Page 2 of Helsing: Demon Slayer
“Thank you for playing along,” she said. A pang passed through her at her words. She ruthlessly squashed it.
He shrugged. “You expected me to, didn’t you? Wouldn’t want to disappoint.” Sarcasm sharpened the edge of his words. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to read in peace. Don’t spill your drink as you leave. They frown on that in libraries.”
Shocked and strangely hurt, Dianne nodded. “Of course.” Gripping the handle of her tote, she stood before glancing at his book. She smiled, her sweetest, brightest smile. “But you might want to turn it around first. Then again, maybe you’re used to reading your spy thrillers upside down.”
With that, she spun on her heel and walked as gracefully as she could toward the door where she exited without a backward glance.
She felt The Beast’s frowning gaze on her the entire time.
Ryan Helsing watched the breathtakingly beautiful blonde glide away from him. Damn! She caught him pretending to read. What would she make of it? And why, oh why, had he kissed her? She didn’t need him to participate to sell her little act, no matter how his weasel-self wanted to justify it. He hadn’t needed to devour her like a beast, though Lord knew that Dianne Markham qualified as the Beauty.
Ryan compartmentalized his interaction with Dianne Markham. He knew that he needed to get his head in the game. Olivia Kastrioti had entrusted him with this mission. And he had never failed before. He had no intention of doing so now, no matter how her sister affected him.
He looked down at the book he held. It was the first thing he’d grabbed after ducking into the library to keep from being spotted. He’d never imagined that Dianne would have the same idea.
Ryan ran a hand down his face and slid the book back on the shelf next to him. Clearly, he hadn’t been out among ordinary people in too long if the laughter, swimsuit-clad women, and freely flowing liquor lured him. He’d willingly left that life behind when he accepted the Kastriotis’ job offer as head of their security team. He hadn’t regretted it until now on this mission. With this particular package.
Sighing, he shoved back from his seat and stood. He’d taken the seat in the farthest corner facing the door as his training had ingrained in him. As if there was a real threat from the grannies playing poker at the next table or the drunken middle-aged couples lounging by the pool. No wonder he wasn’t taking this assignment seriously. Whatever had prompted Olivia to send him to shadow Dianne, it couldn’t merit the time of a former Army Ranger who now battleddaemonsand possessed humans calledbogomili. The kind of threat that never showed up on recon—until it already had its claws in someone.
Ryan left the library and headed for his cabin. As much as he needed to relocate Dianne Markham and keep eyes on her, he also needed to keep his distance from her for a few hours. She’d made him, even if she didn’t know it yet. He had a slim hope that she’d chalk it up to the size of the ship, which after all, was smaller than her alma mater, the University of Massachusetts. But if Markham had inherited even half the instincts and smarts that her older sister Olivia had, he knew she’d suspect him of something.
That was a big if in his book.
Olivia had become a badass covert operative. Her little sister? She didn’t look like someone who’d ever faced down real danger. But that kiss? That was another story.
As the elevator to his deck slid to a stop, Ryan called up details from the file on Markham that Miles Baxter, the operations chief for Kastrioti Security, had provided him. Twenty-nine. Never married. Social-media-marketing consultant. Entrepreneur. Inveterate party girl at night, girl boss by day. Large, boisterous group of college friends, with whom she often spent weekends, whether at clubs or dining out. String of boyfriends and casual hookups, though she’d recently gotten rid of her dating apps and scrubbed her social-media profile in a vain attempt to cleanse her image. Nothing really disappears on the Internet.
Ryan opened the door to his cabin, one of the interior ones with none of the amenities. In fact, it was little more than a metal-walled cave. He didn’t mind. As a Ranger, he’d spent years using his pack as a pillow. And then there was SERE school. Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape. He’d once spent three days barefoot in the woods with a combat knife, a length of twine, and a candy bar. So, no, he didn’t mind a cheap cruise fare.
Likely the only times that someone like Markham had to use a pale imitation of SERE skills was when slipping the advances of an unwanted male or surviving a day-long marketing seminar with bad coffee and stale croissants.
Ryan might not mind the claustrophobic cabin dominated by a double bed, but he did mind the lack of options for camouflage onboard a cruise ship. He wasn’t a spy for God’s sake. He was a warrior. Urban warfare still involved military gear, weapons, and tactical clothing. Not flip flops and swim trunks. And if he wanted to contact operations control where cell service didn’t exist, he’d use a sat phone.
He felt as restless as a wild horse trapped inside a catch pen, stripped of every instinct but the need to bolt.
Slipping off his sneakers, he doffed his clothes, folding each item neatly and stacking it in the small closet at the side of the cabin. Then he pulled on the swim trunks that Olivia had packed for him. She’d found a ridiculous blue-and-green swim camo pattern. When she’d handed them to him—in front of Beta Nagy, no less—she’d commented dryly that she wanted him to feel at home in a pool.
Olivia Kastrioti. She was like a den mother, quartermaster, and master sergeant all rolled into one. When he’d signed on to work for Kastrioti Security Services, he’d assumed that her husband, Mihàil, would give him his marching orders even though Olivia had recruited him. He’d assumed wrong.
Oh, Ryan had no doubt that the imposing Albanian general called the strategic shots when it came to their interminable battle against DarkIrim—Fallen Watchers who’d traded purpose for power and made Earth their playground. But the demi-angel worshipped the ground that his beautiful wife walked upon. And he was too intelligent not to see how exceptionally capable she was tactically. Or how she never forgot their central mission: to protect innocents.
It was almost as if the CIA had trained her to be azoti’s lady—a title of respect in Albania for a leader’s wife. A lord who was also adrangùe—half man, half dragon. Mihàil had once told him the old Albanian myths got the shape right, if not the source. Storm warriors, they were called. Born to fight monsters like the kulshedra. The truth? They weren’t born to save anyone. TheElioudwere fallout from a war Heaven never finished. But St. Michael hadn’t abandoned them. Redemption came with a mission—to protect the world from what their forefathers had unleashed.
A mission Olivia’s younger sister knew nothing about.
After Ryan had donned the absurd camo swim trunks, a T-shirt, and flip flops, he grabbed the lanyard with his cabin keycard and slung it around his neck. Then he pressed the tiny waterproof earwig into his ear. Its specialized long-range harmonic technology would permit him to communicate with Olivia back at the Kastrioti estate in Fushë-Arrëz, Albania. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t work inside the ship’s hull. He had to go out on deck.
And somehow manage to speak without anyone catching sight of him talking to himself. As always on this job, a cocktail in a plastic cup and a slightly unsteady gait would have to suffice as cover. Not exactly what the Rangers had trainedhimfor.
As he shut the cabin door, laughter echoed down the passageway. He stiffened. Being caught belowdecks with little room to maneuver gave him the creeping willies. He hadn’t joined the Navy for precisely this reason. Jumping out of an airplane was much preferable to living inside a tin can.
Turning, he saw a young couple in their late twenties strolling toward him holding hands.
A memory of walking hand-in-hand with Arly on a beach in the Bahamas took him by surprise, squeezing his chest like an invisible harmonic vise. It had been more than a year since his fiancée had dumped him and the pain still caught him unaware at times.
Damn, dude, get ahold of yourselfhe lectured silently as he nodded at the couple.
Ryan returned to the pool deck, alert to the cruise goers and crew members who crowded the passageways and public spaces. He saw nothing to raise any red flags. Which made perfect sense. Olivia had shared no intel on any human terrorist activity related to this sailing, just said she wanted eyes on Markham, who wouldn’t understand or appreciate having a former Army Ranger bodyguard. If Olivia had specific worries, likely they related to the shadowy world of theElioud, a race of demi-angels tasked with defending humanity against Dark angelic forces.
