continued. “Second, I didn’t tell her anything special. Just a little bit about the militia and what we believe in.”
Despite my anger at Craig’s insult, I continued to smile. “It was fascinating stuff. It will make for a great article.”
It was like I’d dropped a match into a box of oily rags. Craig’s face tightened as his temper blazed. He stepped forward, pushing his finger into J.T.’s chest. “What’s the number one rule? No one talks to reporters without permission from the group.”
Trapped, J.T. looked from me to Craig and back again. “Lilith wants to write from our point of view,” he argued. “She agrees with us.”
“I think the Great Lakes Militia makes a lot of sense, and if other people only realized the truth, you’d have more supporters.” Saying those things was like chewing broken glass, but I managed it. “You need public opinion on your side. That’s all.”
I’d hoped this would back Craig off a little. After all, my assignment was to get the two of them to argue, not kill each other. But if anything, my client looked even angrier. “The Great Lakes Militia, huh? I suppose lover boy there didn’t bother to mention that he thinks the Militia has become too mainstream.”
I turned to J.T., shocked. “Seriously?”
J.T. stared Craig down. “What I said was that the Militia is drifting away from their original purpose.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Craig shot back.
My demon elbowed me. Hard.
I looked up just in time to see a teenager with short brown hair and a metal stud in her nose approach our table. Her eyes were brilliantly blue. She looked different from the other two times I’d seen her, but I wasn’t fooled. It was the angel.
Craig and J.T. were so deep into their argument that neither one of them noticed when I left them to intercept the troublemaker. I planted myself directly in her path, my hands on my hips. “You’re too late. I got to him this time.” She tried to step around me, but I used the trick she’d used on me the night before, moving to the side in order to block her. “It’s over. Go home.”
She looked past my shoulder, then gave me a triumphant smile. “Are you sure?”
I turned around. Not only had Craig and J.T. stopped arguing, J.T. was about to throw the first ball of the game. “Shit! How did that happen?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Once your evil influence was gone, they went back to playing nice.”
The two men might have been playing nice, but I was damned if I was going to leave the bowling alley without completing my mission. Angel or no angel.
I started to return to the table, determined to stir up more trouble, but the angel grabbed my shoulder. “Sorry to spoil your fun, but I can’t let you do that.”
I wrestled out of her grip, but the moment I did, she locked her other hand on my wrist, her fingers encircling it like a handcuff. Everyone in the bowling alley was too focused on their games to notice our struggle. I pried the angel’s fingers from my wrist, but she grabbed the strap to my purse.
“Don’t you dare rip that,” I told her. “It’s Gucci!”
“What’s with Hell and designer labels?” she asked through gritted teeth. “I sometimes wonder if Patrick defected because of the clothes.”
Patrick? Patrick as in Mr. Clerk?
My surprise made me pause, giving her another opportunity. She let go of my bag and got my elbow, twisting it behind me hard enough to make me gasp. Who knew angels could fight so dirty?
She pulled me backwards, throwing me off balance. She was determined, but so was I. Frantically, I yanked back, gaining a little headway. I might have made it over to Craig and J.T. if I’d tried. But tempting Craig would have been impossible while I had an angel fastened to my arm. I needed to get rid of her. Do something, I told my demon. Give me a distraction. Something!
The demon suggested that I drag the angel out into the parking lot and beat the crap out of her. As much as I
Despite my anger at Craig’s insult, I continued to smile. “It was fascinating stuff. It will make for a great article.”
It was like I’d dropped a match into a box of oily rags. Craig’s face tightened as his temper blazed. He stepped forward, pushing his finger into J.T.’s chest. “What’s the number one rule? No one talks to reporters without permission from the group.”
Trapped, J.T. looked from me to Craig and back again. “Lilith wants to write from our point of view,” he argued. “She agrees with us.”
“I think the Great Lakes Militia makes a lot of sense, and if other people only realized the truth, you’d have more supporters.” Saying those things was like chewing broken glass, but I managed it. “You need public opinion on your side. That’s all.”
I’d hoped this would back Craig off a little. After all, my assignment was to get the two of them to argue, not kill each other. But if anything, my client looked even angrier. “The Great Lakes Militia, huh? I suppose lover boy there didn’t bother to mention that he thinks the Militia has become too mainstream.”
I turned to J.T., shocked. “Seriously?”
J.T. stared Craig down. “What I said was that the Militia is drifting away from their original purpose.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Craig shot back.
My demon elbowed me. Hard.
I looked up just in time to see a teenager with short brown hair and a metal stud in her nose approach our table. Her eyes were brilliantly blue. She looked different from the other two times I’d seen her, but I wasn’t fooled. It was the angel.
Craig and J.T. were so deep into their argument that neither one of them noticed when I left them to intercept the troublemaker. I planted myself directly in her path, my hands on my hips. “You’re too late. I got to him this time.” She tried to step around me, but I used the trick she’d used on me the night before, moving to the side in order to block her. “It’s over. Go home.”
She looked past my shoulder, then gave me a triumphant smile. “Are you sure?”
I turned around. Not only had Craig and J.T. stopped arguing, J.T. was about to throw the first ball of the game. “Shit! How did that happen?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Once your evil influence was gone, they went back to playing nice.”
The two men might have been playing nice, but I was damned if I was going to leave the bowling alley without completing my mission. Angel or no angel.
I started to return to the table, determined to stir up more trouble, but the angel grabbed my shoulder. “Sorry to spoil your fun, but I can’t let you do that.”
I wrestled out of her grip, but the moment I did, she locked her other hand on my wrist, her fingers encircling it like a handcuff. Everyone in the bowling alley was too focused on their games to notice our struggle. I pried the angel’s fingers from my wrist, but she grabbed the strap to my purse.
“Don’t you dare rip that,” I told her. “It’s Gucci!”
“What’s with Hell and designer labels?” she asked through gritted teeth. “I sometimes wonder if Patrick defected because of the clothes.”
Patrick? Patrick as in Mr. Clerk?
My surprise made me pause, giving her another opportunity. She let go of my bag and got my elbow, twisting it behind me hard enough to make me gasp. Who knew angels could fight so dirty?
She pulled me backwards, throwing me off balance. She was determined, but so was I. Frantically, I yanked back, gaining a little headway. I might have made it over to Craig and J.T. if I’d tried. But tempting Craig would have been impossible while I had an angel fastened to my arm. I needed to get rid of her. Do something, I told my demon. Give me a distraction. Something!
The demon suggested that I drag the angel out into the parking lot and beat the crap out of her. As much as I
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