Page 24 of Blaze

“What?” Kennedy’s head is jerking as her gaze jumps to each of us before looking back at the image, her brow furrowed. “Who is it? I’ve never seen him.”

It’s Stubs who answers, spinning around on his chair with ice in his eyes. “A goddamned Light Justicar. And the Santi Pastori are working with him.” He looks at Reaper, whose jaw is granite. “We’ve got bigger problems than a mafia wanting a woman back. Big problems.”

9

KENNEDY

If I weren’t already ramrod straight, everyone’s response would have me straightening. As it is, I’m swinging my gaze between faces before landing on Blaze.

“What’s a Light Justicar?” I ask, confused. It sounds medieval. I frown. “Like the Knights Templar?”

Brute, the massive biker across from me, gives a derisive snort. “They don’t have enough honor to be a Knights Templar. The Light Justicars are why King Philip ordered the mass execution of the Knights Templar.”

There’s an ancient anger in his voice, his cobalt eyes dull as if lost in a memory.

“The Light Justicars are considered a holy order in this realm,” the demon—Stubs, I belatedly remember—begins as he levers up off the leather computer chair. He walks towards the head of the table with a strange gait. Curiosity burns at me, but I’m not rude enough to ask. “They were formed when our kind came to this realm seeking refuge from the celestial wars. The beings you call angels followed us—” more growls rumble around me “—determined to eradicate our kind.”

“Fucking bastards,” Bones mutters, glaring at the table as he rolls something between his fingers. I’ve seen one of Enzo’s men doing the same thing with a coin. I swallow back my surprise when I realize Bones is doing it with a... well, a bone. “It wasn’t enough to invade and drain our territories of power. They want every one of those who refuse to kneel dead.”

“Regardless,” Reaper says before the anger brewing in the room can overflow. He braces both of his palms on the table in front of him, looking at me and Blaze. “Your husband is the leader of the Santi Pastori family, and Stubs has found a long-standing connection to the Light Justicars. Certain members of the order have been granted healing abilities, and we can surmise that that is why your husband still lives.”

A large hand lands on my thigh, squeezing gently. Blaze doesn’t look at me, even as I slide both of my hands under the table to grip his.

“So what does that mean for Kennedy?” Blaze asks. “If these fuckers are involved, we can’t just set her up with a new identity in another part of the country.”

Reaper looks as grim as his name and dread builds inside me. They already know I’m here, and if it weren’t for Blaze, I’d already be on my way back to Enzo… or dead.

I shake my head. “I can’t go back to him,” I blurt, my heart racing. Sweat beads on the back of my neck, and I’m pretty sure my nails are gouging Blaze’s hand. “I won’t. I’d rather die—I mean it. You don’t know what Enzo will do to me.”

I’ve seen what Enzo does to those who cross him, and I know death would be merciful compared to what he’d do to me.

“He’s not fucking touching you.” Blaze’s fierce proclamation slices through my building panic, sweeping it away and only leaving his resolute certainty. His eyes are hot, making me think of the flames I’d seen in them last night. Blaze turns his gaze to Reaper, his jaw tight. “Right?”

Reaper gives a harsh nod.

I collapse against the back of the chair in relief.

“We aren’t in the habit of handing over innocent people to criminals,” he says. The involvement of the Justicars complicates things and increases the risk, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

Reaper looks over at Chainz. “Did you find out anything about the car?”

Right. There was a reward for the return of the car, too. I’d forgotten completely about it.

Chainz grunts, leaning the chair back as he props a booted ankle over the opposite knee. He stretches his arms up, his leather vest opening and revealing an old metal-band tee before he laces his hands behind his head.

“Sure did, prez,” he says with a lazy drawl. He inclines his head towards me. “Seems like Mrs. Kennedy Pastori here made off with Michael Donaldson’s payment. The floor of the trunk was hollowed out and filled with containers of Rapture. The drug fetches a pretty penny this far away from the Barrows.”

I’m vaguely familiar with Rapture, a party drug that is rumored to give normal humans a taste of what it’s like to be magical. I’ve only ever heard about it from those who had traveled to a city called the Barrows, supposedly run by a bloodthirsty, vicious vampire.

“Did you call it into the Nightshades?” Reaper asks, concerned. “As far as I know, they haven’t expanded distribution beyond the city.”

“Cataloged it all with photos and sent them to Stubs,” Chainz answers, letting his chair fall flat to the floor and crossing his arms on the table. “If Donaldson got it through legit avenues, he sure as shit isn’t supposed to be using it to pay debts.”

Stubs is already back at his computer. Another one of the screens lights up, this time with a grid of photos. Each one is of apothecary-style bottles, filled with an ultraviolet liquid that gives off a glow that reminds me of a black light.

Bones whistles, shaking his head. “That’s quite a payment. They must have hoped nobody would find it in the car, with how low of a reward they offered.”

“Or they didn’t want anyone poking around wondering why a car was so valuable,” Blaze suggests. Chainz shoots a finger gun at him, nodding.

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