She punctuates the final word by poking him in the chest.
Hard.
Ford seems to puff up, his muscles all bunching and tightening as his hands curl into fists. His nostrils flare, the muscles along the side of his face jumping wildly as he grits his teeth.
Trinity falls back a little, losing a bit of her steam in the face of my brother’s anger, but I know Ford isn’t reacting this way just because he’s mad.
It’s because he’s turned the hell on.
To be honest, I kind of am too.
Fuck, that was amazing to watch.
Not a lot of people have ever stood up to Ford, and I’m talking about the entirety of our existence here. Brave men and hardened warriors have turned into quivering little babies when confronted with the force of Wrath’s undiluted rage.
But not Trin.
Well, okay, fine. She is quivering a little bit. But I honestly can’t tell if it’s from fear or anger, and either way, she’s not backing down. Tension builds in the air between the two of them, crackling and electric. Rage is pouring out of Ford, infusing the whole room, but arousal is too. He looks like he’s on the verge of grabbing Trinity and… well, I’m not quite sure what. I have a feeling what he’d like to do is bend her over the counter and fuck her until neither one of them can move.
The thought of watching them hate fuck each other makes my cock twitch, growing semi-hard. I’m tempted to just stand by and let this play out, to see what happens when all that tension between them finally snaps.
But if Henrik has really escaped, that means our window of time to get this portal closed is shrinking. And if we lose that chance, this whole thing is gonna become a much bigger pain in the ass than I have the energy to deal with.
“Much as I hate to break up what would probably be the brawl of the century,” I drawl, “don’t you think it’s more important for us to get moving? We need to use that charm and that demon corpse to close the portal before whoever’s behind this whole thing comes up with a plan to stop us. Right?”
Trinity and Ford both snap their heads up to stare at me. They might’ve forgotten anyone else was even in the room.
The angel is still breathing hard, a wildness in her eyes that makes the dark brown of her irises flash with bronze highlights. She glances back at Ford, seems to realize they’re standing less than an inch away from each other, and hastily slips away from him, nodding as she does.
“Yes. That’s my point exactly. I don’t know how the bookie got away, but the most important thing right now is for us to get the portal closed. After that, we can deal with finding the demon”—she shoots Ford a narrow-eyed look—“who escaped on his own.”
Oh, shit.
I hide a smile behind my hand, pretending to scratch my jaw. Damn, this woman really is feisty.
Ford’s lips press into a thin line, and I know he’s gearing up to go another round with Trin even though I’m pretty sure he’s realized by now that he’s wrong about her letting the demon out of the holding room.
“Nix is right,” Beckett interjects before Ford can speak. He shakes his head, running a hand over his perfectly styled dark hair. “And if Sloth is the one telling us we’d better hurry, then that means we’re truly out of time.”
“Hey, I resent that. Or I would if it didn’t sound like too much work.”
He shoots me a look that’s part amusement and part annoyance, then turns back to the others. “Everyone change into tactical gear. Trin, there’s fight wear in your closet, and leather boots. We can’t afford to lose a good fighter because of a lack of shoes, even if we’ve seen that shoes can in fact be weaponized if you’re lazy enough to use them that way.”
“Again, I resent that,” I drawl. “You call it lazy, others would call it a brilliant tactical move.”
Ford barks a laugh, some of the tension draining from him. “Yeah, like that time Nix got pissed at Sawyer and threw everything within reach at him without ever moving his ass off the fuckin’ couch.”
“Another brilliant tactical move.” I grin. “Why do you think I have so many remotes?”
This time, Remi chuckles, and even Trinity grins. Beckett’s jaw clenches, like he’s wondering how he got saddled with all of us morons, but all he says is, “Get ready. We leave in five.”
It actually takes us ten minutes to leave, and I want to say those extra five minutes aren’t all my fault, but they totally are.
I just don’t like to rush, okay? Especially not when I’m going into a potentially dangerous situation where we plan to reanimate a demon’s corpse to undo a portal creation spell. I mean, this is the kind of shit you don’t want to rush, am I right?
Ford left the demon’s body in the trunk of Beckett’s car instead of carrying it up to the penthouse, which I completely respect. He checks on it to make sure it’s still there, double-checks the charm, and then we all pile into the car again.
We’re all dressed in black tactical wear, and it kind of makes me want to laugh. We look like we belong in a Mission Impossible movie or some shit, and although it’s dark out now, it won’t be for long. Between the fight at the casino and all that time dealing with the witch, we’ve been up almost all night. Morning commuters are gonna wonder why a bunch of ninjas are walking down the street dragging a body.
Trinity’s outfit matches all of ours, and although she looked damn fine in that clingy dress she wore to Heaven’s Gate, she actually looks even better now. She looks more… herself, I guess—not that I’ve really known her long enough to know what her true self is like.
But I kinda feel like I do know, in a way. Trin wears her emotions and almost every single thought she has on her sleeve. She doesn’t put on airs or wear masks. What you see is what you get with her, and right now I see an angel who’s scared shitless but is marching into battle anyway.
It makes a little bubble of affection expand in my chest, and I nudge her with my shoulder to get her attention.
When she looks at me, I grin. “Hey. You like pancakes?”
Her brows pull together in confusion, but she nods.
“Good. After this is all over and the portal’s closed, we’ll have pancakes for breakfast.”
Her eyes light up, and she straightens a little in her seat. “Really? You’ll make pancakes?”
“No.” I feign scandalized shock. “I’ll order pancakes and have them delivered. They’re usually still pretty warm by the time they arrive. Just pop ’em in the microwave and you’re good to go. Sometimes the syrup congeals a little, but then you just spread it with a knife. No biggie.”
“We are not having pancakes delivered,” Remi says with a grimace. “They’re always rubbery, tasteless, and burnt. If you want pancakes so bad, I’ll make some.”
Nudging Trin again, I lean down and whisper in her ear, “Pro tip: if you want Remi to make you food, just threaten to get the worst version possible from somewhere else.”
Her laugh is light and airy, and it might be one of the best damn sounds I’ve ever heard. Remi definitely heard my not-all-that-quiet whisper, but he doesn’t even give me shit for it. His gaze is focused on Trinity too, and the expression on his face is warm and soft.