever.
She tugged her at the hem of her shirt, smoothing any wrinkles out of her clothing as they stepped off of the elevator. Nodding to the guards outside Samael’s office—a different set than the day before—she let Raum hold the door open for her. She stepped in and saw Samael standing over his desk, one hand braced on the wide surface, the other propped on his hip. His dark brows were drawn together over his eyes.
Thankfully, he looked too distracted to notice that his operatives reeked of sex and sweat.
As she moved closer, she could see pictures spread out over the desktop. It struck her, suddenly, how austere his office was. If her apartment had nothing personal in it, his space was plain old empty. There was a desk, chairs, a laptop, a cell phone, and that was it. She had no idea what his living quarters looked like, but since he was wedded to his job, she knew he spent most of his time here. It showed exactly how focused her boss was on his work and nothing else. No knickknacks, no mementos, nothing.
It was odd. She’d been in here thousands of times, and until Kobal had pointed it out to her, she hadn’t noticed or thought anything of it.
Shaking herself, she focused on the pictures on his desk while her partners drew up next to her to do the same. A man was featured in every shot, walking out of a bar, crossing a street, holstering a gun, slapping a young woman who wore almost nothing. Her breath caught when she saw who Samael had targeted this time.
“What?” Raum set his hand on the small of her back.
She pulled one of the pictures toward her, tapping her nail against the man’s face. “I know him.”
“You’ve tried to catch him before?” Kobal arched his eyebrows, his gaze reflecting surprise, as if it was beyond him that she might have failed to bring down an evil soul. She wanted to kiss him for the sentiment, but refrained. Bad. Idea. She shouldn’t even have let things go as far as they had in the elevator, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Best to keep going forward and stop looking back. She was usually pretty good at that, but the last day had dredged up memories she’d rather forget.
She shrugged and answered Kobal, “Not him. His boss. This guy used to be one of the underbosses for Vito De Luca. Looks like he took over after Lilim and I soul-sucked the big guy.”
“Name?” Raum snagged a couple of pictures and studied them.
Kobal pulled the thick manila file folder toward him and picked it up to read. “Bruno Costa. Former hit man, now crime boss, responsible for the murder of thirty-two people, and an accessory to a couple dozen more. Likes to torture his victims before he finishes them. Forty-six years old, married, no children, diabetic, heart attack waiting to happen.” He snorted. “Well, we can make that happen for him.”
The two men shuffled through the photos and paperwork gathered by Samael’s watchers. There was a suit coat draped across the table—probably swiped from a dry cleaner’s before it was laundered—that would have their target’s essence on it. Maron didn’t need to touch it. She’d been in the same room with him before. She’d sensed the corruption in him, but she couldn’t just snatch any soul she wanted. They had policies, red tape and bureaucracy even in hell. Somehow, she thought humans
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