Page 80 of Angel Betrayed

She opened the passenger door and slid onto the cracked seat. “You’re saying that Az was wrong?”

Sam gunned the engine. The truck just screeched. As getaway vehicles went, this one sucked. But beggars couldn’t be fucking choosy. “No.” Because he couldn’t lie to her. “I’m saying, sweetheart, that Az isn’t lily white when it comes to sin. His hands are dirty.”

“Dirtier than yours?”

He didn’t answer. She just had to keep pushing. If she wasn’t careful, he’d push back soon. Yes, he got it—she was furious that he’d used her as bait, but he hadn’t been given a lot of options.

The truck lurched forward. Dust spun in the air. Sam glanced in the rearview mirror. The old guy was already standing up, shaking his fists in the air, and screaming.

“I don’t think Az set those fires,” she told him, and it was the same song she’d been singing—one that was royally pissing him off. Why did the woman keep defending his brother? “I think Rogziel did it,” she continued in a determined I-Know-The-Truth voice.

Ah, yes, let’s not forget the other fun player in their little game. Now just how had Rogziel been able to?—

The bed of the truck suddenly sank to the ground, as if something very big had jumped onto the back. The vehicle swerved as Sam fought to control it. Cursing, he risked a glance over his shoulder, but he saw nothing.

But he could swear that, through the broken back window, he felt the hot stench of hell’s breath.

“Sam! Sam, what’s happening?”

Metal grated. The few bits of glass still on that back windshield broke away. “You tell me,” he shouted, but he knew what was happening.

He’d fallen for lying eyes. Innocence that he should have known was a trick for a demon. He lunged forward as far as he could and drove the gas pedal down to the ground as he deliberately jerked the steering wheel from the left to the right in an attempt to dislodge their new passenger.

Sam knew a hellhound had hitched a ride with them.

Sonofabitch. A succubus shouldn’t be able to summon a hellhound.

Invisible claws ripped into his shoulder, and deep rivulets of blood sprayed into the air.

“Sam! What’s happening?” Terror and fear seemed to cloak Seline’s lying words.

He grabbed her hand and held tight even as he fought to steer with his left hand. “Call it off,” he shouted. Because he understood—finally—just what was going on. No wonder the hound hadn’t so much as scratched Seline’s skin. The beast couldn’t.

A hellhound could never hurt its master.

He risked a fast glance at her—even as claws raked him again—but he didn’t free her hand. “Call it the fuck off.”

“Call what off?” She didn’t try to tug free. Her eyes were wide and scared—and black as night. “There’s nothing back there!”

Nothing that could be seen, not yet, but the beast’s claws and teeth could sure be felt.

“It’s your hound.” Why hadn’t he seen this before? He’d been so unconcerned with Seline’s “other” half. A hybrid. Hell, he’d been so blind.

The hound hadn’t attacked her.

The beast had found them too fast, and there was only one way a hound could track this fast.

The hellhound had honed in on its master.

And the next words had to be said, because that last swipe of the beast’s claws had come too close to his neck. “Call it off…or you die.” If a hound’s master wouldn’t call the beast back, then the only way to stop a hellhound was to kill that master.

Without the master, the hound went back to hell instantly.

“What?” Her hoarse whisper.

His hold tightened on her. He could hear the beast’s snarls now. Hungry growls. The hound wanted a soul to feed on. Too bad. His wasn’t on the menu. “Pull the beast back, or go to hell with the hound.” Betrayed. All of it had been a setup, and he’d been too blind to see the truth.

Lust had made him stupid.

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