Page 84 of Demon's Angel

“Wait here. Hell, you come with me.” Checking our guns are within easy reach, the two of us keep in the shadow conveniently provided by the bushes between this and the neighbouring property. When I reach the front door, Hellfire is right behind me. It’s a quiet area; I hear an owl hooting and, in the distance, traffic moving. Nothing to raise suspicions.

Hell stands to my side, ready to burst in after me.

I raise my hand to knock. The slight pressure of my fist hitting the wood causes the door to ominously swing open. I exchange another look with Hell.A trap?I signal him to stay put.

Knowing my brother will have my back, I warily step inside. Darkness has fallen, moonlight coming in through the windows is the only brightness. Taking out my flashlight, I switch it on then look around carefully, my eyes taking in everything, the lack of furniture, the dusty floor. And the one set of footprints disappearing through a doorway, then coming back. Apart from those, the place doesn’t look like it’s seen anyone since Angel bought it.

Could Violet be upstairs? But how would they have gotten her there without leaving a trace?

“A trap?” Hell whispers behind me, his head peering around, taking in the same scene.

“Unless there’s a back door, doesn’t look like anyone else, apart from the person who left those prints, has been here.” I listen again. I can’t hear anything.

The shape of the shoes in the dust is compelling. It reminds me of Hansel and Gretel, but did that story have a happy ending? For the life of me I can’t remember. Someone was cooked, that’s for sure.

“Think we should search?”

“I’m going through there.” I point to where the trail leads.

“Be fuckin’ careful, Son,” Hell growls “Remember, Angel likes a set-up.”

I’m only too well aware. It’s tempting to walk in the exact same spot, but in my head, I’m running over any possible threat there could be. Explosives hidden under the boards? A pressure trigger just waiting for me? With hairs pricking at the back of my neck, gingerly I ease my way halfway between the footprints and the wall. My senses on high alert, I turn back, “Wait outside, Hell.”

His face is full of concern, but he reluctantly obeys with a nod. I’d have the exact same feelings as him, I’d want to stay close, too, but there is no point us both dying together.

As carefully as a big man can, I move across the floor, my ears pricked for any sound, the tiniest snick of a bomb being primed, ready to throw myself back. But it’s only silence and that damn bird ‘whoo-o-ing’ outside that I can hear. Two steps to go. I can now see I’m being led to a kitchen.

Am I on a wild goose chase? Is there really any clue to be found?Maybe it’s just someone checking on their empty premises. There’s nothing to be seen, the place clearly hasn’t been lived in for a while. There are no pots, pans or anything visible. Just counters and cupboards.And those footsteps leading to one in particular, then turning around and walking back out.Perhaps someone just came in to look for something.

Wanting to move this along, I step to the cupboard, placing my hand on the handle and pulling it. Then I jump back so fast I slip and fall on my ass, my heart only just staying put and not leaping out of my chest. As maniacal chuckles ring out, my rage rises to the surface.A fucking jack-in-the-box. Rigged to give a heart attack to whoever opened the door. Christ.Wanting to kill something, anything, standing I return to destroy the toy when my eyes fall on a note behind it. Sweeping the offending object which almost caused my death through stopping my heart aside I take out the paper and quickly scan the words on it.

Don’t bother wasting your time. I’m not so stupid as to stash Violet at any of my known locations. The woman’s gone. Forget her. You’ll never see her again.

“What the fuck, Demon?” Hell’s come in. “What the fuck was that laughter and the crash?”

I point to the jack-in-the-box, now looking forlorn on the floor. “He was the messenger. And this, the message.” I pass the paper over to Hell.

He takes it and reads it. His lips press together. “What do you want to do, Son?”

“We carry on. Might find a clue somewhere. Might be trying to halt the search.”

“Or he could be telling the truth. He has her somewhere we don’t know about.”

“Already out of state?”

Hell considers for a second. “Nah. He needs her close, and if he’s making a play to be don, he can’t afford to leave Pueblo right now. She’s here, somewhere.”

But she’s not. Mace, Ink, Lizard, Hell and I visit every location we know about, at one needing to call for backup and use our fists and the threat of our guns to get answers, but of Violet there’s no sign.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Violet

“It would be easier just to drug her again.”

Angel looks from me to his wife, then pointedly at the food and half-drunk bottle of water. “I think she’d rather starve herself than eat anything we give her, Vitalia.”

“She has to drink. Or thecapocould bring some heroin in. That’s an idea. Get her hooked, she’ll be more pliable, and she’ll suffer.”

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