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The name suited him. “Nice to meet you, Frank.” Rowan turned to Hannah. “We have any idea what that dark cloud is all about?”
Hannah shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” She tugged on Frank’s arm. “We need to clear the bar. Get everyone to go home.”
Frank nodded and turned, cursing under his breath. “This is really gonna hurt our bottom line this month.” He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled long and loud. “Everyone out!”
A few groans met his command, but nobody jumped to do his bidding. He turned in a circle and grabbed Hannah’s arm. “You want the crazy lady with the gun to ask? ’Cause I don’t think she’ll be as nice as me.”
Within seconds, the place was hopping with patrons throwing cash onto the tables and leaving.
Azaiel came in from outside, his face hard as stone and eyes full-fledged black. The power inside him was hard to miss. It rolled off his tall frame in waves, and Rowan realized that for the most part he kept it hidden.
“Holy crap,” Hannah whispered. “He’s hot as hell, but seriously, he scares me more than anyone we’ve hunted in the past. Are you positive we can trust him?”
I wish I knew.
“No. But at the moment, he’s all we’ve got.”
“Great.” Hannah took a step back. “Good to know.”
Azaiel stopped a few inches from them, his gaze sweeping the now-empty bar. When his eyes rested on Rowan, the intensity in his eyes touched her as if he’d taken his hand and run it along her cheek. It made her nervous—scared her even—this connection she felt to him.
“Do you know what that cloud is?” Thank God she sounded somewhat normal.
He nodded. “First wave.”
“First wave?” Hannah asked, a touch of fear in her voice. “God, do I want to know what that means? Sounds like a mother-trucker of a sci-fi movie or something.”
“Okay, I can’t let this go again.” Rowan turned to her cousin. “Mother-trucker? Really?”
“Look, I’m trying to curb my potty mouth, all right? You got a problem with that?”
“No, I just . . . it’s not you.”
“Well this is the new me. So get used to it.”
“More like Simon Bayfield’s idea of a new you,” Frank snorted.
“Who?” Rowan asked.
“He’s no one,” Hannah answered a little too quickly. “First wave?” she prodded.
“The first of many if I’m reading this right,” Frank answered. The burly man heaved a sigh and shook his head. “This is worse than I thought.” He looked at Rowan. “It’s him, right? Mallick?”
Startled, Rowan glanced at Hannah, but her cousin shrugged. “He knows everything.”
“That is a family secret.” Rowan was incensed. “Only the coven knows. Only the coven is supposed to know.”
“I didn’t tell him.” Hannah’s chin rose defensively. “Your mother did.”
Rowan opened her mouth but didn’t quite know how to respond. It seemed as if Frank Talbot knew her mother a lot more intimately than she’d realized.
“None of that matters now. That cloud dispatched several assassins, who are now looking for”—Azaiel’s gaze swung to Hannah—“you.”
“Me? But I’m not the one they want . . .” Her voice trailed away as she fisted her hands, the gun still held within her grasp. “Right. The entire coven is marked. I guess they don’t really care who they take out.”
Hannah’s gaze swung past Azaiel until her electric blue eyes rested on Rowan.
“Hannah—” Rowan started.
