Eve of Destruction by S. J. Day Page A

watched Romeo help Molenaar to his feet. A large shawl was tangled around the man’s neck, but it had previously been wrapped around his head, shoulders, and backpack, giving him the hunchback appearance. “You stink,” she accused.
    “So you thought I am a demon?” Jan’s blue eyeslooked ready to pop out of his head. “I was forced to hitchhike to here after I was left behind. The driver I traveled with did not care about his odor.”
    The girls came charging around the corner of the house—Izzie in pigtails, Claire sans glasses, and Laurel sporting a green beauty mask caked to her face.
    “What is happening?” Claire demanded, eyeing the gathering with arms akimbo. “When did you arrive, Molenaar?”
    “I wish I had not come now!” He glared at Eve.
    “You shouldn’t be sneaking around in the middle of the night,” she argued.
    Gadara turned his head to look at her, his gold hoop earring catching the light and glinting. “Were you defending us from a perceived threat?”
    “It’s dark. With that thing on his head and back, I couldn’t tell what he was. And where the hell are your guards?”
    “Right here.” A dark shape appeared from around the corner, his stride surefooted and confident. Eve recognized the voice as belonging to Diego Montevista, Gadara’s chief of security and one badass Mark. “Chasing down some delinquent teenagers. But there should be two guards here.”
    “On point, sir,” Mira Sydney replied from her position on the stoop. As large and forbidding as Montevista was, Sydney was the polar opposite. Fair to his dark, petite to his bulk. But she was his lieutenant, and it was clear they had developed a strong affinity. “When you went after the trespassers, we closed ranks and moved inside.”
    Gadara stepped closer to Eve. He pressed his wrist to her forehead and his gaze narrowed. She looked back at him with a challenging tilt to her chin. She felt as if she was burning up and knew he had to feel it, too.
    “Well done,” he said. Nothing more.
    “Excuse me?” Molenaar protested. “She almost killed me!”
    “You should not have been tardy this morning, Mr. Molenaar,” Gadara dismissed. “Then this misunderstanding would not have happened.”
    Laurel spun on her heel and stomped away. “This is ridiculous,” she tossed over her shoulder, “and I’m tired. Good night.”
    “I will walk with you,
bella,
” Romeo offered, jogging after her.
    Richens snorted in disgust. “That’s devotion if he can still shag her with that shit on her face.”
    “Mr. Richens.” Gadara’s voice was disapproving, as was his frown. “You will keep such vulgar thoughts to yourself. Please show Mr. Molenaar into the house and help him settle in.”
    “I’m hungry,” Molenaar said, shrugging off his rucksack.
    “You’re always hungry,” Ken scoffed.
    Claire yawned. “I am returning to my bed.” Her gaze settled on Eve. “Please do not wake me when you come in.”
    Eve’s return smile was forced.
    A cell phone with a Handel’s
Messiah
ringtone rang inside the men’s quarters. Her brows rose.
    Gadara smiled. “That would be mine, of course.”
    “Of course.” Archangels with cell phones, such was her life. Ready to crawl under a rock, Eve offered a brief wave, then moved around him. “I’m calling it a night.”
    “You should wait a moment, Ms. Hollis,” he suggested. “Cain will insist on speaking with you.”
    “How do you know—” Eve stopped. Of course he would know, he was an archangel.
    “Because I ceased communicating with him when we heard the disturbance out here.” His dark eyes were bright with amusement. “And I told him to call.”
    “Oh. Right.” As if Alec took orders well.
    “Come in where it is warm.”
    “I’m not cold. I told you that.” And the fact that he wouldn’t acknowledge her condition made it even more suspect.
    Still, Eve followed Gadara to the men’s side of the duplex. Edwards was pouring himself a glass of milk in the