Jonathan blinked, and his shoulders seemed to slump. “What? They can . . . they can do that?”

Marna laughed. The sound was bitter, not like her. “If they’re strong enough, they can do almost anything.”

Since Cody was a demon, Tanner had learned early on about the power levels among those beings. Some demons were on the low end of the demon power scale, ranked as ones or twos—pretty much humans with a few extra skills. But, while the majority of the demons running loose on the earth were low-levels, there were some badass demons out there.

Demons who tipped the scales by hitting a power level of nine, or even . . . in the worst case situation, ten.

Level-tens were supposed to be able to bring hell to earth. Literally. To be able to control the minds of humans with barely a thought.

He’d heard rumors of one level-ten in Atlanta. A guy named Niol who could destroy a city block with a wave of his hand.

Just another reason why Tanner made it a point not to visit that area.

Was he dealing with a level-ten in New Orleans? If so, they could all be screwed.

“I’m supposed to just believe you, right?” Jonathan blasted, face reddening as he pulled against the cuffs again. “You’ve been lying to me for days. You’re hiding a killer and screwing her—”

Tanner punched him. Jonathan slammed back down to the ground once more.

Marna’s breath whispered out in a soft exhale. Tanner caught her hand and rubbed his fingers over the back of her knuckles. He wasn’t just . . . screwing her. If Jonathan said that again, he’d taste some more cement.

Groaning, Jonathan managed to crawl back to his knees.

“I’m not a killer,” Marna said quietly. Then she added, “Not anymore.”

Jonathan’s head lifted, and he stared at her. Tanner didn’t like that look. Too intense. Too dark.

It’s the way I look at her.

Tanner put his body in front of hers. “I lied to you.” Fine, time to clear the air. “But what the hell was I supposed to do? Tell you that the suspect we were bringing in was an angel of death? That you couldn’t touch her, because she might kill you?” Jonathan didn’t need to know that her touch didn’t work anymore.

No one needed to know that fact. If he could keep her safe by making everyone else think that she was too dangerous to be around . . .

I’ll lie my ass off. And he wouldn’t be sorry about it. Hell, he wasn’t ever sorry. Just another line. Another lie.

Cops weren’t supposed to lie.

Killers were.

Some days, it was so hard to be both.

“She can kill with a touch?” Jonathan managed to stand on his feet with only a slight stagger.

“I told you not to touch me,” Marna said as she stepped around Tanner. “You should have listened.”

The lady still wasn’t lying. Maybe he should learn to twist the truth the way she did. Would that make his conscience any cleaner?

“So you did kill those men in that alley.” Jonathan shook his head. “And you did it with just a touch? No drugs. I thought for—”

“I didn’t kill them.” Marna’s voice was fierce.

“You were seen—” Jonathan began.

“Just the way I was seen on the video,” Tanner cut in. “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t her.” How many times would they have to say it before it sank in for the guy? “A demon is behind the attacks. He took her face, and he took mine, and he was trying to set us both up.”

“Why?” Jonathan demanded. “Why the hell would he do all that?”

“As soon as I find him, you can be sure I’ll make him tell me that.” But Tanner already had suspicions. Why set up Marna? Maybe because the killer had wanted to draw her out. To cut away the safety of her secrecy and push her into the spotlight. The cops had yanked her from her solitude. Left her out in the open.

What would have happened to Marna at the police station if Tanner hadn’t gotten her free?

The suspicion gnawed deeper at his gut. Had getting Marna to the station been the plan all along?

Get her there. Make her vulnerable.

Only maybe the demon hadn’t counted on Tanner getting Marna out so quickly. Getting her out and running with her.

When I ran, you had to set me up, too, didn’t you?

Because the killer had wanted to separate Marna and Tanner.

“There was no evidence left behind,” Jonathan muttered. “The scene in that alley was so clean. Everything pointed back to her.”

“Cops know,” Tanner began as that gnawing suspicion dug deeper, “how to clean up scenes.” And even how to stage them.