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At Jericho’s approach, Adam glanced up and rolled down the window. “Cell phone coverage isn’t great here. Might be better if we head down the road farther.”

The comm units they preferred would be too conspicuous at Howlers. As would Jericho’s favorite pair of matched karambit blades, although he’d still managed to conceal a small arsenal under his leather jacket.

“This is as far as you go,” Jericho said. “If Liam’s customers notice you, he’ll pull the plug on the whole thing.” It still didn’t sit right, disregarding Liam’s demand that they not involve the rest of the guard. Again, with Victor and Liam, he walked a razor’s edge between loyalty and duty. Unfortunately, Victor insisted, and Jericho had no choice but to follow his orders. At least they’d agreed to maintain their distance.

Slade leaned over the center console, the sterling loop in his arched brow gleaming. “Do your job, and your little fuck buddy will never know we were here.”

Jericho ignored the taunt. The tattooed demon was constantly trying to get a rise out of him and failing. “As we discussed, Colin and I will take lead,” Jericho said. “The two of you will only intervene if necessary. Liam’s contact confirmed. He’s meeting him after the poker tournament.”

Adam rubbed his palm over his buzz-cut head, concern evident even in the darkness. The level-headed male had been strangely tense about this plan from the beginning. “It’s a shame we can’t wait in the parking lot.” Again, he pushed. “I don’t like being a mile away if things go sideways.”

Slade snorted. “Inside, outside, doesn’t matter. Twenty bucks says the dealer recognizes you ugly bastards and bails, leaving Adam and me to clean up your mess.”

“Just stick to the plan,” Jericho said.

“You’re the boss,” Adam relented, not one for arguing. “If our target gets past you, we’ll be ready.”

Jericho nodded, headed back to the Charger, and throttled the car onto the asphalt.

Colin snickered, smiling so big his teeth practically lit up the car’s interior. That smile warned Jericho he was in for a long night.

“What?”

“Finally got you out of Claymore for that drink. I’m thinking your friend Liam is a miracle worker.”

Jericho gripped the steering wheel. “Just focus on the mission.”

“Oh, I’m focused. Focused on the fact I get to sit in a bar and drink Purple Mambas instead of tromping through an abandoned warehouse.”

Minutes later, they tucked the Charger into a ding-free part of the gravel parking lot and headed into Howlers.

“Bad Moon Rising” blasted from the speakers as they cut a path to a table. Many of the chairs were empty tonight since the biggest draw was the poker game in the backroom. With any luck, that game would be ending soon. Liam would meet with the dealer, and Jericho would haul the bastard to Claymore, where he’d be questioned, then executed.

Simple.

Colin arched his back and flexed his arms over his head. Feminine heads swiveled in their direction. As usual, Colin’s pretty-boy looks drew the kind of attention Jericho didn’t need nor desire.

The smirk on Colin’s face said he enjoyed the interest. “I’m the bloodhound, and you’re the hunter, right?”

“When the situation demands,” Jericho amended.

Colin met eyes with a woman in a leather corset and sent her a lusty wink. The female licked her cherry-red lips and crooked her finger, beckoning him closer. “Good. Think I’ll make a quick lap and flush out the doves.”

Before Jericho could object, Colin was gone. At times, his partner was difficult to direct, but once he zeroed in on his prey, the male was a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, that focus was usually off target.

Jericho glanced across the room and found himself impaled by a pair of forest-green eyes. Caught staring, Alex startled and spun, giving him her back. For a creature known for deceit, she was sadly transparent.

Liam’s Chosen was beautiful, he’d give him that, with her long mane of red hair—currently cinched up in a ponytail—sparkling eyes framed by thick lashes, and winsome smile. Unlike the other women in the bar, she didn’t fuss with her appearance, wearing minimal makeup or jewelry. The tight Howlers T-shirt, jeans, and biker boots did little to obscure her curves. Though she wasn’t as busty as Liam usually preferred, she had an ass that could inspire poetry. Jericho’s blood warmed, his admiring gaze traveling south.

Fuck.He shook his head.In the bar five minutes, and she’s affecting me.His gut clenched. And Liam thought she was incapable of wielding her whiles on him. Never again, witch.

Alex braced her hands on the counter, heaved a visible breath, and straightened. Summoning her courage? She’d need it if she planned to tangle with him. He firmed his jaw and braced for her next move.

Slowly, she turned. In her hand was a bottle of Basil Hayden.She remembered?He frowned. Of course, she remembered. That’s how her kind operated, after all. Study, adapt, manipulate, then strike. Just like…Her. No. He shut the memory down before it could rise.

The picture of innocence, Alex cocked her head and jiggled the bottle. Like Colin’s female in the leather corset, she believed him captivated. She was wrong. Over the years, he’d erected enough mental shields that not even the most powerful of faeries could breach his defenses.

The Basil Hayden was a lure or a bribe. Either way, he was leery of her motives.