Marna awoke to pain. Her eyelids flew open as a white-hot fire sent bolts of agony throbbing through her whole body. The fire burned the hottest near her shoulder blades. Burned.

She screamed as loudly as she could and she jerked, trying to rise and get away from that agony—only to find that she couldn’t move. They’d strapped her onto some kind of table. She was lying facedown. Held almost completely immobile by the bonds.

“Easy.” A man’s slow, drawling voice came from beside her. She saw faded jeans. Tanned hands. Then he bent and brushed back her hair. “You’re gonna be all right.”

Marna stared into his face—strong, fierce, dangerous—and knew he was lying. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. She knew his face. Knew him—and knew that he wasn’t a man at all. Not really.

Monster.

A beast lived beneath his skin. One that was just dying to break out.

Another stab of pain hit her back, and she flinched at the fresh burn. The monster’s face tightened, and he said, “Don’t worry. He’s almost finished sewing your wounds closed.”

Sewing your wounds…

She swallowed a scream. Someone was sewing up her back. Mending flesh that had been sliced open.

Nausea hit her. Fear and fury had her shaking. “My…wings...” Marna barely managed to get the words out because her throat was so dry. Parched. Probably from all her screams. But she had to ask about her wings. They were the only things that mattered.

Marna was an angel, and an angel without wings...

Hello, hell.

An angel without wings could never return to heaven.

Memories rushed through her mind. She’d had her wings hours before. She’d been doing her duty. Just following orders, until another monster had attacked. Until a bastard had sliced her wings right from her body and left her to die in the rotting vegetation of a Louisiana swamp.

The man before her—no, remember, he’s a monster, too, you’ve seen the panther beneath his skin—brushed his fingers over her cheek and wiped away her tears. “I’m sorry, but there was nothing we could do.”

She bit her lip to hold back any more cries.

A muscle flexed along the hard line of his jaw. “He—he sliced them all the way off. Fuck, he cut into your bones.”

There would be no going home for her.

Her eyes closed as hope died. She didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

Another poke in her back. More fiery pain. She knew what that pain was now. A needle. Thread. Going in and out of her body. Sewing up the gaping holes that had been left behind.

My wings are gone.

For centuries, she’d been an angel. Her job had been to ferry the souls of humans from this world to the next.

She’d never known fear. Anger. Pain. Those were all human emotions. Angels were far from human. She’d never known⁠—

Not until her wings had been cut away by a panther shifter who feared no one and nothing.

Without the wings, the magic that had kept her immune from human feelings was gone. Wiped away. The emotions hit her now. They slammed into her with the force of a speeding train.

Fear.

Rage.

“All done.” Another male voice. Had to be the one with the needle. She opened her eyes but didn’t look his way. She didn’t want to see him or see her own blood staining his hands. Marna had turned her head so that her eyes met the monster’s green stare.

Such a pity. A monster shouldn’t have a face like his. He shouldn’t have such deep eyes, eyes that made it look as if he actually cared what happened to her.

“You’re gonna be all right,” her monster told her. Hadn’t he said that before?

Marna managed to slowly shake her head. No, she’d never be all right again.

Then the monster leaned close to her. His breath feathered over her cheek as he promised, “I’ll kill him for you.”

She wasn’t supposed to care about revenge. She hadn’t been a punishment angel. Vengeance shouldn’t have been her calling.

It shouldn’t…

But she wanted to give pain for pain. Her life was gone. It had been ripped away by a panther shifter’s claws. And now another shifter stood in front of her—and offered to destroy for her.

Vengeance would come. She’d make sure of it. After all, there wasn’t anything else waiting for her now. Not heaven. Not hell. She was in hell for an angel.

There was only...

Vengeance.

The delicate angel had broken.

Did she even realize that tears slid down her cheeks? Tanner Chance kept guard by her side. His hand was on her arm, stroking her.

He couldn’t seem to stop touching her.

They’d found her in the swamp. At first, he’d thought that she was already dead.

So much blood.

Then she’d moved, and he’d realized just what his sick freak of a brother had done.

Sliced the wings right off an angel.

Her lashes lifted and her eyes—the palest blue he’d ever seen— locked right on him. No, those eyes seemed to see right through him. Tanner cleared his throat. He was a cop. He’d spent too many years seeing blank expressions like that on the faces of victims.

“You...you’re safe now.” He’d keep her safe. “You just need to rest.”

She didn’t speak. He didn’t know what else he was supposed to say to her. He never knew what to say to the victims. He just knew how to make the bastards who hurt them pay.

He was very good at delivering justice. But this time...

An angel.

She had to hate him. She knew who he was. Knew that his brother was the fucked-up asshole who’d tortured her. Tanner cleared his throat and had to say, “I’m not like him.”

Her eyes never left his.

And he was still touching her. Her skin was the softest he’d ever felt. The smoothest. Her skin was golden and perfect.

Or, it had been, until claws had ripped into her back and torn that skin wide open.

Her breath exhaled softly. “When I’m stronger...”

Tanner leaned closer because he could barely hear her words. “What is it? What do you need?” Anything. He’d do⁠—

“When I’m stronger, you should...stay away from me.”

He glanced at her small hands. They’d had to bind her wrists when they strapped her down. Not to hurt her, but to keep the little blond angel from hurting them.

The angel before him—Marna—she wasn’t some sweet and gentle guardian angel. She was an angel of death. One who could—and had—killed with just a touch.

He could touch her all that he wanted. That was the way the game worked with angels. But the instant her hand touched him...

Dead.

If she wanted him dead, all she had to do was touch him, and she could send him straight to hell.

She smiled at him. The smile made her seem even lovelier, and then the angel said, “When I’m stronger, when I’m free...get as far away from me as you can.” The faintest of pauses, then, “Because I’ll have my vengeance.”

She didn’t look so broken anymore.

“Remember...to run, shifter.”

He didn’t move, and he damn well kept touching her. “I’m not the running kind.” Not anymore. The scared kid he’d been had died long ago. Now he fought any bastard who came his way, and he made sure to win his battles.

His angel kept her cold smile and told him, “Wait and see…You will be.”

Two months later…

A girl knew when she was being stalked.

Marna didn’t glance over her shoulder as she made her way through the bar. What would have been the point? She felt his eyes on her. Knew he was there.

Sometimes, it seemed that he was always there.

Bodies brushed against her as she wound through the crowd. Marna didn’t recoil as she’d done when she first lost her wings. She’d grown used to the touches over the last few weeks.

Music blasted out in a steady beat from the speakers that hung near the ceiling. The place was packed, filled with men and women drunk on a powerful combination of alcohol and lust. The too-loud club shouldn’t have been her kind of place.

It was.

She made it to the bar and lightly tapped her fingers against the counter. Then she let her gaze lift to the mirror that waited behind that bar.

In that shining surface, she saw him perfectly.

Tall, strong, with wide shoulders and muscled arms, her watcher easily cleared a path through the dancers. Maybe it was the harsh intensity on his face that made folks step back. The man stalking so purposefully toward her wasn’t handsome, not really. His features were too hard, too stark.

But...

But there was something about the high arch of his cheeks, the square cut of his jaw and the sensual curve of his lips. With that thick mass of dark hair that skimmed his shoulders, Marna supposed that some human women might find him attractive. Even sexy. Humans always seemed to think the dangerous ones were sexy.

Good thing she wasn’t human.

His eyes—dark green and burning with a quiet fury—were on hers in that mirror. She almost smiled at him. Instead, she lifted her drink and sipped it lightly.

What did the big, bad shifter want now? She’d tried to play it nice. She’d told him to stay away. She’d given the guy fair warning, but…

“What in the hell have you done?”

Tanner Chance closed in on her. His voice had been pitched low, so that only she could hear him, and his body curved around hers. He didn’t touch her, not yet, but only a few inches separated them.

She turned her head and felt the whisper of his breath on her cheek. For some reason, Marna shivered.

“You didn’t have to do it,” he gritted and, oh, yes, that was most definitely fury burning in his gaze. He’d better be careful. Too much fury wasn’t good for the beast that he carried inside. “You could have just lived your life. Could have just gone on⁠—”

A laugh slipped from her, but the sound was bitter. “What life?” Her life had been clawed away from her. There was no heaven for her, not anymore. Just hell on earth. Feelings, emotions, needs—they seemed to constantly swamp her now, and they were driving her crazy.

No one had warned her about the hungers…for food, drink…pleasure.

Men.

Without the magic from her wings, every human need and emotion slammed into her, and each day, Marna felt she was losing a bit more of herself.

And I used to wonder what it would be like to be human.

What she wouldn’t give to be ignorant again. To just…not know.

He leaned in closer to her. Still not touching, but every part of her was hyper aware of him.

“Others know what you did,” Tanner said.

Marna blinked, lost. “Uh, good?” Because she didn’t know. Had no clue what the shifter was rambling about now. But he smelled good. Not like the others in that place. He didn’t reek of stale beer or too much cheap cologne. He smelled⁠—

“They know you killed those men.”

Whoa. Back up. She hadn’t killed anyone.

His eyes narrowed, the faint lines tightening on his face. “You left their bodies in the alley. What did you think would happen? That no one would find out what you were doing?”

Another laugh came from her as she turned away. “I have no idea what you’re⁠—”

His fingers closed around her shoulder.

Marna stilled. “You know better.” He did. Tanner had a pretty thorough knowledge of angels, so he understood just how dangerous her kind could be. She’d gone out of her way to warn Tanner off. Seeing him reminded her too much of what she’d lost. Because of⁠—

“Why am I still breathing?” His other hand rose and pulled her off the bar stool and up against him. “If you want me dead, then why am I still standing?”

His body was so hot and hard against hers. Her heartbeat kicked faster in her chest. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him because Tanner was really just huge. His hands seemed to burn right through her clothes, their weight a heavy touch that made her feel strangely restless.

His gaze searched hers. “Why?”

She brought her hands up between them. Placed her palms right over his chest, smiled and⁠—

“We got a problem here?” the bartender demanded as he slapped his hands down on the counter.

Tanner didn’t turn his way. “Mind your own business.”

Didn’t he sound all tough and deadly? Didn’t he look that way, too? In his faded jeans, in that black T-shirt that pulled across his muscled chest, with his dark hair mussed and that hard jaw clenched, Tanner looked like he could kick the ass of any fool dumb enough to get in his way.

Marna wasn’t a fool.

She also wasn’t weak.

She spared a glance for the bartender. About six-three, way over two hundred pounds, and sporting fists that would probably make most men tremble in fear. “I’m okay.” She had this.

The bartender’s eyes narrowed and clearly showed his doubt. “You sure, honey? Because I can kick this jerk out. You just say the word.”

Tanner swore and stepped away from her. Ah, giving up already? But then he shoved his hand inside his back pocket and yanked out some kind of wallet. He flashed his ID and snarled, “Police, asshole. Now step the hell back and stay out of our business.”

Oh, Tanner was playing the police card? Figured he’d stoop that low.

Her lips twisted as she started to walk away.

“You’re not leaving me, Marna.” There was no missing the anger beneath his words.

So what? She had her own share of anger. “Watch me.” Yes, she’d actually taunted the big, bad shifter. Marna marched away. She kept her head up and her back straight. She’d just clear her own way through the crowd.

Tanner caught her arm after she’d taken about five steps. “Not gonna happen, baby.”

Wait…baby?

She glanced at him and saw that he had pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Her jaw dropped.

“I tried to do this the easy way, but you didn’t want that.” He snapped one cuff around her wrist before she could even blink. “So I guess we’ll go for the drama.”

He spun her around and locked both cuffs behind her back. Marna was aware of the avid stares and not-so-quiet whispers that focused on her.

“You’re comin’ with me,” Tanner told her, his faint Southern accent deepening a bit, “because there is no way I’m letting you out of my sight now.”

She yanked at the cuffs. She should have been able to snap the things in two with hardly any effort.

Only…no snap.

He twisted her back around and pushed her forward. The crowd backed up. “Thanks to a voodoo priestess I know off Bourbon Street, I was able to add a little something extra to those cuffs.” Tanner’s words were pitched low. “They can keep level-ten demons locked up, so I figured they’d keep you held tight, too.”

This wasn’t happening. She yanked against the cuffs again. No give.

Tanner had promised that he’d never hurt her. He’d seemed…good, despite his sadistic freak of a now-dead brother. She’d been willing to let Tanner keep living.

Only now he was cuffing her?

Fury churned in her gut. “You aren’t doing this to me.”

He moved so that he stood even closer to her. Close enough for her to see the dark gold flecks in his eyes. “I’ve got two dead bodies that I can trace back to you. Trust me, I am doing this.”

Two dead bodies? Marna shook her head. She hadn’t killed anyone.

Though that certainly hadn’t been for lack of trying.

I can’t kill anymore. No one knew that secret shame yet.

But the shifter wasn’t giving her time to respond. More cops were spilling through the doorway, guys in uniform this time, and they were all closing in on her. Great. Obviously, she was having another one of her lucky days.

“It shouldn’t have been this way,” Tanner told her, and anger was heating his voice again. An anger that seemed to match her own. “Fuck, too many know. Don’t you understand? There’s nothing I can do.”

She was surrounded. Men and women in blue were staring at her with narrowed eyes while Tanner started spilling some lines about her needing an attorney and having the right to stay silent.

And she did stay silent. While Tanner led her outside. While he pushed her into the back of a patrol car. And even while the vehicle raced down the road.

Silent, but the fury within her continued to build.

An angel in hell.

Tanner’s jaw clenched as he led Marna through the busy New Orleans police station. As always, she looked delicate, vulnerable—deceptively so. The woman barely skimmed the top of his shoulders. Her frame was small and slender, but Marna did have some curves he’d admired far too many times.

Not now.

Now wasn’t the time for admiring. Now was the time for figuring out how the hell he was supposed to save that curvy ass of hers.

A few of the cops stepped back when Tanner and Marna approached them. He could tell by the look in their eyes that they thought a mistake must have been made. No way were they looking at the face of a killer.

A killer shouldn’t have an angel’s face.

A killer damn well shouldn’t be an angel.

He glanced down at her, sparing her a brief glance as he led them back to the interrogation room. Her eyes were wide, a pale blue that had haunted his dreams too often. Her cheeks were high, and her chin the slightest bit pointed. Her nose, small and straight, was currently held in the air. Though his angel wasn’t talking, she sure was pissed. He could see the fury in the set of her jaw and in the tightness of her lips.

Her lips.

He didn’t even know how many fantasies he’d had about her lips. Should an angel truly have lips that looked like they had been made just for sin?

Jonathan Pardue, his new partner, whistled as he headed toward them. “This is the woman who killed those men?”

Marna stiffened. “I didn’t⁠—”

Tanner’s hold on her tightened. He needed to get her away from all the eyes and ears as fast as he could. If so many cops hadn’t already been aware of the situation, he would have been able to protect her longer.

But, no, the lady just had to start making her kills public. Shit. She should know better. Most paranormals at least tried to keep their kills in the dark.

“You know what they say…” Tanner murmured as he plastered a tight smile on his face. He’d been working with Jonathan less than a month. Not nearly long enough to trust the man with all the secrets he carried. “Appearances can bite you in the ass.” Because if you were fool enough to think a pretty face belonged to an innocent woman, you deserved to get your ass bitten.

Jonathan laughed and opened the door to the interrogation room. His brown eyes lingered a bit too long on Marna.

Tanner felt the beast that he carried begin to stir inside of him. Back off.

“I can help you with this one,” Jonathan offered as he tried to follow them into the room. “I’ll be glad to⁠—”

“Get us some coffee,” Tanner told him as he steered Marna toward the small table. “Then we’ll all settle down and find out just why this lady thought it would be fun to kill.”

Tanner saw her shoulders tense.

Jonathan headed out, grumbling about having to fetch shit, but Tanner was just glad the man was gone. He forced Marna to sit in the wobbly chair—the thing always wobbled and irritated the suspects, a nice bonus, usually. Then he leaned in close and put his mouth right at her ear.

And he had to fight back the impulse to lick. To taste.

She’s a killer.

But then, so was he.

“I know that you wanted your revenge.” His breath feathered over her ear, and Tanner was close enough to see the small shiver that shook her. “But, dammit, baby, you should have been more careful.” His voice was whisper-soft. “You left two eyewitnesses in that alley.” Eyewitnesses that had provided perfect, matching descriptions of her.

Because of those witnesses, everyone in the station knew about her. An APB had been put out instantly, and Tanner had known that he had to act. He hadn’t been willing to trust anyone else to bring her in.

Hell, Marna might have just decided to kill anyone else who’d gone after her.

He’d had to move, fast, and get her under his control.

Her head turned, and her eyes met his. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, shifter.” Her voice was as low as his. The room was monitored, and knowing the guys in the station, Tanner had no doubt that other folks were in the next room, watching them through the two-way mirror that lined the left wall.

But while they could watch, those viewers wouldn’t be able to hear anything that was said. Tanner had taken the liberty of disconnecting the audio system before going after Marna.

Yeah, he knew how to plan ahead. Some days.

“My brother and his asshole packmates hurt you.” Hurt, such a tame word for the hell they’d put her through. His brother Brandt had cut the wings right from Marna’s back and left her to die in the dirt. Brandt’s packmates hadn’t done a thing to save her. They’d been too busy following Brandt like the fools they were. She’d suffered so much because of the events of that night.

Wanting a little payback, yeah, he could understand that, but…“Did you have to kill them in front of witnesses? I told you that I’d make sure they weren’t threats to you any longer.” Brandt was already dead, courtesy of a fallen angel named Azrael, the most powerful being that Tanner had ever seen. After their battle, there’d literally been nothing left of Brandt.

Nothing, except the remains of his pack.

So Marna had decided she wanted her vengeance, and she’d gone after them. But killing them so blatantly? Hell, didn’t the woman realize she had to be careful in a world full of humans? Murdering bastards had to be stopped, damn straight, but they didn’t have to be taken out by her hand.

He exhaled slowly and kept his body between her and that two-way mirror. He could be her shield, or try to be anyway. “My boss wants you locked up.” He jerked a hand through his hair. “And what do you think will happen to you in jail?”

She smiled, and the sight iced his blood. “Nothing.”

Right. His back teeth clenched. What did she have to be afraid of? It was the poor assholes who’d be locked up with her—they were the ones who needed to fear.

Someone like her could never see the inside of a jail. He had to make sure things didn’t progress that far.

But with those witnesses and the story already spreading to the media, he didn’t have a whole lot of options.

Except...

“You made this too public. Shit, Marna, you’re backing me against the wall here.” He was supposed to uphold the law, but he wasn’t human. Far from it. He knew the score.

Supernaturals can’t always follow the rules. Jails sure as shit couldn’t hold the most powerful threats out there.

He had to get the rest of the cops off his back. Off her.

“I didn’t do anything.” Her voice was still soft, but more anger cracked through the words. “I don’t know who your witnesses think they saw, but it wasn’t me.”

At her words, he blinked, stunned.

Tanner remembered the very first lesson he’d learned about her kind. Angels can’t lie.

Even angels who’d fallen were still bound to tell the truth. Sure, they could twist facts to suit them—they were real good at twisting—but they couldn’t tell a straight-out lie.

He curled his hands around her shoulders and pulled her even closer to him. Her hands were still bound behind her back, and her chin notched up as she faced him.

“Two members of Brandt’s pack are dead. Their bodies were found in an alley, without so much as a scratch on them.” No scratches, but there’d been plenty of terror to see on the frozen faces of Michael LaRue and Beau Stokes.

While there might be plenty of paranormals lurking in the shadows of New Orleans, there weren’t very many who could kill with a touch.

Even fewer who looked like her.

He thought her face paled as she stared at him, but Marna told him flatly, “I swear to you, it wasn’t me.”

Then someone sure wanted him to think it had been.

Footsteps tapped outside. Jonathan, hurrying back. Tanner leaned forward and unlocked her cuffs. Her breath sighed out as her hands were freed. “Thank you.” The words whispered from her.

Her scent—fresh flowers—teased his nose. “Don’t be thanking me yet.” Because they weren’t even close to being out of this mess. But he owed her, and he couldn’t just leave her to twist in the wind.

Innocent or not.

“Trust me.” That was all he had time to say. The door swung open, and Jonathan came sauntering back in with two cups of coffee cradled in the crook of one arm.

Marna didn’t respond to Tanner’s words, but that wasn’t particularly surprising. Trust? From her? Like that would happen any time soon. His angel wasn’t the trusting sort.

Since her fall, hell, he wasn’t even sure what she’d become.

Dangerous.

With a light touch on her shoulder, Tanner urged her to stay in the chair. They’d have to play the interrogation game, for a while.

“Here you go, ma’am.” Jonathan slid a Styrofoam cup toward her. Marna didn’t take the drink. He shrugged and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. Sipping his own drink, Jonathan reached for a manila file that had been waiting on the table. “You don’t look like the killing type.”

The prick hadn’t brought him any coffee. Jonathan offered him a smug smile, one that vanished as the human flipped open the file and stared back down at the crime scene photos. “I just don’t know how you did it.”

Marna glanced down at the photos. Because he was watching so closely, Tanner saw the faint widening of her eyes.

Surprise.

“No physical signs of attack. No internal injuries,” Jonathan rattled off the death details. “Their hearts simply stopped.”

Marna shrugged. “Then maybe those men had heart attacks.”

Jonathan put his cup down on the table. “They were both in their prime, barely mid-thirties. Two guys like that, what? They just both magically had heart attacks? Is that what you want me to believe?”

“A lot of things magically happen in this city,” Marna murmured.

Tanner stalked around the table. Didn’t sit. Just crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the two-way mirror, and stared at her. She didn’t look nervous. No nervous twitches or gestures. Too calm. Too cool.

“Bullshit.” Jonathan leaned toward her. “A lot of things happen because there are just some twisted fucks on the streets.” He glanced down at the crime scene photos and then back at her. “I’ve seen kills like this before. It looks like nothing happened to them, but when we get the tox screen back, are we gonna see something different? Because I’m betting we will.”

Because Tanner didn’t want to interrogate Marna, he let the human keep going with his questions. Jonathan was blundering in the dark, so Tanner wasn’t particularly worried about him stumbling onto the truth.

Unless Marna decided to overshare. She’d better not.

“I’m betting that you took a needle and shoved it into those poor bastards.” Jonathan’s fingertips tapped on the photos. “You jammed them up with something, some drug, and killed them, and just because the ME can’t find the injection site yet doesn’t mean⁠—”

“It doesn’t mean that she won’t,” Tanner broke in, saying the words he knew he was supposed to say. He had to at least act like he was after Marna, for the sake of those uniforms and the Brass who were watching. “She’ll find the evidence, and it will be the final nail in your coffin, baby.”

A faint furrow appeared between Marna’s pale brows. Tanner’s hands fisted. Hell, had he just called her baby again? He’d have to watch that.

“There will be nowhere for you to go,” Tanner continued as he tried to force his body to relax. The beast inside wanted out. “Your face will be splashed across every paper in the area. Broadcast on every TV. People will find out just exactly what you are.” Because of those witnesses. The ones who’d already been too eager to share with reporters. For the right price, everyone would talk in this town.

Marna’s hands lifted and flattened on the table. Her head inclined toward the photos. Death hadn’t been kind to the shifters. No wounds were on their bodies, but their faces were frozen in masks of terror. “Those men...” Marna spoke slowly. “They deserved what they got.”

He really wanted to put his hand over her lush mouth.

Jonathan rocked forward, way too eager. “So you admit that you killed them?”

“I admit...” Her gaze lingered on the photos and then rose slowly. Not to look at Jonathan, but to lock on Tanner. “I admit that they were murdering bastards who enjoyed hurting other people. They were due some punishment.”

She was not helping the situation.

Jonathan nodded his head. “And you were just the one to punish them, weren’t you?”

Did her lips tremble? Her shoulders hunched. In that moment, she looked even more vulnerable than usual. What the hell? Was she playing some game with them?

Jonathan’s hand slapped on the table. “Weren’t you?”

She jumped. No game. Marna was afraid.

“Listen, you—” Jonathan began.

E-fucking-nough. Tanner’s hand closed around his new partner’s shoulder as he surged forward. “Ease up.” His hard grip said now.

Jonathan whirled to face him. Both of his brows were up. “Come again?”

Screw this. “We’re taking a break.” Because he wasn’t sure what would happen if Jonathan kept badgering Marna. A big reveal to the human about all the paranormal creatures running through the city wasn’t an option.

The legs of Jonathan’s chair groaned as he shoved away from the table. He stalked out of the room, not glancing back. Oh, yeah, he was pissed. Whatever.

Tanner leaned across the table. He only had an instant to make Marna understand the plan he’d just pulled out of his ass. “When I come back...” He barely breathed the words. “Come at me.”

She blinked.

“Come at me,” he told her again, “or that guy’s gonna try to lock you in a cage tonight.”

Then he turned and headed after Jonathan.

The interrogation room door had barely closed before his partner was in his face. “What the hell was that about?” Jonathan demanded, voice rising. “First off, I’m not your errand boy!”

Tanner waited, one brow rising. There’d be more coming. Any time somebody started with a “first” there was always⁠—

“And second, yeah, she’s fuckable, but don’t let your dick lead you to screw up this case! That woman in there⁠—”

A crash sounded from the interrogation room. Tanner stiffened. Showtime.

Jonathan tried to shove him out of the way so he could head back inside. Right. Like that was gonna happen. Tanner shoved back and the human went tumbling to the floor. Then Tanner threw open the door to that interrogation room.

Marna had tossed the table against the wall. The chairs lay scattered on the ground. She’d ripped one of the table legs out and driven it right through the two-way mirror.

Should have been impossible. Those mirrors weren’t made to shatter, but she’d managed to break through it.

Probably because Marna was using some of that amped-up angel strength of hers, and if he didn’t watch it, she’d be fleeing right out through that second room—now that she’d made herself a little escape path—and racing head-on into a bullpen full of cops.

“Marna!”

She spun back around with the table leg held up, club-like, in her clenched hands.

“Guess she’s stronger than she looks,” Jonathan said from behind him.

Couldn’t that man ever get off his back?

In the next instant, Marna charged at them. Proving that she was, indeed, much stronger than she appeared. Because Tanner knew he had to make this look good, he rolled to the ground when the table leg swiped out at him.

Her next hit connected with Jonathan, and the guy finally shut up because she knocked him all the way back into the wall.

But Jonathan had fast reflexes, for a human, and in the next instant, he had his gun out and aimed right at Marna.

“No!” Tanner bellowed as he lunged toward the other cop.

Too late.

Jonathan fired and the bullet slammed into Marna’s chest.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This wasn’t his plan. Not even damn close. Rage exploded within Tanner, and he drove his fist into Jonathan’s face. This time, when the cop went down, he was unconscious.

“Don’t ever hurt her again,” Tanner snarled, hands still fisted. His claws were coming out, and they were tearing into the flesh of his palms as he kept his hands fisted.

“T-Tanner?”

He stilled. She’d never said his name before. He’d wanted her to, but this way, with pain and fear darkening the word? Hell, no.

In an instant, he was by her side. The bullet wound wouldn’t kill her. It wouldn’t kill her. He had to keep repeating that mantra to himself because his hands were shaking as he lowered her to the floor.

Angels were tough. They could heal from just about anything.

But her blood was on his hands.

Marna pushed against him. “I-I can⁠—”

Tanner shook his head and forced her to the floor. Other cops were coming toward them. He could hear the rush of their pounding footsteps. This wasn’t his plan, but he could make it work. They had to make it work. “He shot you in the heart.”

Her eyes widened.

“That’s the story we’re telling.” Because if they played this scene right, he’d be able to save her angel ass. “And, baby, a shot to the heart will kill a human. It will put an end to the killer who took out those two men in the alley.”

Understanding filled her blue eyes.

He put his hands over her chest, the better to cover the wound and make it look like he was fighting to save her. “Get an ambulance!” Tanner yelled. “Our suspect is down!”

Then he brought his lips close to her ear. “You have to die, baby.” This was their perfect opportunity to get her free. Because if she wasn’t the killer, then someone very powerful was setting her up. Someone who wanted her face splashed all across the media.

Someone who’d taken her face to commit the murders. Another supernatural.

Marna gave the slightest of nods.

His breath expelled in a rush. Trust. It had to start somewhere. For both of them. Good thing that, unlike angels, shifters could lie. He’d spent most of his life lying.

He stared down at her. Behind him, Jonathan was groaning and trying to rise. He’d deal with that trigger-happy SOB later. For now…“She’s bleeding out!”

Other cops raced into the room, but they wouldn’t be able to help her. He’d make sure of that.

Slowly, her eyes began to fall closed and her breathing slowed. Damn, the woman was a pretty fine actress.

You have to die, baby.

It looked like she was going to do just that.