Demon's Embrace. Elle James

that had seen better days and bordered on a warehouse district. Some of the buildings were being renovated, others stood dull and poorly maintained, dusk adding to the air of gloom. Warehouses built in the 1940s stood empty, broken windows like so many sad eyes staring down at them as they passed.

      I parked in an alley a couple blocks away from our designated pick up point, picking a spot behind a stack of broken pallets and trash. Jimmy was due to leave his apartment building around nine o’clock. I sat for a few minutes, taking the time to check my Glock and flipped the safety switch on.

      Blaise and I hadn’t spoken two words since we’d gotten into the car. It suited me just fine. And the demon hadn’t pushed any words into my thoughts. Even better.

      Beside me, his lips twitched. I was afraid you’d shoot me.

      I’d spoken too soon. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stay the hell out of my head.” Infuriating demon.

      With more force than accuracy, I jammed my radio headset into my ear and handed one to Blaise.

      He shook his head. “We’re going together on this.”

      “I want you a block over. We don’t want him to catch our scents and make a run for it.”

      With a heavy frown, Blaise plugged the miniature radio into his ear and tested it. “I don’t know why I can’t just push thoughts.”

      “I like having a back up.” I got out and stretched, checked my watch and nodded. “It’s time.”

      Before we reached Jimmy’s apartment, I spotted a man fitting his description on the other side of the street, heading away from where we were standing. He disappeared around a corner.

      “You take the next street over. Don’t lose him.” I took off at a controlled jog, eager to close the distance before I lost the werewolf.

      I slipped through the streets, dodging yellowed streetlights and hugging the shadows of buildings as I ran a parallel course from my target, one street over. “You have Jimmy?” I whispered into my headset.

      Yeah. Blaise’s warm tones invaded my head sans the headset, sending shivers of awareness across my skin. Twenty yards ahead, moving slowly.

      Pushing aside the toe-curling lust his voice induced, I focused on the task at hand. “Stay far enough back he doesn’t get wind of you.”

      One of Manhattan’s young werewolves, Jimmy Raggio, had better olfactory nerves than I did and could smell a demon within a fifty-foot radius. Farther, if the wind was blowing his way. Although, this kid’s senses might be dulled by the amount of drugs he’d been snorting or shooting. His habit had pushed him over the line into selling to support his drug needs.

      That’s where Blaise and I came in. When otherkin ran amuck, we were called in to clean up the mess. Tracking Jimmy to his source should be a slam dunk. Nab Jimmy, nab his contact and we’d have two less scumbags trashing the New York City underworld.

      A month ago, I’d have laughed in anyone’s face who tried to tell me creatures that weren’t human roamed our city streets.

      All that had changed in a matter of days, when NYPD recruited me to their special taskforce—the Paranormal Investigative Team—lovingly referred to as the PIT crew.

      He just turned into an alley, headed back your way. Blaise’s thoughts cut through my musings.

      The alley I assumed he was referring to loomed half a block ahead of me like a dark maw, the streetlights barely penetrating the entrance. I held back, ducked behind a huge trash bin and waited, giving the young werewolf time to emerge. As I crouched there, the stench from the trash overpowered my senses.

      A really long minute went by.

      “See him?” Blaise asked.

      “No.” I gave it another half of a minute and left my hiding place and the smell, moving toward the alley entrance. I eased the night vision goggles over my eyes, careful not to look back and be blinded by the streetlight a block behind me. Werewolves and some demons, like my partner, could see at night. Humans, not so much.

      I paused at the corner of the building, my Glock drawn, thumbing off the safety switch.

      Voices echoed off the brick walls, the actual words garbled by distance.

      Squatting low, I peeked around the corner. Through my night vision goggles, three figures appeared in the alley, two standing, one carrying a limp form, glowing just as green as the others. A warm body, possibly alive for now.

      Damn. A simple drug run was turning into more.

      The green glowing figures stepped toward her, their voices low, intense, as if they were arguing in whispers.

      Don’t move on them until I get around to where you are, Blaise warned me.

      I slipped back around the side of the building, pushing the goggles to the top of my head. “They’re heading my way. Don’t try to come up behind them. The wind’s coming from that direction.”

      “Hide and wait.”

      As quickly as I could, I moved half a block back to the trash bin, sliding between it and the building.

      As footsteps clumped toward the alley entrance, I could make out their words.

      “If ya know what’s good for ya, you’ll ditch the bitch.”

      “Can’t. She’s my cousin. My ma’ll kill me if I leave her there.”

      “When Nic finds out you took her, he’ll do the job and make it hurt as you go down. He likes to make examples of anyone else who takes what’s his.”

      “He wasn’t there when I took her.”

      “That demon has eyes and ears everywhere. He’ll know.”

      “Look, Jimmy, I can’t leave her.”

      “You’re on your own, Mario.” Jimmy emerged from the alley, leading the way. He glanced right and left before cutting across the street.

      “He’s on the move,” I said into my microphone. Before Blaise could respond, a hand clamped over my mouth, another around my waist pinning one of my arms to my side. I was hauled up against a solid wall of muscle.