The Forsaken by Shiloh Walker

Author:Shiloh Walker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2015-08-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

Biff Stahley came in, his eyes drawn low over his brows, his mouth an unsmiling line.

“You got yourself a visitor.”

Linc opened his mouth and Biff shot him a glare. “Not you, you fuck.” He jerked his chin toward Jay. “Her.”

Jay rose, a weird little smile on her face. She smoothed her hands down the sides of her tattered, tight jeans, jeans that cupped her round ass like a lover. Linc had a hard time tearing his eyes away from that excellent ass, but he managed, because the tension pounding in the air was a palpable thing.

She moved almost lazily toward the cell door and Linc came to his feet, eyeing Biff narrowly, curious.

“You going to let him have his phone call?” she asked, glancing back in Linc’s direction.

Don’t worry about me, sugar. He should have taken a few minutes to tell her that, but he had been too busy brooding. Too busy trying to figure a way out of this for her. Looked like she might already have a way out. Why the hell hadn’t he pulled his head out of his ass already?

Biff smacked his keys against the bars. “You ain’t needin’ to worry about him.”

“Yeah? Well, it might interest my…visitor,” she said, laughter underlying her voice. “Seeing as how neither of us got a fucking phone call.”

Biff leaned in, jamming his face close to the bars. “You watch your mouth.”

“I think I like my mouth as it is, Officer Stahley.” She rocked back on her heels. “Now, do I get to see my visitor or not?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her.

Then, with his next words, he just about ripped the floor out from under Lincoln Dawson’s feet.

“Just how the fuck do you know an FBI agent?”

The town was called Hell. That alone would have warned her and she didn’t need to be psychic to figure it out.

But Taige Morgan was psychic and the longer they were inside the town’s miniscule limits, the more her skin crawled. She’d slammed up her shields nearly thirty minutes ago because something had just felt wrong. Her normal shields weren’t cutting it and now she felt like she’d wrapped herself in bubble wrap thanks to the extra shields she’d layered around her mind.

It still wasn’t enough.

Her skin crawled like she’d been thrown down into a nest of fire ants, and she didn’t really care for the sensation.

“I’m not going to like this job,” she said flatly, slipping her husband a sidelong look as they cooled their heels in the tiny little lobby of the police department of Hell. Around her neck, she wore her FBI ID. Part of her wished she hadn’t answered that call from the Oswald Group. But she knew Elise Oswald. Elise was an iron bitch, but she knew her shit and if she said there were problems, that only meant one thing.

Problems.

Cullen slid her a look and said, “You could have just not answered the phone.”

It hadn’t really been much of an option, though. Her gut had told her that.

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