Releasing the Hunter

Chapter 8

After rushing around town shopping and doing damage control on Ivy’s safe house—it had been burned down to the ground and they couldn’t get to the safe in the backyard—Ronan and Ivy checked into the San Francisco Marriott Marquis.

The pretty hotel clerk handed Ronan back his credit card. “Thank you, Mr. Ennis, we have you checked into one of our executive suites for one night.”

Ivy rolled her eyes at him as he grinned at the clerk. “Thank you, Holly.”

“My pleasure.” Holly batted her eyes at him. “Do you need help with your bags?”

“No, thank you. My wife likes to handle that.” Leaning on the counter, he smiled at Ivy. “Don’t you, darling?”

It took all she had not to bop Ronan in the mouth. Instead she gave him a tight smile and rolled both bags. Without waiting for him, she started for the bank of elevators.

She couldn’t believe she let him talk her into posing as a couple, but it made sense and would help them keep a low profile until they found Sallos and trapped him so they could interrogate him. She’d even agreed to tone down her usual harsh exterior.

When they went shopping she bought a pantsuit in cream and three-inch heels in gold. She was wearing the outfit now and it wasn’t as uncomfortable as she’d first thought it would be. The silky material of the trousers actually felt nice on her skin, luxurious even. And the heels, well she kind of liked them. Made her legs feel more powerful. They did amazing things to her calf muscles. She also bought a cocktail dress for later at Ronan’s encouraging. They were going to be going up to The View Lounge tonight on reconnaissance.

Ronan caught up to her at the elevators just as one chimed and its doors opened. Some people streamed out, and Ivy and Ronan went in alone. Ronan pressed the button for the fifteenth floor.

“Do you really have to flirt with every woman we come across?” She’d meant to joke with him, but even she could hear the slight bitterness in her voice. She coughed into her hand afterward to cover it, but by the glint in Ronan’s eye he’d heard it loud and clear.

“Are you jealous?”

She snorted. “Not likely. It’s just bothersome, especially since we should be playing it under the wire. Do we really want people to notice us?”

“It never hurts to be charming to people. When the shit hits the fan and bad stuff happens, do you really think that pretty young thing at the counter is going to tell the cops about the seductively attractive man she flirted with at the counter? Or would she be more inclined to mention the quiet shifty-eyed steely couple that checked in mere hours before everything went down?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Just because I can see your point doesn’t mean you are right.”

“Yeah, it does.”

The doors opened; Ronan grabbed his bag and walked out. Ivy followed him. They walked in silence down to their room. Thankfully, they didn’t run into anyone who would force them to play the happy married couple.

Ronan slid the key card into the lock, the little green light blinked on and he opened the door for her. She went in, pulling her black compact luggage behind her.

The room was big and elegant. It looked like how she would have imagined an executive suite. Clean, angled, everything in its place, with gold pillows on the modest sofa and a dark wooden desk along one wall. But it was a really nice room and she smiled.

It wasn’t every day that she got to stay in a decent hotel. Most of the time, she stayed in run-down dirt-bag motels along long lonely highways. So although she was on the job and had to work with Ronan, she was going to enjoy this small luxury just for a little while.

She nodded at Ronan. “Nice room.”

He rolled his luggage into the open bedroom area, setting it beside the king-size bed. He sat on the edge and bounced on the mattress. “Nice and firm.” He gave her a wide cheesy grin.

“You’re sleeping on this here sofa.”

“The hell I am.” He stood and walked over to her. “We’ll flip for the bed.” He dug into his pants pocket and came away with a quarter. “Heads I get the bed, tails you do.” He flipped it off his thumb, caught it in his palm and slapped it on the back of his other hand. He showed the coin.

It was heads.

“I win.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t agree to play.” Giving him her back, she wandered into the huge bathroom. There was a jetted tub. She smiled and ran a finger along the porcelain. God, she’d love a long hot soak in the tub.

“We should probably go over the plan,” Ronan said from the other room.

With a heavy sigh, Ivy returned to the living room and sat on the sofa. “Where do you want to start?”

After an hour, they had hammered out a reasonable strategy. It was a decent one considering their circumstances. Ronan had smarts. She liked how he thought. He was almost as diabolical as she was. Almost.

Afterwards, she changed clothes into something unassuming—jeans, T-shirt, runners and a ball cap—and told Ronan she was going to get a lay of the hotel and figure out their exit strategy if everything went wrong. Which, considering the circumstances, was an acute possibility.

She scoped out the lobby and the main restaurant. She also took an elevator ride up to the thirty-ninth floor to check out The View Lounge. There weren’t too many people at the bar or at the tables near the floor-to-ceiling windows. But she suspected that would change in a few hours. The concierge in the lobby told her it was usually packed by ten.

She did a quick scan of the place, took in the security detail at the door, where the main bar was situated, where the exit was and how the long the bank of windows stretched along the lounge. Even from where she stood, the view of the city below was spectacular. She looked over the particular clientele already seated and drinking and knew that Sallos wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of finding his next victim here. Most of his past victims had been young women known to drink and party, so hitting an upscale place like this with older, wealthier women would be something the demon would just have to sample.

Once she was satisfied with her reconnaissance, Ivy returned to the hotel room. When she entered, Ronan was sitting on the sofa, sharpening one of his many blades. The scene brought back memories of hunting with her brother Quinn and all the times they’d shared this together. The prehunting stage. Gearing up for the big one. A time they both knew could be their last.

Pushing thoughts of her brother from her mind, she came in, took off her cap, tossed it on the table and ran a hand through her hair. “There are two exits from the lounge. One to the elevators and another to the stairwell. And there appears to be one security guard near the front entrance.”

“We could position weapons at various points on different floors,” he replied. “In the event of trouble, we can subdue the guard, then take the stairs. You exit out on the thirtieth floor and I could come out on the twentieth. We rendezvous down at street level by the truck.”

She nodded. “Sounds good. Smart.”

“Yeah, who knew I was good-looking and intelligent?”

She shook her head but ended up smiling. He had an infectious way about him. He was either making her angry or making her laugh. Both stirred up unwanted feelings.

There was a knock on the door.

Ivy swung around toward it, hands up, ready to fight.

Ronan stood. “I ordered room service. I thought we both could eat something substantial.” He opened the door. The attendant wheeled in a tray of steaming hot food. He nodded to Ivy and Ronan, then left after Ronan tipped him ten bucks.

Ivy lifted up the lids on the plates. The incredible smell of steak and potatoes wafted to her nose. She smiled.

“After watching you scarf down that burger and fries the other night, I thought maybe you could use a nice thick juicy steak.”

“You thought right.” She reached down and plucked a piece of steamed broccoli from the plate.

“I also drew you a bath.” He took the lid off the other plate and leaned down to inhale the rich delectable smells.

“You did what?”

“Drew you a bath. I found some bath salts, as well. I put them in.” He shrugged. “Smells good.”

She pushed open the bathroom door and walked in. The scent of vanilla came to her nose on a puff of steam and she smiled. She glanced over her shoulder at Ronan, who was watching her.

“The water’s still hot.”

He wriggled his fingers. “One of the many tricks I inherited with the demon blood.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. It was suddenly feeling dry from emotions that had no business showing up. “Why did you do this?”

“I thought you needed it. Thought you’d like it.”

She studied him for a few more seconds then said, “Thanks.” She nodded to the food tray. “Don’t eat my steak.”

“I won’t.” His lips lifted into a smile.

She went into the bathroom, closed the door and leaned against it. The cambion was turning out to be far more complicated than she’d first thought, and she was sure that was going to become a huge problem in the future.

She stripped off her clothes, and with a contented sigh she slipped down into the deep-jetted tub. The water was still deliciously hot and silky from the bath salts, it slicked her skin. Twisting a knob she kicked in the jets, then rested her head on the back of the tub and closed her eyes.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had indulged like this, maybe never. Growing up had been tough and meager as she’d moved around with her dad and brother, chasing monsters around the country. She’d never had a manicure or a pedicure. She knew how to dress like a lady and act like one, something she’d learned from magazines and TV, but she’d never ever felt like one. Until this very second.

She wondered how Ronan knew this had been what she’d needed and wanted. Sometimes she questioned whether he could read her mind. Maybe the demon blood in his veins gave him certain abilities. Reading her might very well be one. God, she hoped not. It could get embarrassing for her if he could.

Or it could’ve been the man inside him. An instinct that drove a man to want to pamper a woman, to shield her, to protect her, to love her....

Her eyes flashed open at that. Licking her lips, she realized how tight her throat was. She sighed, then laid her head back again. She had better keep her thoughts straight. On the plan. On the mission. And not on the man with the hard face and soft heart sitting on the sofa in the other room.