Morning didn’t arrive gracefully. It slapped me in the face with an open palm, or at least it felt like that on account of the massive headache reverberating through my skull. I groaned and pressed my face into the pillow, blindly hoping its coolness would soothe my pain. No such luck.

A handful of minutes rolled by before I felt well enough to lift my head. Inch by inch, I withdrew from the pillow and tilted my face to look at the other bed. Michael wasn’t in it. The clock read half past noon. Where had he gone?

Suppressing another moan of pain, I forced myself to sit up and ran my fingers through my incredibly mussed black hair so I could see. I shuffled over to the table against the far wall and found the Advil. Three pills would do the trick, or at least make me numb enough not to care. I drank some water from the sink to get them down and eyed the tepid water with distaste. Ice dispenser down the hall. Field trip.

My clothes from last night were still on, so I just slipped on my shoes and stuffed the keycard to the room in my pocket before leaving. The yellow-tinted hallway showed no signs of life. People in New Jersey liked to sleep in. My kind of town.

As I walked closer to the area where the ice dispenser and vending machines were, I could hear a familiar male voice. Confused, I peeked around the corner and spotted Michael facing the wall opposite me, speaking into his cell phone. The reception in the rooms was awful so he had to make calls out here. Good sense told me to go around the corner and tell him good morning but his next sentence stopped me.

“I know He wants to see me, brother. What was I supposed to do? She was drunk.”

My heart nearly skipped a beat. Wait, what was he talking about? I flattened myself against the wall and tried to remember last night. I had a few beers and went back to the hotel room. Michael had carried me back to the bed. We had a little chat and I…kissed him. Christ.

I palmed my forehead, feeling the blood rush out of my face. Idiot. Lauren had told me before that I got a bit slutty when drunk, and obviously she’d been right. Now the Big Guy wanted to have a little discussion with Michael all because I couldn’t keep it in my pants for one night. Shit.

My attention reverted back to the phone call. Gabriel’s calming voice wafted to my ears. The call wasn’t on speakerphone, but the volume was relatively loud.

“I don’t blame you for that, Michael. You know I don’t.”

“That makes one of you. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“It’s a test, Michael. One that you should take very carefully.”

“She’s not a test, she’s a person. You know that better than I do.”

“Of course I do. Your situation is the test. All of the angels here on Earth have dealt with the desires of man except for you. It’s something we have to overcome. You will do the same in time.”

I heard him sigh in a frustrated sort of way. “That’s just it, Gabe. I…part of me doesn’t want to overcome it. Part of me wants what I know I can’t have. What can I do about that?”

“I can’t give you a definite answer, brother. However, ask yourself this question: which part of you wants her—the angel or the man?”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know.”

“When you do know, you’ll have found the solution to your problem.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Please do. Remember, this isn’t just about the two of you. Your duty as Commander hangs in the balance as well. As much as you care for Jordan, you can’t forget that. Your heart’s never steered you wrong before. Listen to it.”

“Yes, brother. I will.”

“Good. Take care.”

I hurried back down the hall and slipped inside the room, heart hammering in my throat. No. This wasn’t the time to have a freak out. I slowed my breathing bit by bit and squared my shoulders. Gabriel was right. Michael wasn’t just a charming bodyguard. He was Commander of God’s Army in Heaven. He would exist forever in that role and there was nothing either of us could do to change it. It didn’t matter how I felt about him. I wouldn’t be responsible for him jeopardizing his mission. We both had a job to do in this world and we were damn well going to do it.

The door opened and Michael appeared just as I began gathering my clothes to go take a shower. “Oh, you’re awake. I thought I’d have to scrape you off the mattress to get you up.”

“We have a lot of stuff to do today. Figured it was time to get moving.” I kept my voice professional and without emotion.

He shut the door and brushed past me. I nearly stumbled trying to make wider space between us as he passed by.

Michael blinked at me, confused. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a little while.” Without another word, I shut myself in the bathroom. Well, that had gone well. I just needed a stuttering problem and Tom Cruise and I’d be all set.

Today was going to be a long day. Definitely, definitely going to be a long day.

“So where exactly are we meeting this guy?”

“Just through here,” Michael replied, beckoning me as he found the right alley. The rain had finally left the city alone, but the concrete was still slick underfoot. I was happy to be wearing my Reeboks. I felt sorry for the ladies strolling around in pumps today. It was hard enough to stay upright in tennis shoes.

“Gabriel said that our contact would meet us outside this bar around three o’clock.”

I hopped over a partially disintegrated cardboard box, breathing in through my mouth as we passed by the overflowing dumpsters on both sides of the brick walls. We came to stop in front of the knob-less metal door that led to a local dive bar.

The ghosts we interviewed earlier today had revealed startling news. Several of them were not from New Jersey, which didn’t sound that shocking at first until we found out they were from across the country—one even hailed from Michigan. Two others were from Illinois. They all said the same thing: they felt compelled to walk to New Jersey, to where we were, but they couldn’t explain why. Their needs to cross over had been pushed to the background of their residual minds. Gabriel and Michael agreed—there was a holy item involved.

“If that’s true,” I said. “What are we bargaining for this information? Nothing important, I hope.”

“Not that I know of. Gabriel told me this particular demon doesn’t want money or power or any of the usual bribes.” He started to say more, but the door flew open and a tanned, spindly man strolled towards us. His head was shaved bald and he had a long, narrow nose with brown-blonde eyebrows, giving his face a severe look in the afternoon sun. Other than the frown lines in his forehead, he didn’t seem all that intimidating, especially since he wore an unbuttoned black dress-shirt, white t-shirt beneath it, and jeans. He didn’t bother checking the alleyway since it was long and hidden from the main roads on both sides. Secluded. Dangerous. Sounds like somewhere a demon would like.

“I’m guessing you’re my contact, right?” the man said, revealing that he had a thick Australian accent.

Michael’s face had become unreadable. “Depends. What kind of information are you selling?”

The demon smirked. “We don’t discuss that until we discuss my fee.”

Michael cocked his head to the side. “What exactly is your fee?”

The man rolled his neck, the thin smirk elongating. “A fight.”

Michael stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing like a good scrap every now and then. I don’t really get one of good caliber these days. Humans are all soft little meat-jackets. Ya look like ya can put up a good one, for an angel,” he added, his upper lip curling with a sneer.

Michael’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t say anything rude. “We don’t have time for this. There has to be something else you want.”

“Well…” The demon’s blue eyes fell on me and an unpleasant light flickered in them. “If ya don’t want to fight me, let me give ya girl here a kiss.”

In an instant, my spine stiffened. I sent him a nasty glare. “Trust me, you don’t want any of this, pal.”

He grinned. “I’ll be the judge of that, love.”

The demon reached for me. I went for the gun holstered at the small of my back, intending to draw and maybe blow off one of his toes, but Michael appeared between us in an instant.

“Touch her and I’ll feed you that hand finger by finger,” the archangel growled.

The demon laughed, an arrogant bray that echoed down the empty alley, and stepped back with his hands held up in surrender. “Now that’s more like it. Gimme a good fight and I’ll give ya the information. Deal?”

“Deal.” Michael shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it on the ground behind him, leaving him in a cream long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and boots. Except for his height, he didn’t seem all that scary until I noticed the murderous expression in his eyes.

I touched his arm, murmuring his name, and he glanced down at me. “You’re not fighting for my honor, y’know. Calm it down, pretty boy.”

His shoulders relaxed a little bit at the use of “pretty boy” and some of that righteous fury drained from his face.

“I know.”

“Good. Now be a dear and wipe the floor with this moron.”

Michael spared me a wicked but dazzling smirk. “Will do.”

The archangel straightened his posture as he turned to face the demon, who had shed his wrinkled outer shirt. He spread his legs in a wide stance and raised his fists to chest level.

“So who, exactly, do I have the honor of fighting today?”

Michael went with a side stance. “Michael.”

“Mm. I thought it was you. The pretty one.”

Michael’s jaw twitched again. I pressed my back to the wall, safely out of range of either man. I didn’t want to be anywhere near this demon when the archangel snapped.

“I’m not sure if you’ll be much of a threat without that fancy sword of yours, but let’s see what you’ve got.” The demon rushed him, turning into a t-shirt-clad blur, but his speed meant nothing. Michael brought his right foot around in a perfect spinning side kick—which struck the demon right in the nose and floored him in half a second. My jaw dropped. So did the demon’s.

He sputtered on the ground as blood blossomed from his nostrils down into his mouth, blue eyes wide with shock.

Michael lifted an eyebrow, his voice flat. “Was that an acceptable answer?”

The demon spat blood onto the ground and grinned, wiping his mouth clean with his forearm. “Ain’t that a bitch? First blood goes to the angel. Looks like Luka’s got his work cut out for him.”

“Maybe Luka should stop referring to himself in the third person before he gets kicked in the face again,” I said with a sweet smile.

He tossed a dirty look in my direction, which made me smile wider, and scrambled to his feet in an attempt to regain at least an ounce of dignity. Too late for that.

All at once, the demon seemed to change as he faced Michael this time. He rolled his shoulders, causing a few ligaments to crack, and resumed the stance he had before, but it was slightly different—more solid, more balanced, and definitely more serious.

He darted forward. Michael met him in mid-stride, blocking a vicious punch aimed at the angel’s throat. Michael grabbed Luka’s wrist with one hand and seized him beneath the arm, whirling and throwing him over his shoulder.

The demon twisted his body in mid-air and landed in a crouch—a movement that looked eerily inhuman. In an instant, he lunged towards Michael again, this time leading with a side kick that shoved the angel back into the brick wall behind him. Luka immediately closed the distance between them, sending a flurry of punches at his face and upper torso. Michael dodged to the side and kneed Luka in the stomach, hard enough to gain room to move away from the wall.

Luka flew into a series of kicks that were so fast I had trouble following them—front kick, crescent kick, a high one aimed at the shoulder, another aimed low at the knees—and Michael avoided them with liquid grace, blocking the ones that were too fast to dodge.

Luka finally managed to catch his left foot behind Michael’s right ankle and jerked him off-balance, wrapping an arm around his neck to choke him. Michael threw his head backwards, knocking it against Luka’s already damaged nose, and elbowed him in the gut. Luka collapsed against the wall and shook off the momentary pain, his face white with anger. Michael wore a placid, almost serene expression, maybe because he had the demon on his last legs. Luka spat out another mouthful of blood from his ruined nose and closed in, his muscles coiled tight with tension.

He faked a high kick, causing Michael to jerk backward involuntarily, and kneed him in the groin, grabbing a handful of the angel’s hair and forcing him to his knees. Luka threw his arm around his neck and squeezed. Michael dug his hands into the demon’s forearm, struggling to get free. I took several steps forward without noticing, my hand reaching for my gun.

Then, Michael grabbed Luka’s right hand and broke his thumb. The demon screamed in agony, letting go. The archangel grabbed him by the arm and slammed into the concrete face-first, forcing him into an arm lock.

“Yield,” Michael ordered, shoving his knee into the demon’s spine so he couldn’t get up. Luka let loose an unearthly growl, glaring daggers at the angel over his shoulder.

“You son of a—”

Michael tightened his grip, causing another stream of curses to leave the pinned demon. “I won’t tell you a second time.”

“Alright, ya bloody bastard! I give!” Luka snarled. Michael narrowed his eyes before slowly releasing him and taking a couple steps back. Luka rolled over and cradled his injured hand.

“Great. This’ll take weeks to heal. I s’pose I owe ya an apology, but I can’t exactly offer ya a handshake.”

Michael nodded once. “For what it’s worth, your form was excellent.”

Luka snorted. “Don’t need your compliments. What is it ya wanna know?”

Michael exhaled and the tension in his body finally relaxed. “Jordan and I have been observing extremely unusual soul traffic in this city. We encountered a large group of ghosts in the park, some from completely different states. They have no recollection as to why they traveled so far or why they felt compelled to come here. We believe that a holy item is involved.”

Luka paused. “There’s been rumor that the boss has something new in the works. Not quite as grand as stealing an angel’s body, either.”

I made a scornful noise in the back of my throat. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that.”

Luka switched his gaze to me instead. “He said he wants to create something, rather than take what was never his to begin with. Ya can quote me on that. Ya said something about the ghosts being drawn to one spot, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well right there, you’re lookin’ at something small. The larger holy items affect the living and the dead. If it’s only affecting the ghosts so far, it’ll be something that’s connected to death. Most likely, it’s something like the True Cross.”

I gaped. “The Cross Jesus Christ was crucified on?”

Luka nodded. “The very same.”

“But I thought it was never recovered.”

“It wasn’t. But that don’t mean someone didn’t find a piece of it.”

I glanced up at Michael, who wore a deeply worried expression. “Is that really possible?”

“Perhaps. Last I heard, the True Cross was destroyed in order to prevent either side from utilizing it. However, I did not oversee its destruction. It was entrusted to one of the twelve disciples. If he was not careful enough, a piece may have survived.”

Michael nodded to Luka once more. “Thank you for the information.”

Luka shrugged. “Thanks for the fight. It’s been ages since I’ve gotten my ass handed to me. Pretty refreshing.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Are all demons psychotic, violent perverts?”

Luka tossed me a feral grin. “Only the lucky ones. Later, love.”

He knocked twice on the door to the bar and it opened, leaving us alone in the alley to absorb what he’d told us.

Michael scooped up his leather jacket and said nothing, instead heading back the way we came. It wasn’t until we reached our hotel room that he spoke. “If Luka was right, then we’re going to be on high alert for an attack. Satan does not directly interfere on Earth, and that most likely means he’ll be sending Mulciber or Belial along to do his dirty work.”

I rooted through my suitcase for the small First-Aid kit I’d packed. “And if all of this is going down in New Jersey the week we just so happen to be here, then that probably means it has something to do with me, doesn’t it?”

Michael sighed. “Probably.”

“I figured as much.” I walked over and pushed him so that he sat down. He stared up at me in question. I pointed to his left cheek where a small cut lay beneath his eye.

“You’re injured.”

“It’ll heal by itself.”

“Not if it’s infected. Hold still.” I poured a bit of alcohol on a cotton ball and pressed it to the wound. He winced a bit. Maybe he’d been sucking it up.

“That was pretty impressive. Remind me to never pick a fight with you.”

“Not that you don’t do it anyway.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, don’t even go there. You give me lip all the time and yet you threatened to dismember a man for touching me.”

He scowled, looking away as I opened a Band-Aid. “That’s different.”

“Sure it is.” I pressed the Band-Aid to his skin and dusted off my hands.

“Any other injuries I need to know about?”

“Not sure.” Before I could say anything, he yanked off his shirt and walked over to the bathroom mirror. I cleared my throat and concentrated on putting the small pack of cotton balls neatly back into the First Aid kit. If I ignored the shirtlessness, maybe it wouldn’t affect me. Maybe.

“Mm. Doesn’t look too bad,” Michael noted. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him touching a couple of bruises on his perfect washboard abs. Er, his abs. Pay attention, Amador, he’s talking to you.

“He was tougher than he looked.”

“Well, if he actually lived in Australia at some point, he had to learn how to fight. Everything on the continent tries to kill you.” I closed the kit and setting it aside to dig deeper in the suitcase. Later tonight would be my second not-date with Terrell and I had packed an outfit in case Michael and I went to dinner somewhere nice. Or so I thought.

When I got to the bottom of the suitcase, I didn’t find a modest burgundy dress with sensible straps and a high neckline. What I found instead was the slinkiest, revealing-est, attention-getting-est black dress I had ever seen in my life.

“What. The hell. Is this?!” I seethed. The Neiman Marcus tag was still on it. I had never set foot in a Neiman Marcus store in my life. But I knew someone who did. Someone busty, Korean, and annoyingly forward.

Michael gave me a confused look. “What’s wrong?”

“This is not the dress I packed. This is the kind of dress you wear when you want to get molested on the ride home from prom!” I shouted, shaking the dress with emphasis.

Michael coughed, attempting to hide a chuckle, and walked over to examine it. “How’d it get in there?”

“My ex-best friend. She must have repacked my suitcase before we left,” I grumbled, tossing the offensive article of clothing on the bed in defeat. I didn’t have enough money left to get a different dress and I wasn’t going to ask Michael for any. He’d done enough for me already. Meaning I’d have to squeeze into this thing and be Terrell’s arm candy for the night.

“What exactly is the problem anyway? Why do you even need a dress?”

I hesitated. I forgot that I hadn’t told Michael about the not-date tonight. Fantastic. “Oh. Terrell invited me out again tonight to escort him to some black tie affair.”

Michael stared at me. I fidgeted. “Stop that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes you are. You’re mentally judging me.”

He frowned. “How would you know that unless you subconsciously knew you were doing something unwise?”

I crossed my arms beneath my chest. “I don’t have to answer that question. It’s not a big deal. It’s one stupid event. We’ll be leaving Jersey soon enough and it won’t matter anyway.”

“You heard what Luka said. Something is going to happen soon. Do you really want to be out on your own tonight when Belial or Mulciber could be hiding around any corner?”

I glared at him. “I can take care of myself, Michael.”

“No one’s asking you to!” he yelled, making me jump. The angel turned away, raking his hand through his hair with a haggard sigh.

“Look, Jordan, you’re not alone any more. It’s my job to protect you while I’m here and I can’t do that if you keep pushing me away.”

“That’s the problem, Michael,” I shot back. “You have more responsibilities to your boss than you do to me. You taught me how to defend myself, how to heal myself, and that should be good enough. You can’t keep babysitting one little human when you have an entire cosmos to worry about.”

He faced me again, those green eyes boring into mine as if he could see straight through me. “Are you saying you want me to leave?”

My chest tightened. I hadn’t expected him to say that. I bit my bottom lip, glancing away. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“Since when have I ever known what the hell I mean?”

He touched my right cheek, making me face him. “You do when it counts.”

Staring up at him, shirtless, vulnerable, and wounded, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. He had a knack for picking my walls apart brick by brick. It bothered me.

He took a step closer, casting a shadow over me.

“Stop,” I mumbled, fixing my eyes on the floor. He brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, sliding his warm hand to lift my chin so I’d have to look at him.

“Stop what?” he murmured.

“Looking at me.”

“Why?”

“That’s how Terrell used to look at me before we kissed.”

His lips parted to say something but I pushed past him, gathering up my duster from where it lay on the bed next to the dress.

“Get dressed. We have more ghosts to help.”