As soon as Gideon saw Maggie and her friends gathering up their belongings, he’d beat feet outside, wanting to trail her without her knowledge. It’d be easier—though he wasn’t sure how he was going to go about it just yet—to get that cuff on her wrist while she was alone, not surrounded by a gaggle of women. One thing he’d learned early on while under Lucifer’s thumb? Gather as much intel as you could about your chosen target before you made your move. Learn their regular haunts, figure out their patterns. Surprise was often a risk you couldn’t afford. And Gideon, the strategist, was never taken by surprise.
The door opened again. Maggie’s group of friends began spilling outside. He scanned the pack, but he didn’t see her. His unease grew as he watched the women totter into waiting cabs and disperse.
And still no Maggie.
Where the hell is she?
“Damn it,” he hissed beneath his breath. He hadn’t sensed any demon presence inside Angel’s Fall. That didn’t mean one couldn’t have been there, concealing himself somehow.
Christ on a crutch.
He’d let himself become distracted. By her. He knew better.
Gideon straightened from where he leaned against the brick wall, intent on crossing the street and storming back inside after her. The air just to the side of the nightclub’s doorway began to waver. Gideon darted back into the shadows. Three demons solidified. He couldn’t tell what species, given they were all in human form, but it didn’t matter much. Demon was demon. All that did matter was the fact they were standing between him and the Halfling he was supposed to be guarding.
Gideon licked his lips. Did he dare shimmer inside and risk someone seeing him? Did he risk leaving a shimmer trail?
Hell, what did a shimmer trail matter? The raw power the Halfling exuded would probably overwhelm it anyway. The moment he’d walked inside the bar, he’d known she was there. Had felt her power like a shower of electrical sparks over his skin. They would feel it too. The only thing a shimmer trail would do was speed their efforts to find her before someone else got their hands on her.
The demons were now entering the club. By their serious expressions, he’d be willing to bet they were there on a mission and not just out for a little action.
A mission named Maggie Michaels.
One of the demons paused, there on the threshold, his malevolent grin growing wide. Gideon would bet his guard stone encrusted Rolex the bastard had already sensed her.
Screw it. Centering his focus, he visualized the dark hallway that led to the restrooms. The shadows around him, the rough brick wall at his back, the filthy concrete beneath his boots, the cool night air blurred, faded away and were replaced by the scent of expensive booze, cloying perfume, sweating humans and cheap disinfectant cleaners. Hardwood beneath his boots steadied him. Corrugated steel walls appeared on either side of him, a long dark hallway that led to restrooms on one end, and a loud, packed dance floor on the other. No one screamed or shouted in alarm when he solidified. Aside from himself, the hallway was empty.
Gideon darted to the end of the hall nearest the dance floor, and scanned the bobbing heads, scanning faces in the crowd. As tall as he was, with the sunken dance floor, it wasn’t difficult to see the whole room at a glance. The group of demons stood near the front door, scanning the dance floor as well. On the plus side, they hadn’t found her yet either. On the other hand, where they were standing, they were far more likely to catch her first as she’d have to pass by them in order to leave the building.
He didn’t want to draw their attention, at least, not if he could help it. While he would relish the chance to wipe the floor with them, there were far too many innocents in the direct line of fire. He might have an acknowledged death wish, but that didn’t mean he was willing to take a bunch of unsuspecting, innocent humans with him.
He debated his best plan of action, his mind quickly and without conscious effort calculating the best odds for success in each scenario. Bottom line, he had to go out there, weave through the crowd without letting anyone realize they weren’t actually touching him, even though it looked as if they should be, and find her before those demons did. He cursed Sebastian to Hell and back for asking him to do this.
“Um, excuse me?” A soft, feminine voice drew his attention.
He froze for a split second, then turned as the hint of cinnamon and vanilla wafted closer. His eyebrows shot up and he grinned wide. He couldn’t believe his luck.
“Oh, it’s you,” Maggie Michaels whispered, a becoming blush flooding her cheeks beneath the pulsing neon glow of the dance floor lights.
Despite the mad swirl of color and strobe of lights, a heavy dusting of freckles along the bridge of her nose and across the upper ridges of her cheeks was clearly visible. Her eyes were a blue-green, not quite one color, not quite the other, but a beautiful combination of the two. Like tropical waters. Crystal clear and alluring.