He had friends? Doubtful.

“He owed me, and this place was part of the payment.”

Sam turned away and opened the door. “Get inside, Seline. My men will check your story tonight, and if I find out that you’re lying, if you’re trying to set me up . . .”

“Does that happen a lot?” Seline asked as she brushed by him. “Are people always lying to you?”

“Yes.”

Her chin lifted as more lights flooded on inside the house. “Then that’s sad. You should be able to trust someone in this world. I mean, don’t you even have any family that—”

Oh, yeah. Wrong thing to say. She glanced back and saw his face harden as he slammed the door shut behind them. “Get upstairs.”

Wow. That was a barely human growl.

“You know, you really should work on trying to be polite. Try asking instead of snapping at people all the time. Charm can work, honestly it can.” She shook her head and headed for the stairs.

“Seline. ”

She didn’t stop. Her hand curled around the smooth wood of the banister.

“My brother wants me dead.” His rumbling voice followed her. “And the feeling is more than mutual.”

Okay, now that made her stop. Seline darted a fast glance back at him, frowning.

“It’s a race,” he muttered. “We’ll see who gets shoved into the ground first.”

What was she supposed to say to that? “I’m sorry.”

He smiled at her, and the sight wasn’t reassuring. “Don’t be. It’s long past time I ripped Az apart. The world will be a whole lot better once he’s gone.”

“Why?” She shouldn’t ask, but she did anyway. “What’s he done? Why would you turn on your own family?” His words hit too close to home for her.

Turn on your own family. She’d been there, done that, and had the scars to prove it.

“Az sent me to hell,” he said, voice flat.

She laughed at that, a nervous, rough sound. “Ah, you mean it felt like he did—”

“No. The bastard actually sent me to hell.”

All the moisture in her mouth dried away.

Sam stared at her. “What? You don’t think it’s real?” His lips tightened. “News flash. Heaven’s there, so is hell.”

Her heart slammed too fast and too hard into her chest. “With the devil guarding the gates.” She tried to make the words sound flippant.

“Not quite. Not anymore. He’s been out of hell for a while now.” His head tilted toward her. “But you’ll find out the truth soon enough. In the end, we all do.” He held her stare a moment longer, then eased out a slow breath. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we take care of the bastard after you.”

She stared at his dark head. Tomorrow.

Seline hurried up the stairs and found the empty room on the left. She hurriedly pushed the door closed behind her and even flipped the lock.

The bastard actually sent me to hell.

This job wasn’t turning out like she’d thought. Not at all. But there was no going back now. Your brother isn’t the only one who wants you dead, Sam. She strode to the bed and stripped off her clothes. If he wants you, then he can just get in line.

Because Sammael was a wanted man, and when it came to the killers on his trail—well, she was the one he needed to worry about the most. He’d let her get close, and that was an error that could prove fatal for him.

She climbed into the bed, naked, and closed her eyes. Sooner or later, Sam would have to find a bed for himself. Even an all-powerful bad-ass had to sleep sometime. She’d know when he slept, she’d feel it. And the instant his eyes closed . . .

You’re mine, Sam.

“Cole, how much have you turned up on Seline O’Shaw?” Sam held the phone to his ear as he glanced up the curving staircase. No sound came from Seline’s room, and the silence seemed to press onto him.

Sexy. Close.

Dangerous.

“She came to town about six months ago, boss. She went to work at Temptation . . .” Cole’s voice floated easily on the line. The guy wasn’t telling him a single thing he didn’t know. “She’s got an apartment in the Quarter, and her neighbors say she never has any visitors.”

Okay, that stopped him. “No men?” A woman as sexy as her would have lovers, probably lots of them. Men willing to kill for a taste of her.

Or maybe that’s just me.

“Not a single one.”

Odd, but good, because he wasn’t the sharing sort, and that meant he wouldn’t have to kick ass as he cleared territory. Yet . . . something’s off. “She said that she’s on the run from John Moorecroft.”