Page 50 of Azrael

“You know,” Dakota said finally, “you should be there when he gets back.”

I looked up from my coffee.“At the clubhouse?”

She nodded.“These men -- they’d never admit it but seeing you waiting after a mission like this… it matters.It reminds them what they’re fighting to come home to.”

I considered her words, remembering the rare vulnerability I sometimes glimpsed in Azrael’s eyes when he thought I wasn’t looking.The way he held me a little tighter after our first night together.

“I’ll be there,” I decided.

Dakota smiled, satisfied.“Good.Now finish that pastry.You need your strength.”

As we continued talking, the knot in my stomach slowly began to unravel.The fear didn’t disappear -- it never would as long as I loved a man like Azrael -- but it became manageable.I could breathe again.

Later, after Dakota had left, I stood at the window watching the rain slowly taper off.The sky had darkened, stars beginning to peek through breaks in the clouds.Somewhere under those same stars, Azrael was fighting to save my mother and make it back to me.

I placed the photograph on the nightstand and began deciding what I’d wear to the clubhouse.Tomorrow night, I would be there when he walked through those doors.And whatever darkness he carried back with him, whatever weight rested on his shoulders, I would be ready to help him bear it.

Because loving the Angel of Death meant accepting all of him -- the protector and the destroyer, the man and the myth.And in the quiet moments between missions, when he laid his head in my lap and let me see the vulnerability behind his eyes, I knew I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

Chapter Fourteen

Azrael

The bar in Tel Aviv smelled like stale beer and bad decisions.I’d made plenty of those in my time, but sitting across from Eli in the dim back room, I knew this might be the worst one yet.The wooden table between us bore the scars of countless deals gone south, knife marks and cigarette burns telling their own stories.I kept my face neutral, waiting.In my world, the first one to speak usually lost.

Stripes’ Russian contacts had set this meeting up.It was our best chance at extracting Mazida with the least possible resistance.While he might not be the very top guy, he was close enough.

Behind me, Samurai leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest.Not a bodyguard -- I didn’t need one -- but a reminder I wasn’t alone.I had a brotherhood, ties to other men like myself, and those ties came with responsibilities.Stripes stood near the door, his gaze missing nothing.

Eli tapped his fingers on the table, the sound barely audible over the muted bass from the main room of the bar.He wasn’t nervous.Men like him didn’t get nervous.He was impatient.

“You’re a hard man to find,” he said finally, his voice carrying the slightest hint of an Israeli accent, telling me he spent most of his time elsewhere.“If your Russian friends hadn’t requested this meeting, I may have missed this opportunity.”

“Not if you know where to look.”I kept my tone flat.“But then, I wasn’t hiding from you.”

Eli’s lips twitched.Not quite a smile.“Let’s not waste time.I have Mazida Quadir.You want her back.”

I didn’t flinch.We’d known her brother had kidnapped her and brought her here, to Tel Aviv, but until we got here, we hadn’t realized he’d handed her off to someone else.Someone more powerful, and far more deadly.

“What I want is for you to tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”I kept my hands visible on the table.It was a power move.I didn’t need to reach for a weapon to be dangerous.

Eli actually smiled then.“Because I’m not the worst monster in this room, Azrael.And because Mazida is not here.Kill me, and she dies alone in a place you’ll never find.After my men have had their fun, of course.”

I felt rather than saw Samurai shift his weight behind me.A warning:Don’t make this personal.I ignored it.

“What do you want?”I asked, already knowing I wouldn’t like the answer.

Eli leaned forward, his expensive suit rustling softly.“Three men.Three problems that need to go away.”

“Assassination isn’t my specialty,” I said, which wasn’t exactly true.I’d killed before, but always for my own reasons.Never as a hired gun.

“No?The avenging angel who takes out trash humans?That’s what they call you now, isn’t it?”Eli’s eyes narrowed.“Or is it only righteous when you decide who deserves to die?”

Stripes cleared his throat, a subtle warning in the sound.I’d known the old Russian long enough to recognize it.He was telling me to keep my temper in check.

“Mazida will be released if you eliminate three of my rivals,” Eli continued, his voice cold and precise now, all business.“Each one is a cancer.Each one deals in human flesh, in children.The kind of men you hunt anyway.”

“I do what I must,” I replied, jaw tight.I didn’t like being manipulated, even if the targets aligned with my personal code.“But I don’t work blind.Names.Locations.Security details.”

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