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Then Jude strode away. He didn’t look back, and Erin stared after him, feeling like she should say something, but having no idea what.
It’s not over.
No, it wasn’t.
ChapterSeventeen
An hour later,Jude entered hell.
From the outside, hell appeared pretty unassuming. It looked just like an old building, one with a few beat-up cars lining the broken lot. A drunk or two sprawled on the sidewalk outside the square, squat structure.
Appearances were so deceiving.
Dammit, I fucking hate demons’ dens.
And he really did. Of all the shitholes in the world, the demons’ dens were the worst. He hated them. Hated the stench. Hated the blood and booze. And Jude hated the drugged out demons who flocked to the dens looking for their next fix.
Demons. Talk about an addictive personality. He’d never come across supernaturals who were as hooked on drugs as demons. Some demons, all they lived for was their next hit.
They always had to get more. Had to get lost. To forget.
There were rumors that the demonshadto turn to the drugs. Especially if they were unlucky enough to have the whispered Dark Touch.
The Dark Touch. It was another name, a more fitting one, for the psychic powers that turned some demons into conduits for the dregs of human society—killers, rapists, child molesters.
The rumors were that the drugs quieted or, in some cases, even severed that twisted link. But the problem was, once the demons started the drugs, it was a fast downward spiral.
Demons just got addicted too fast.
That addiction fear was one of the reasons Zane didn’t so much as drink or smoke. Jude knew the demon had seen his father go down the drug path, with gruesome results.
Jude inhaled, caught the stench in the air, and knew he was in the right place. Or maybe the wrong one.
The den waited for him. A hole in the middle of hell. Looked like a drug house, smelled like a drug house—because itwasa drug house.
But the demons in there, they would talk. They’d tell him all he needed to know about Rogue wolves. Because if anybody knew about predators, it was those bastards.
It had been another grade A bastard who’d led him to this sour side of hell. Mickey had called him—somehow the bastard was already out on bail—and told him about the den. According to fast talking Mickey, Jude would find exactly what he needed in there.
The tip hadn’t been free, of course. Nothing was free. He’d just have to wait and see what price Mickey demanded. Not that he’d actually pay the bastard.
Jude rapped hard on the old door. A demon with a giant rod shoved through his nose jerked it open. Jude flashed him a twenty.
The demon’s gaze darted over him, then he smiled and eased back.
Erin’s sweet scent clung to Jude’s skin—he’d just had to claim her once more, couldn’t resist that temptation, but the stench of the den wrapped around him as he crossed the threshold.
And he went deeper into the demons’ den.
* * *
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.Mickey McQueen rocked back and forth on his heels. He’d gotten out of jail—finally—and was ready to blow this city.
But first...
First he wanted his money.
He stood on the street corner, glancing to the left and to the right. He still couldn’t believe his luck. That tiger wouldn’t know what hit him.
