Falling for Faith Read online

  “I work alone.”

  “For now.” He chuckled as she darted out the door and back downstairs. She didn’t dare glance back.

  Back at the bar, Faith ordered another dry martini and tossed it back, trying desperately to quell her shaking nerves. The bartender flashed his eager smile at her again, and she relaxed back into her role, trying to forget the man with the silver eyes.

  He hadn’t been moved by her act of seduction except to mock her, throwing her knowledge of Sun Tzu back at her face. Honestly, she didn’t know anybody else who could quote The Art of War like she could. Not even Eli had known it that well. Any other time, she would have relished the verbal sparring with him.

  Well, maybe not him. Tall, dark, and seriously dangerous.

  “Back for more? Dry party, huh?”

  “Yeah, too dry. I think I’m going to ditch it.” She ordered a water, and watched as the eager smile faded from the bartender’s lips as he saw someone over her shoulder. She noticed the humming sensation again and decided it was time to get out of this house.

  “That would be a shame. We haven’t had the chance to get to know each other, yet.” The familiar husky murmur brushed against her ear at the same time a warm, smooth hand touched her lower back, an altogether alarming sensation. She jumped as she swiveled around to face him, looking deep into a set of silvery gray eyes. It must be the lighting. Nobody had silver eyes. She found herself staring into them, her snappy comeback gone.

  “Not tonight…” She murmured, still looking into those impossible eyes, which flickered to her lips as she spoke. She tamped the desire burning within her, the desire to rub against the hard planes of his tuxedo like a feral cat.

  “Another time then,” he answered with more than a hint of irritation before turning slightly away from her. His mouth returned to her ear though, sending a quaking shiver coursing up her spine. The humming in her ear got louder. “But you will be mine.” And then he disappeared, and the humming abruptly stopped, even more noticeable by its absence.

  He disappeared.

  One minute he was there, the next he was gone. Shaking her head, she turned back to the bartender.

  “Did you see that? That man…” He disappeared.

  The bartender shook his head at her. “See what?” The look of confusion on his face was evident. “Can I get you something to drink?” The flirtatious look was gone, and he was all business as if he hadn’t even just served her.

  She was so confused. What had just happened? “Yeah. A dry martini.”

  Chapter F our

  Michael followed the pull to a coffee shop in a run-down part of town. The contrast between the neighborhood he’d just been in and the neighborhood he was in now was startling -- to a mortal. Not to him. He knew firsthand what greed could accomplish.

  Greed and misplaced ideals, in addition to boredom, were the main causes of violence in Michael’s experience. As he seated himself in a corner booth at the coffee shop, invisible, he wondered which of those categories the woman fell into.

  Michael couldn’t contain his own anger at The Boss. He allowed the anger to build inside him as he sat there quietly watching his surroundings. Anger was the only emotion he’d ever really felt, that he could recognize. He knew that’s why He was doing all this falling shit. Because Michael had gotten too angry. Well, as far as Michael was concerned, it was His own damned fault. He created them, assigned them these roles, and expected them to not feel anything about it? Whatever.

  Michael knew they were being replaced, but His duplicity about the whole salvation of love bullshit was what pissed him off. Why couldn’t He just tell them they’d failed and move on, let them go? All this touchy-feely bullshit about feelings was just that. Bullshit.

  This woman. Sure, she was beautiful, but his stomach had sunk when he’d seen her profession. The Boss had paired him with a thief? Granted, she had her perks. She was fucking stunning. And the way she’d so brazenly walked upstairs to break into the safe with a houseful of people downstairs spoke to something in Michael, a fearlessness he liked. But a thief?

  Greed.

  Greed made Michael angrier than anything else. It was the epitome of misplaced ideals. He could almost understand fundamental religions, what with their texts and such that they based their entire philosophies on. For example, the Bible, written by mortals with an agenda, talking about false prophets and hellfire and brimstone, terrifying the huddled masses into subservience. Skewing the word of God into a political agenda.

  And when she’d gotten caught, her first instinct had been to try to seduce him. He had to admit to himself, the idea held some merit. He would have liked nothing more than to make her regret that decision. Nobody could use sex as a weapon like he could. He was a master at it. He chuckled, entertaining himself with his own choice of words. But his chuckle stilled in his throat at the rest of the memory.

  Her knowledge of Sun Tzu showed some intelligence he hadn’t been expecting. To be able to pull relevant quotes out of her brain showed a study of the topic, which meant he needed to watch out for her. She could be a snake. And Michael had some experience with snakes.

  His attention was arrested by the entrance of a slimy looking man wearing a cheaply made leather coat over a white tank top. His unruly red hair stuck out in all directions, and the dark circles under his sunken eyes spoke of a lifetime of impurities in his system.

  He barked an order to the waitress for coffee, his leg impatiently twitching under the table. Michael watched with interest as the man blew across the top of his mug before grimacing at the sip he took. That was when she walked in.

  She’d changed out of her evening attire into jeans and a hooded sweat shirt. Her hair framed her face in blond ringlets that made her look younger. Fresher. Her hair was damp as if she’d just come from a shower, and Michael saved the image that filtered into his conscious for later.

  The contrast of seeing the two of them sitting across from one another, one fresh young woman and one man, not too much older but obviously having lived a lifestyle much more demanding, made Michael listen in on their conversation closely.

  She idly waved away the waitress. “I won’t be long.”

  “Where is it?” The man asked after the waitress was out of earshot.

  “Did you send someone else in?”

  “Of course not. Did you get it?” Irritation laced the red-headed man’s voice.

  She shook her head, obvious disappointment on her features. “I was interrupted.”

  “By who?” the man demanded.

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. If you didn’t send someone else in…”

  “You’re off this job.”

  Panic set in, and Michael saw desperation not only in her features but her posture, too. She was leaning forward, almost touching the man with her hands. Michael felt a low rumble in his chest at the idea she might actually rub her skin on this creature. “No! This is the last job I have for you. Let me try again. I can get it, I promise. Let me just have another shot.” The pleading note in her voice contradicted everything Michael had previously thought about her. This guy had something on her. He had to. Was he blackmailing her for something? What? The rumble in his chest turned into a perceptible growl, and he saw Faith’s eyes search the corner he was sitting in.

  “I can let you off without the job, you know.” The timbre of the man’s voice dropped, and Michael knew instinctively what he was implying. Silently, he stood. He marched closer, still invisible, to get his hands on the asshole who thought of her that way.

  Apparently, she understood what he was getting at because she stiffened. “No. I’ll get the necklace. Just give me another week. I’ll do it the old-fashioned way.”

  “Offer stands.”

  Michael watched her shudder, but the man didn’t notice… or didn’t care. She slid out of the booth with a whispered, “I’ll call when I get it.”

  “You do that.” The slime-ball sneered as he ogled her behind as she walked away.
>
  Michael watched as she strode out of the diner, head held high, as if she hadn’t just been discussing illegal activities. He walked over and dumped the man’s cup of coffee into his lap. He knew it was juvenile, but it gave him an absurd satisfaction nonetheless. He watched the man jump to his feet, spluttering curses, looking around to see no one. Because Michael wasn’t there anymore.

  The tug told him to follow her, to try again. He really wanted to get this whole unpleasant affair over with, do whatever it was The Boss had in store for him. It wouldn’t be pleasant, and the tug got more intense the further away she walked. But he ignored it. Embracing his anger as easily as he ignored the pull, he watched her turn one way, and then he walked in the opposite direction.

  Chapter Five

  Faith spent the next two days in a fugue of rage. She knew she couldn’t do the job like this. She needed to get her emotions under control, but she’d lost control when she’d been caught by Shamus six months ago, and he’d blackmailed her into working for him or else he would go to the police.

  She hated to be indebted to someone, and while she didn’t owe Shamus, she knew he would make good on his threats. He had pictures of her breaking in and stealing the diamond jewelry from the other house in Hideaway Village months ago. He could easily send them to the cops. But he’d made her work for him, do ten jobs, splitting the money, and then he would give her the photos. She’d kept her end of the bargain and could only hope he would do the same.

  Now this other guy had caught her. Jesus. She’d been doing this for years, and now she’d been caught twice in six months. She must be slipping.

  But what did this new guy want from her?

  She couldn’t sleep. Every time she’d closed her eyes, piercing silver eyes had burst through her conscious, waking her with their clarity. And it pissed her off. As it was, she was consumed by him during her waking hours, the way his tux clung to his broad shoulders and hung from slim hips, his dark spikey hair, that spot of hair under his pouty lips, like he’d missed a spot shaving, and those fucking eyes.

  The dimple that showed up when he smirked at her, his hot breath on her ear, the way his voice rumbled through her body…

  His familiarity with her was disconcerting. He acted as if she should know him, and she didn’t. She’d never seen him before in her life, of that she was sure. And his parting words vibrated in her head at the oddest times…

  You will be mine…

  Right before he fucking disappeared. She’d watched him shimmer into oblivion, and nobody else seemed to notice.

  Who was he?

  Maybe she had imagined him. Imagined the humming. The sensations that raked her skin at the sound of his voice, his nearness. Shamus hadn’t sent him. The bartender hadn’t seen him even though he was clearly there. For a bit, anyway.

  She contemplated the question one last time before firmly putting it out of her head to get ready for her night.

  Dressed in black, hair pulled up under a black toboggan, she lithely scaled the fence and slinked to the house, avoiding motion sensors. Mumbling the words rich and stupid to herself, she climbed the lattice work under the bedroom window, preparing to clip alarm wires and climb into the room silently. But when she got to the window, she found it open, two dark lumps lying side by side on the king-sized bed.

  She slipped over the window sill, and as soon as she was in the room, her gaze fell on the chair where he’d been.

  She wouldn’t have been surprised to see him sitting there again, looking at her with that smirk on his face, the amused twinkle in those ridiculously silver eyes. Faith was shocked to find the seat occupied, and at first, she thought it was him. But she was wrong.

  Another man was there. Faith froze, her heart in her throat. What the fuck? The scent of burning sulfur invaded her nostrils, like a gun had just been fired in the room, but she didn’t see any smoke in the air or blood anywhere.

  Her eyes darted back to the bed to see the owners of the house still sleeping, then to the man sitting in the chair.

  The lighting in the room was strange. It was night, and the lights were off, but moonlight shone into the windows, creating a muted ambiance. Around the man in the chair, the air was shadowy, but she could tell enough about him to know it was a different man. This one was darker, darker skinned, Mediterranean maybe, wavy dark hair that was longer than the other man, not spikey. Dark eyes that glittered in the darkness. It was almost as if the air around him was darker. Like she could see his aura. And it wasn’t pretty.

  Faith remained crouched silently on the floor in front of the window, trying to figure out what to do next. She could easily overpower the man as long as he wasn’t trained really well, but she couldn’t do it silently. They would wake the occupants with their struggle. But she needed that necklace. She had to be done with Shamus.

  And she couldn’t come back. She was superstitious enough to know the third time she came back would be the time she’d get caught. For good.

  “I have what you want,” the man spoke in a conversational tone as if they’d met purposely for tea. The dark air surrounding him seemed to spread, and as much as Faith pressed back against the wall, she couldn’t escape it. It surrounded her, oppressive, along with the smell.

  “And I’ll give it to you.” He held up his hand, the necklace she’d been after dangling from outstretched fingers, seeming to shine in the moonlight. “I’ve taken care of everything.” She listened to his words through a fog, hearing them but not understanding. “You just need to be ready.”

  She found her voice. “Ready for what?” She whispered. He may not care if he woke the owners of the house, but she didn’t want to go to jail.

  “Me.” He tossed her the necklace and she caught it with one gloved hand. Then, as if he was the same being the other man was, he disappeared in a shimmering haze, an evil cackle dancing on the dark air.

  Faith slipped the necklace into her bra and left the way she’d come. Only she slipped on her way down and fell. Fuck. How many times could she screw up one job? She managed not to scream, but a strangled cry escaped her anyway when she landed.

  In a pair of arms.

  “Appear when unexpected.” His low rumbly voice sent a shudder of dread coursing through Faith’s body. Great. More Sun Tzu.

  Chapter S ix

  Michael heard the conversation, smelled the Deceiver, and before he could get up there to her, the deal had been struck, and she clambered out the window.

  Shit.

  He’d felt the pull, stronger than before, back to this house. He couldn’t ignore it, and now he was here and saw why. The little bitch had just made a deal with the fucking Devil. He had to get her out of here.

  When she fell, he caught her easily and held her squirming body against his as he fled the property before they were discovered. Flopping her over his shoulder with no more than a muffled “umph” from her, he strode towards her apartment.

  “Let me down, asshole.” Her hoarse whisper tangled in his gut.

  “Will you walk?” He asked her through gritted teeth.

  “And lead you back to my home? Doubtful.” Her response was what he would have expected.

  “I already know where you live, Sweetheart.” He tightened his grip on her sweet little rear, ready for her to explode.

  Her body stiffened instead. “How?”

  He shrugged, not an easy feat with a woman tossed over one of them, no matter how super-human he was at times. “Just do.”

  “Put me down.” Her voice was soft, but laced with fury.

  “Not on your life.”

  Ineffectual fists pounded on his back, and he flexed under the onslaught.

  “Feels good… A little to the left, if you don’t mind.” They’d made it out of the neighborhood and to where he’d left his bike. With one hand he opened the storage under the seat and lifted out a coil of rope. “Will you hang on or do I need this?”

  “Oh, hell, no.” She squirmed in his grip, and when he let her slide d
own his body, she fought. Hard.

  Her fist connected with his chin, then her left hand came around towards his neck. He caught her wrist in his fist, pulling her against him.

  “I’m not your enemy here.”

  “Like hell you’re not.” Her knee hit his groin, to no effect and surprise marred her features. Michael chuckled, sure that usually worked for her. On men who could feel pain. But the slight pressure in his balls was nothing compared to the strange fire in his belly that sparked to life when he looked into her crystalline blue gaze, wide with shock.

  Easily grabbing her other hand, he tied the two together, leaving a length of rope for him to hold on to on the ride. Straddling the bike, he gestured for her to climb on, which she did, but her expression told him she thought if she didn’t get on he’d drag her home. As soon as her body was safely behind him, he turned the key and the engine roared to life.

  When he pulled up in front of her apartment, he tugged on the rope binding her hands together. He had to admit, this situation on her suited him. If all went the way He said it would, there would be plenty more opportunities. Michael just needed to get her on the same page.

  He strode to her apartment door and waited, tapping his foot while she struggled to get her key out of her pocket, her eyes flashing fire at him the entire time. When they were finally both inside, she turned on him.

  Holding her hands to her chest, she wheeled around in a round-house kick that connected squarely with his jaw before jumping in the air and kicking him in the center of his chest. The sheer force of the kicks knocked him back against the wall, and he managed a wry smile. Something surged in his chest at her sudden show of fierce determination and attempt at domination. It would have worked on a mortal, and Michael felt something akin to awe.

  “Nice moves.” Advancing on her, he grabbed the rope, pulling her closer. “I haven’t seen speed like that in a while, Sweetheart.”