Dead to Rights (Supernatural Security Force Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

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  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  About the Author

  Dead to Rights

  Supernatural Security Force (book #4)

  By Heather Hildenbrand

  © 2020-2021

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the authors’ imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors.

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  Chapter One

  The male security guard glanced at my badge, frowned, and looked back at my face again. I focused on the Delta insignia sewn into his uniform and tried to look like I was supposed to be here. I’d never seen him before, nor did a single face in this bustling lobby look familiar, but nerves left me trembling where I stood. Level ten demons could storm the damn place, and I’d be less terrified of fighting them than I was of making it past the turnstiles just ahead.

  If my racing heart put him off, the security guard didn’t react. After another cursory look at my picture, he grunted, handed me back the official SSF ID card Starla had messengered over to me last night, and waved me forward.

  I exhaled.

  Not a single word had been exchanged between us, but he’d just given me the keys to the kingdom. Just like that, I’d become the thing I’d wanted to be most in the world.

  An SSF agent.

  Okay, maybe not “just like that” when you considered the months of training, the whole being on the run thing, and vanquishing a bitchy Nephilim who stood in my way.

  But I was here.

  I’d made it.

  Feeling like a damned winner, I marched through the metal detectors that weren’t so much about detecting weapons as they were spelled to strip glamours or anything magic-and-nefarious.

  I hesitated out of habit. But, unlike last time, nothing happened as I crossed the barrier.

  Then, with an exhale of relief and a bit of gut-tightening as I remembered my last visit here, I pushed my way through the turnstiles and hurried for the elevators.

  It was hard to believe only days had passed since sending Selaphiel through a portal to Hell. Okay, honestly, I had no idea where we’d sent her, but I was hoping for someplace terrible. The days since had been quiet by contrast. Too quiet.

  After all that time running and fighting, maybe I needed the rest. But all it had done was wind me up even tighter. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. And in the meantime, that terrifying moment kept playing on a loop in my head.

  Jax ripping out Adrik’s throat.

  Sure, he’d done it to save me. Or that’s what he’d thought. But I couldn’t make myself see past what he’d done. I’d woken from nightmares about it every night since. And being here now, in this place where an enemy still lurked, only set me more on edge.

  This wasn’t over yet.

  But we’d made progress.

  At least, this time, when I visited the upper floors of the Delta building, otherwise known as the headquarters for the Supernatural Security Force, I would do it as a legit employee. No warrants. No Nephilim trying to kill me.

  Just Gem Hawkins, detective, reporting for duty.

  The whole thing seemed so normal after everything else, though a little bittersweet.

  I stepped inside the elevator, crowding in with others who were mostly dressed in the SSF patrol uniform, and thought of my father. Vic Hawkins, senior detective. He’d walked these same halls every day of his career. Probably knew some of the people I was currently forced to cuddle with inside the cramped space.

  Everything I did today, he’d already done.

  And now I was here, honoring his legacy. And cherishing his memory.

  My chest swelled and ached as I thought of him.

  Loneliness hit me, and I sucked in a sharp breath that pricked at my ribs. My father’s death—no, murder—had set all of this in motion. But I was no longer angry about it. Too much good had happened, too. I’d found his killer. And I’d found Adrik.

  That might have made me feel better if he’d actually called me since the other night. But, so far, nothing.

  At first, I’d chalked it up to healing. Of course. Jax had done a number on him. Even with Raphziel’s Nephilim healing power bringing him back, he’d been weak. Tired.

  He needed rest.

  But that was days ago. What the hell was his excuse now?

  The possible answers terrified me. What if he’d decided not to call me anymore? What if he’d changed his mind about me?

  I was too much of a coward to find out, and so I hadn’t called him either.

  Finally, the elevator doors opened on the sixteenth floor, and half the occupants spilled out. When I finally managed to wedge free and step out into the hall, a familiar face waited for me, scowling in his trademark douchebag glare.

  “Good morning, Rigo,” I said with all of the fake, sugary politeness this moment deserved.

  “You’re late,” he said flatly. “Let’s go.”

  “Whoa. I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said, planting my feet as the last remnants of my excitement melted away. His was not the face I wanted for my welcoming committee.

  He turned back, his scowl pinching his brows and mouth. “Don’t start with me, Hawkins. It’s too damn early for your petulance.”

  “Petulance?” I huffed. “You have some fucking nerve. Listen, just because I’m a detective, despite your best efforts to the contrary, does not automatically mean I have to take orders from you.”

  “And that’s where you’re wrong.” His eyes gleamed with fresh enjoyment. This dude was pure fucking douchebag, professional level. “As I am the head detective for the Quarter, and you’ve been assigned to my division, that’s exactly what it means.”

  My jaw dropped.

  No fucking way. Of all of the supervisors I could have been assigned, Starla had put me with Rigo, the guy who’d heard the phrase “copping a feel” and taken it so literally he’d gone into law enforcement? There had to be some mistake.

  “I need to speak to Starla,” I growled.

  “Be my guest. She’s waiting for you in orientation now.”

  I took a deep, steadying breath that would hopefully center me enough that I wouldn’t nut-punch this asshole right here in the foyer of my new workplace.

  “Where is that happening?” I asked through clenched teet
h.

  He waved his arm in the direction he’d already tried leading me. The gesture was dramatic and smug as hell. “Right this way…cadet.”

  I rolled my eyes, cinched my bag higher on my shoulder, and followed him into my career.

  Rigo led me down a short hall that quickly opened up into a large, open space that made up almost half the floor. The outer walls were floor-to-ceiling glass and overlooked the city, offering a view high enough to show only the shiny parts of what awaited below.

  But I didn’t linger too long on the view out there. It was the view inside that mattered most to me today.

  As the sunlight caught on chrome clipboards and swivel chairs, I stopped and stared at the sight before me. Gleaming linoleum and rows of utilitarian desks as far as the eye could see. This was it. The sixteenth floor. The big leagues. I’d finally made it. I inhaled, anticipating the scent of victory, but all that filled my nostrils was the stale smell of burnt coffee and a faint whiff of animal.

  “Are you coming, or should I ask the head of the SSF to hold your orientation meeting here in the doorway?”

  My gaze snapped over to where Rigo waited impatiently.

  “Keep your panties on,” I muttered and resumed my little game of follow the pervy leader.

  In my head, I thought of all of the creative names Gran would call him if she were here. It hadn’t been easy to make her promise to stay home today, and I knew she wouldn’t stay away for long.

  Gran’s commentary was distracting at best. At worst, she’d head right into danger alongside me, and I’d put my loved ones at risk too often lately.

  One day.

  Hopefully, she’d give me that.

  At the back of the room, Rigo stopped and gestured for me to enter the office where the interior view was currently obscured by closed blinds. The layout reminded me a lot of Division 13 and Harvey’s smokey, stale space where he’d first welcomed me into the SSF. Except cleaner, fresher, and with slightly more violence coursing through me than before. Probably because Rigo kept looking at my chest.

  I ignored him and looked over at my new boss.

  Starla sat behind a large, glass-top desk, her plum suit and charcoal heels definitely a contrasting look to Rigo’s wrinkled slacks and faded polo. It might have been empowering, seeing a woman at the helm of an agency as large and important as the SSF, but Starla wasn’t just a woman. And we weren’t here to fight the patriarchy. No, we were up against something a hell of a lot worse. And I still wasn’t entirely convinced I could trust her.

  “Good morning, Gem. Have a seat.”

  Starla gestured to a trio of chairs, one of which Milo already occupied.

  “Hey, partner,” he said brightly.

  Rigo didn’t wait for his own invitation before dropping into the one closest to the door. I took the middle spot, scooting it as far from Rigo as possible before perching tentatively against the seat.

  Milo held out his hand for a fist bump.

  “Where were you? I thought we were driving over together?” I whispered, tapping my knuckles with his.

  “I made a friend last night. Stayed in the Quarter,” he said with a wink.

  I shook my head. Was it a tradition with Milo to have a one-night stand the night before starting a new job? It was a question for later—if I dared even ask it. Maybe I didn’t want to know.

  “Feels good to be on the inside looking out, eh?” he added.

  “I have lots of feelings,” I muttered, aiming a disdainful glare at Rigo. “Not all of them good.”

  Milo snorted, but I looked up at Starla, half-hoping this was all some kind of ruse to lure Rigo to his own firing squad. But when our eyes met, Starla’s smile flashed quickly and then was gone.

  She was all business.

  And none of it seemed to be about putting Rigo in his place.

  “Welcome to you both. I know you’re anxious to get to work, but this won’t take long,” she began. “As you’re both aware, since the agency’s inception, the detective branch of the SSF has operated as an elite division of justice enforcement and peacekeepers among the supernatural community,” Starla said, her voice taking on a sort of historian-lecturer quality. “It’s both an honor and a great responsibility to be selected and promoted to the position of detective. In fact, there is no higher honor at the SSF than that of the protector.”

  I settled into my chair, sure this was going to turn into a full history class now.

  Rigo already looked bored.

  “Because we employ only the most skilled agents within the walls of this department, we take on only the most urgent and important cases,” she went on, and something about her tone sharpened my attention. This was going somewhere—and with Starla, probably somewhere I wouldn’t like.

  “Does that explain why no one wanted to investigate my dad’s death?” I asked. “It wasn’t important?”

  Starla blinked.

  Rigo muttered something I decided not to decipher.

  “Uh, Gem,” Milo began, “I don’t think that’s what she—”

  “As a matter of fact.” She reached over and picked up a file from her desk, holding it out to me.

  “What’s this?”

  “See for yourself.”

  I took the file and read the name. Victor Hawkins.

  My gaze snapped back to Starla’s.

  “I’d like you to do the final paperwork on this one,” she said.

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “You know the case better than anyone.”

  I looked back and forth between her and Rigo.

  “It’s paperwork,” he said smugly. “On a closed case. Not exactly the big leagues.”

  “A closed case you couldn’t solve,” I pointed out and earned myself a scowl. I looked back at Starla. “Thank you for this.” I took the file. “And while I do appreciate it, what’s the trade-off?”

  She laughed, clearly not offended. “You know me well.” But her smile vanished quickly, and I noted the tension lining her expression. If I hadn’t worked with her before, I might have missed the barely-there worry in the line of her brow. “The fact is, Selaphiel’s disappearance hasn’t gone unnoticed. Nor have the diminishing numbers of true demons. Our people know something went down, and they feel deceived.”

  “They know there’s a cover-up,” Milo said.

  “Yes.” Starla’s expression became more strained, and I knew she was thinking about the gatherings that had taken place over the weekend—small groups of supes who’d begun calling for an inquiry into the council’s actions. It had started with some of the new recruits, the cadets most recently graduated from the Tiff—and then promptly laid off when there were suddenly no more demons to catch. But I’d heard enough chatter to know their suspicion had already spread into the general community. Supernaturals wanted answers. I couldn’t blame them.

  I’d also done my best to avoid them.

  I’d worked hard to cross back to the lawful side of things, and I wasn’t about to get caught up in something that would send me back the other direction. The last thing I needed was a supe who knew me as Selaphiel’s last meal.

  Or worse.

  Someone who’d seen my little stunt in that alley when I’d shapeshifted into the form of a Nephilim from Beyond.

  “The protests and unrest in the community are growing more tense by the day. Now, I know you took this job because you wanted to solve cases—to protect your kind against demons—but as you know, Gem, with Selaphiel gone, the demon problem is a thing of the past.”

  “There are still demons out there. The last of the monsters she summoned—”

  “Of course, and we have teams on that right now.” She waved me off, but I couldn’t just let her move on.

  “What about Raguel? Do you have a team on him too?”

  Rigo stiffened.

  Interesting.

  He already knew about Raguel using supes to create demons.

  “Raguel isn’t your priority,” Starl
a said. “Protests that result in violence against our agents is.”

  “I see. So the supernaturals protesting against being attacked by the creatures sent here to protect them—their unrest is more of a priority than the crimes being committed against them in the first place?”

  “It’s a matter of resources,” Starla said in a tight voice.

  “Resources,” I repeated. “And are these resources so vast and powerful that a council of Nephilim can’t handle them?”

  “The council prefers to handle this matter internally.” She cocked her head at me. “I would have assumed he told you this already.”

  “He?” I shook my head, confused—until understanding dawned like a bucket of ice water. “Adrik?” I blurted. “He’s back on the council?”

  Suddenly, Starla’s comment the other night clicked into place. She’d said the majority of the council had voted me back into the SSF. Including Adrik. I’d been too much in shock at the time to understand.

  “Adrik has resumed his role in an attempt to fill the void his sister’s departure has left behind,” Starla said, and I scowled, still reeling.

  He hadn’t told me.

  He hadn’t even called since that night…

  “Anyway, as I said, the council will be handling its own matters internally from here on.”

  “I thought the SSF was internal,” I said.

  Her expression hardened. “It would do you well to remember that we are bound by oath to the council’s priorities,” Starla said firmly. “And right now, the council’s priority is quieting these protests before they turn violent or bring human attention.”

  I sat back, linking my fingers and reading between the lines of all of her political-speak. I hadn’t expected free reign or to be considered above the rules here, but letting the council “handle” Raguel was insane even if that council now included Adrik.

  “Fine. The protests,” I said, forcing thoughts of Raguel aside for the moment. “Have you considered just telling people the truth?” I asked. “About Selaphiel and the demons she summoned?”

  Starla glanced at Rigo with an expression I couldn’t decipher.

  “If we do that, we risk fueling the unrest even further,” she said.