Page 27 of Love Me Darkly
Wide brown eyes filled Mateo’s vision, innocent and tearful. Soft, rounded cheeks. A dusting of freckles. Rainbow sneakers with loose laces. A ballet tutu and matching slippers.
Angelica. His little girl.
“I am … going to … kill you!” he barked out between coughs.
More blood splattered his chin. They were the last words he said, for every breath required intense concentration. Consciousness began to slip away. The world loomed above him and he was sinking.
The chilling voice reached out to him just before he lost consciousness.
“You may try, Agent.”
Mateo jerked awake at the sound of someone pounding on his hotel room door. He rolled onto his back and pressed his fingers against dry, tender eyes. The pounding wasn’t just in his ears; it was in his head, relentless. His entire body ached, and the taste of soured Scotch lingered on his tongue.
“I’m fucking coming!” he bellowed, pressing a hand to one ear to try to block out the thumping. “Jesus fucking Christ!”
He managed to get to his feet, casting a bleary glance at the clock on the nightstand. It was six a.m. He’d been asleep for a grand total of one hour. He had just as much time to shower and pour himself into a suit before meeting the team at the field office.
One member of that team stood in his doorway, impeccably dressed and frowning at him.
“You knock like a goddamn cop,” Mateo growled.
Donovan pushed his way inside. “You look like a blender chewed you up and spit you out.”
“It’s how I feel. Come in, by the way.”
“Yeah, we don’t have time for pleasantries. What happened?”
Mateo groaned while sinking into his desk chair, easing back against the headrest. Going to sleep had been a bad idea. He was pretty sure he had a concussion. Finding half a bottle of water on the edge of the desk, he tore it open and chugged it in a few swallows. Donovan paced, waiting.
“I got photos and footage of an exchange. Women, dozens of them, for something in wooden crates.”
“And then?”
Mateo ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Someone spotted me. I was followed.”
Donovan sucked in a sharp breath. “Shit.”
“I fought him off, but barely. The guy was jacked up on something I think, maybe PCP. He was strong … too strong. And he was drooling and rambling, saying crazy shit.”
He lifted the pad he had used last night to scribble down what he remembered of his attacker’s words and handed it to Donovan.
“Blood and breath. You can’t escape the truth. Azrael sees all.”
Donovan’s steely eyes snapped up to lock with his. “Well, that puts the question of whether all this is connected to rest.”
“That’s not all,” Mateo said, retrieving the round, plastic device his attacker had left behind. “The guy didn’t have any ID on him or anything, but there was this.”
Donovan plucked the hard plastic from his hand and turned it over. “What is it?”
“Hell if I know. I heard a clicking sound before he attacked me, and then a cough. I think this was what made the sound.”
Donovan pressed his thumb against the side and a square section pressed inward with an audible ‘click’. He squinted and peered closer before bringing the device to his mouth.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Donovan pushed the button again and inhaled, then pulled the device away from his mouth. “I think it’s an inhaler. My mama has something like this. It administers medication for heartburn. There’s a cylinder of pills or something inside and the device crushes them into a powder that can be inhaled. Whatever was in here is gone, though. It’s empty.”
“Definitely a drug. Maybe not PCP, most don’t snort or huff that.”
