Page 48 of Azrael

Samurai nodded.“He’s calling in some markers, seeing if there’s any leverage we can use.But he was clear -- we get her out tonight, no matter what.And we get our asses home.”

We were walking into a situation that had all the makings of a trap, dealing with people notorious for their sadistic creativity when crossed.But the image of Mazida’s frightened eyes stayed with me.I thought of my mother, of the stories she told me about the men who had violated her when she was barely fifteen.I hoped like hell no one had touched my mother-in-law, but who knew what these men were capable of.

“An hour gives us just enough time to prepare,” I said.“Samurai, get the cash from the hotel safe.Stripes, I want you to scout the perimeter of the meeting point before we arrive.”

“And you?”Stripes asked.

I checked my watch, calculating the timing.“I’m going to make sure we have a backup plan if this goes sideways.Meet back at the hotel in thirty.”

As we separated, blending into different streams of market-goers, I felt a familiar coldness settle over me -- the detachment that came before violence.It was the state of mind that had earned me my road name.Azrael.The Angel of Death.Tonight, I hoped that name would be enough to keep us alive and bring Mazida home.

But as I walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission had just become something much more dangerous than a simple exchange.The Kazarians didn’t deal in ransoms and releases.They dealt in blood and power.And by sundown, I had a feeling we’d be trading in both.

* * *

Zara

The rain tapped against the windows like impatient fingers, matching the rhythm of my pacing across the worn hardwood floor.Three days.Three days since Azrael had left for Tel Aviv with Stripes and Samurai, and the noticeable void from his absence added pressure with each passing hour.I clutched the photograph in my hands so tightly the edges had begun to crease -- Azrael and me taken the day before he’d left, his rare smile catching the sunlight while his arm wrapped possessively around my waist.The Devil’s Boneyard compound sat quiet beyond my window, most members gone on various assignments or holed up against the unseasonable downpour.I checked my phone for the thousandth time.No messages.No calls.Just the endless, maddening silence that came with loving a man they called the Angel of Death.

I traced my finger over Azrael’s face in the photograph.The man guarded his emotions like they were precious contraband, letting them out only in our most private moments.Sometimes I wondered if I was the only one who knew how deeply he felt things.Beneath the ruthless biker was a man haunted by his mother’s suffering, determined to balance scales that would forever remain tipped.

The phone on the counter chirped, and I nearly tripped over my own feet rushing to grab it.

“Hello?”I answered, not bothering to check the caller ID.

“Just me.”The disappointment must have been audible in my exhale because Clarity continued, “Still no word?”

“Nothing.”I sank onto the sofa, the photograph still clutched in my other hand.“It’s been three days.”

“That’s normal, though.Charming would know if something went wrong, and he’d send someone to tell you, or show up himself.”

“I just wish I knew for sure he was still alive and well.”I stared up at the ceiling.

“He’s fine.I’m sure of it.I just wanted to check on you.”

We talked for a few more minutes before hanging up.The conversation had done nothing to ease the knot in my stomach.I resumed my pacing.

A knock at my door jolted me from my memories.I froze, heart racing, before forcing myself to move.Club members rarely visited unless there was news -- good or bad.That’s something Clarity had made sure I knew when Azrael had left.

I opened the door to find Dakota, Charming’s wife, standing there with two steaming travel mugs and a paper bag that smelled of warm pastry.

“Thought you could use some company,” she said, brushing past me into the house without waiting for an invitation.Dakota carried herself with the confidence of a woman who had seen the worst life could offer and decided to live anyway.Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she wore no makeup, but there was a natural beauty to her that time couldn’t touch.

“Is there news?”I asked, unable to keep the desperation from my voice as I closed the door behind her.

Dakota set the mugs and bag on the kitchen table before turning to face me.“Not exactly, but Charming had a call from Samurai about an hour ago.”

My heart jumped into my throat.“And?”

She tilted her head and studied me.“I’m going to tell you what I know, and then you decide for yourself what you’ll do with the information.But first, sit down and drink this coffee before you wear a path in that floor.”

I complied, though my hands shook slightly as I accepted the mug she pushed toward me.“That sounds ominous.”

She shrugged.“It is what it is.Look, Charming had a meeting this morning with someone connected to our contacts in Israel.I also know that the mission parameters have changed.I’m just not sure of all the details.There are some things Charming won’t tell me.”

I set my mug down before I could drop it.“Are they in danger?”

“More than they expected to be,” she admitted.“But less than they’ve handled before.”

---