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  Falling for Faith

  Book #4 in the Four Winds Series

  Anne Conley

  Copyright 2014

  Published by Anne Conley.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover design by Vanessa Booke, copyright 2014.

  Edited by Nicole Stachowicz Powers.

  I would like to thank my husband, whose ramblings led me to the idea for this series of books. Also, many thanks to Sarah and Mary Lou (The Page Princess), who gave me honest feedback, which helped the story improve. Also, thanks to my dedicated readers, who keep me going during times when I don’t particularly feel like it.

  Other books by Anne:

  The Four Winds:

  Falling for Heaven

  Falling for Grace

  Falling for Hope

  The Stories of Serendipity:

  Neighborly Complications

  Chef’s Delight

  Dream On

  Hot Mess

  Falling for Him

  Gambling on Love

  My Mistake

  Wrecked

  Chapter One:

  Michael relished stillness. It was rare these days, the utter peace and quiet that came with complete stillness. As the wind ruffled his hair, he felt his body, his heart beating, his lungs expanding, his cells dividing, his blood flowing. The things humans took for granted. Eyes closed, Michael breathed deeply, filling his lungs with precious oxygen. Of course, the air was laced with pollutants the humans had poisoned it with. The resentments he felt for the humans compounded themselves as he inhaled the acrid air. They weren’t capable of enjoying peace and solitude like this.

  If they could just be happy with what they had in front of them, Michael’s existence wouldn’t even be necessary. And he was tired of his existence. So very, very tired.

  He breathed in again and held his breath, feeling his muscles stretch and fill with the oxygen molecules from the air. He knew why he was here, and he dreaded meeting with his brothers. They would all be so exultant, so cheery about all this. Michael was just looking forward to one thing: mortality, finally.

  Blissful, mindless mortality.

  It must be the smell of the crap motel room he was in. The stale cigarette smoke, the cheap cleaning products, the burned out motor of the vacuum cleaner, the detergent on the sheets, the lack of washing the bedspreads. He shook his head, trying in vain to clear his mind of the filth of humanity. He didn’t want to do this assignment, but when he was finished, he’d finally be free. There was always a bright side.

  As one, his brothers entered his motel room. Having lost their deity-ness, they seemed different, more alive, less dreamlike. They looked… real. And happy. Michael’s brothers actually looked genuinely exultant. He rolled his eyes.

  They must have met up together. Rafe’s timing wasn’t this good. He quirked an eyebrow at them but didn’t speak. The meeting hadn’t been his idea.

  “Hey, man. How’s it going?” Rafael asked him, smiling broadly. Dumbass was always smiling.

  Michael nodded at him. “You all wanted to meet. Here we are. Talk.” He was anxious to get this over with. Whatever they thought they were going to tell him, he wasn’t really interested. He knew enough about his assignment to know that it was unavoidable.

  Uriel was the first to speak. “You don’t like the idea, and I don’t blame you. But just give it a chance. I didn’t ever realize what joy is until this, and it’s like… nothing else ever. I just feel so alive.”

  “Right. Next?” They were all going to give him the pros of this shit. The quicker they were done, the faster he could get on with things.

  “He’s right.” Rafael went next. “You won’t regret it, man. Not at all. Everything’s better. I swear to The Boss.” His face held a grin that cracked it open. If Michael’s mood wasn’t so sour, he might have returned it. But not today. Today, he was resentful as hell.

  “It’s not because we’ve underperformed or anything.” Of course, that’s what Gabe would worry about. Michael couldn’t stop the smirk from crossing his lips at the words. “He’s wanting fresh blood so to speak. We’re retiring. It’s like a favor.”

  Finally, Michael stood. “What you guys don’t seem to realize, whether it’s because you’re too naïve or too stupid, is He’s doing this for some ulterior motive. He never does things just because. He’s got a bigger plan, bigger than all of us, and we’re not supposed to understand it.” He growled low in his throat, tired of being a pawn to some higher power’s machinations. “The sooner you all realize that, the better off you’ll be.”

  Rafe spread his hands in supplication. “Hey, man, just let it go. Don’t fight this. It’s free will. The choice.” A guttural scoff rose in Michael’s throat.

  Uriel joined in, “It’s inevitable, Michael. Even Damien knows it. You saw him with Gabriel. He wants what The Boss is giving. Just let it happen.”

  Anger pulsed through Michael’s veins. “Like I have a fucking choice.”

  Gabe smiled at him, and Michael contained his shock, barely. Gabriel never smiled. “You got that right, brother. You have the choice, but you won’t be able to resist her. He’ll guarantee that. So you might as well enjoy it. Wait until you can taste things…” Gabe’s eyes drifted off into some memory or other before snapping back to Michael. “But human women are… different. You’ll have to readjust your way of thinking to understand what’s going on with them.”

  Rafael jumped into the conversation. “Yeah, you have to have endless amounts of patience, man. Something I know you have,” the asshole smirked at him. Michael rolled his eyes, but he continued. “Speaking of Damien, watch out for him. The Deceiver’s escalating. You’re the last one. There’s no telling what he’ll do.”

  Michael’s hackles rose at the thought of the Deceiver trying to get anything belonging to him. His fists clenched of their own volition. It didn’t matter who she was, she would be his, and the Deceiver wouldn’t get near her. He would fucking make sure of that.

  “Are we done?”

  “Unless you want to go for pizza?” Uriel’s eyes looked hopeful, and the emotion on Uri’s face looked foreign to Michael. They didn’t have emotions. Well, they didn’t used to have emotions. Great. Something else to look forward to.

  “I could go for pizza,” Rafe chimed in.

  “Yeah, me too,” said Gabe.

  “Get the fuck out of here.” Michael shooed his brothers out of his room, desperate to find the stillness they’d chased away with their presence. He bowed his head in supplication.

  Father, what are you doing to us?

  Chapter Two:

  The urge was strong, and Michael knew with certainty this was it. Taking a deep breath, he walked to his closet in the smelly motel room and pulled on the accordion doors to find a tux wrapped in plastic, waiting for him with no explanation. He knew now all he had to do was follow the pull.

  Without question he donned the attire, feeling in the pockets for a direction. Creamy, thick stationary spelled out his assignment in as many terms as he was likely to get.

  A fundraising party.

  Michael heaved a heavy sigh and felt tendrils of dread in his heart. He’d noticed odd things lately. This dread was one of them. Deep down he knew that was the reason behind all The Boss’s machinations. His creations had started with the feeling business. It was
time to cut them loose and start from scratch. Humanity had rubbed off on them. It was inevitable.

  The tux fit perfectly as Michael knew it would, hanging on his broad frame crisply. He didn’t like the idea of this assignment, but as always, he felt the undeniable pull to complete it. It didn’t really matter if he enjoyed his assignments or if they even made sense to him. He had a job to do, and he would do it. It’s what he was created for.

  The party was a decadent affair held in a private home in the nicest part of town, where country settings were situated in the city to affect a false sense of serenity only money could buy. The houses were large, well-lit, and reeked of money. Michael tried not to roll his eyes as the thought that the cost of one of these houses could easily bankroll whatever charitable organization the fundraiser was being held for.

  He strode up the steps, presenting his invitation to the man at the door with a scowl before entering the home. Opulence greeted him in the form of original art work, rare antiques, and people wearing designer clothing and mingling stiffly with cocktails and appetizers. The scowl on Michael’s face deepened. A jazz quartet played soft standards in the corner, and Michael let the sounds of the quiet music wash over him, in an attempt at calm. This sort of display of wealth bothered him, but he never really understood why.

  Standing with his back to a corner, Michael took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and sipped on it absently, while he scoped out the room, looking for his target. Waiting for the pull to tell him he could get this over with.

  He watched the crowd as they mingled, touching each other flirtatiously. The human dynamics were transparent. He could see networking, business deals, and affairs, all in the intentions of the touches. One woman with her suitably stuffy date was practically purring at his business associate, one arm in her date’s, the other draped languorously over her prospective bed-partner.

  Another man looked greedily around the room, his eyes roaming the crowd with an eagle eye, as he watched for his next business conquest.

  A humming in his ears distracted him from watching more. The telltale sound meant his target was near. He cast his eyes around until he found her.

  A tall, elegant woman wearing a simple black gown that brushed the tops of her feet was at the bar ordering a drink. He could see her toes peeking out from inside the slit of her dress, painted a blood red. Nice shoes. Black, high heeled strappy things that would look stunning sitting on his shoulders. As his eyes rose, he saw a slim figure, ample breasts, broad shoulders, and when she turned, the expanse of skin on her back interrupted by straps crisscrossing across the pale creamy flesh, before the dress dipped low, almost to her stunning rear. Her dress was tasteful, yet alluring, especially with over the elbow black satin gloves, and Michael felt the pull in his gut as the hum in his ears got louder the longer he looked at her.

  At least she wasn’t ugly.

  Michael glanced around the room quickly to make sure he wasn’t being watched and masked his presence in invisibility, determined to get this over with.

  As he picked his way through the crowd, careful not to bump people in his attempt to get closer, he saw her flash a smile to the bartender before tossing her drink to the back of her throat. He stilled.

  Her smile was dazzling. Large, luscious lips emphasized by lipstick that matched her toes. Sparkling blue eyes, a long, slightly crooked nose, and a smattering of freckles he could see under her make-up. Her light blond hair was pulled back in a chignon with only a few tendrils artfully escaping.

  Okay, she was stunning.

  He continued his trek to get closer right about the time she left the bar, tossing furtive glances around the room. He saw her try to make herself less visible, as if that were possible, before ducking down a hallway. Michael followed, intending to intercept her on her way to the restroom and get her out of here.

  She stopped at the door of the restroom and didn’t knock. She just threw a backwards glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being watched and continued to the stairs at the end of the hallway.

  Well now, this is interesting…

  Chapter T hree

  Faith climbed the steps to the second floor with the distinct feeling she was being watched. Every time she looked over her shoulder, though, there was no one there. She tried to shrug off the persistent feeling but eventually chalked it up to nerves. The only way she’d be rid of Shamus was if she finished this last job. She could do this.

  A faint humming noise accompanied her walk, and if it hadn’t been vibrating through her tummy, she would have attributed it to the heating system or something. But it persisted, seeming almost internal.

  Once she made it to the bedroom, she located the wall safe behind the contemporary western art piece, where Shamus had told her it would be. This house was dripping with art, and the bedroom was no exception. Decorated in rich tones, it had a western motif, and the cowboy painting she was currently removing was probably more expensive than two years’ worth of rent.

  Hiking up her skirt, she removed the tools she had strapped to the inside of her thighs before going to work dismantling the safe. It wasn’t hard to do. Expensive didn’t necessarily mean sturdy in her experience. She didn’t use a stethoscope to listen to the tumblers click into place. She used a drill to remove the crucial faceplate before using her electronic reader to break the digital combination. Easy.

  And she was in.

  She shook her head to clear the humming, wondering exactly what was causing it, while she worked, sifting through documents, money and jewels to find what she needed.

  “Ballsy… breaking in with a house full of people.” The quiet voice behind her had her heart pounding before he’d even finished speaking. Spinning on her heel, she turned to find an exquisite man lounging on the chair in the middle of the room, watching her with interest, if not amusement. Something else shone in the depths of his eyes, though. Anger?

  It wasn’t the owner of the house. Mr. Howard was older. She’d met him when she’d arrived. Maybe Shamus had someone checking up on her? He’d said he had an inside source on this job.

  “It’s actually easier this way,” she whispered. He’d caught her in the act, there was no use denying it. And his relaxed posture, legs casually crossed, leaning back, stroking his chin, told her he wasn’t in a hurry to turn her in. Did he want a cut?

  Nope. She wasn’t going to let him screw this up. This was her last job for Shamus, and she’d be damned if she’d let herself get caught now. Security. He had to be on security detail here, and she must have done something to give herself away. He had followed her. She wasn’t sure how, but he had. And now she was busted.

  “Who are you?”

  He didn’t answer her, which was irritating, but she wasn’t exactly in a position to force the issue. As tall and fit as she was, she could see he was taller and fitter, even from his seated position. She didn’t need a scene here tonight. Maybe a distraction would work.

  Licking her lips, Faith eased her hip to the side, revealing a leg. She watched the man’s eyes snap to her shoes then reached behind her head for the clip holding her chignon in place, releasing it. Her hair fell in waves to just below her shoulders, and Faith swung it around, fluffing it with her hands. The man stood.

  “What are you doing?” His voice was rough, scraping across her skin to leave delicious abrasions behind. No longer pretending, her breaths came in raspy gasps.

  “Subduing the enemy without fighting.” Faith spoke to herself more than the man, but he seemed to hear anyway. She always turned to Sun Tzu when she was in danger. Eli had ingrained it in her. Sun Tzu knew everything.

  He moved closer, gliding, with the grace of a predator, and Faith saw she was in some serious trouble.

  His sensuous mouth quirked into a smirk. “Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.” Laughter filled his voice, and she saw amusement twinkle in his eyes, crinkling around the edges.

  Shit. He
knew Sun Tzu too. Undeterred, she continued, using her sexuality as a tool. She pursed her lips and forced a breathy quality to her voice. “To avoid what is strong, strike at what is weak.” His silver eyes penetrated into her, looking deep inside her. She felt naked under his gaze as it traveled across her face. She was so intent on those eyes that she didn’t realize his hands had moved.

  A knuckle grazed her cleavage, and she lost her breath. She inhaled deeply, trying to get much needed oxygen into her system, but it only served to raise her breasts higher, into his touch. It burned. The humming in her body was louder than ever as if it was connected to this man’s presence. She could feel it in her bones, her cells.

  The man’s perfect face lowered closer to hers until their mouths aligned but didn’t touch. She could feel his warm breath on her lips as they moved. “The expert in the battle moves the enemy and is not moved by him.”

  He hadn’t moved to subdue her, but neither had she. Faith was paralyzed by a sudden lust coursing through her veins. With all of her being, she wanted to grab this man and smash her lips into his, feel that little scrub of hair on his chin against hers.

  With every ounce of will she had, Faith turned away from him, back towards the safe in the wall. She could only hope to get out of here without police involvement at this point. “The wise warrior avoids the battle.” She heard rustling behind her, and when he spoke next, she realized he’d moved back to the chair.

  “I can see it.” He spoke as if to himself, murmuring so quietly she almost didn’t hear. “We’d make a decent match. You’re almost as irreverent as I am. And you know your Tzu.”

  Without a word she slipped her hand back under her skirt again and retrieved her multipurpose tool. She’d have to come back, but she wasn’t going to let this asshole get what was hers. Doing her best to replace the faceplate in a hurry, she left the wall safe a ridiculous mess, not having taken anything from it. Super. She could hear him muttering behind her about thieves and Jezebels and tamped down the flash of irritation that flared to life.