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SINS OF THE ANGELS
Grigori Legacy Book 1
BY LYDIA M. HAWKE
A hard-as-nails cop
Homicide detective Alexandra Jarvis is up against a serial killer unlike any she’s ever encountered. She has neither time nor patience for the arrogant new partner assigned to her in the middle of the case, but he seems hellbent on getting in her way—and under her skin—at every turn.
An undercover hunter
A millennium ago, Aramael sentenced his own brother to eternal exile. Now the fallen angel is back and wreaking murderous havoc in the mortal realm, and it’s up to Aramael to stop him—and to keep the stubborn human police officer out of his path.
A world made to pay for the sins of the angels
With tensions flaring between them and Alex’s uncanny ability to see him for who he really is, Aramael’s mission and his soul are both in serious danger. Can he and Alex work together to capture the fallen one? Or will Aramael end up committing a sin more unspeakable than that of his brother?
Edited for language: *F word
Alex started toward the crumpled, shredded body by the wall, tugging the cell phone from her belt. Trent’s hand snagged her arm, held her tight. No heat this time. Only purpose.
“We have to go.”
Alex’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“We have to go. Now.”
“We’re cops, Trent. We don’t leave a crime scene.” She tugged at his grasp, but he didn’t let go. “What if she’s still alive?”
“She isn’t. There’s nothing you can do here, but if we leave now, while the trail is fresh, we might still find him.”
“Find—you saw him?” Her free hand pushed aside her jacket, drew her gun again as she searched the alley for another presence. She tried to recall details of the figure she thought she’d glimpsed: clothing, hair color, height—
But she envisioned fiery wings instead.
“He’s gone,” Trent said.
She flipped open her cell phone and dialed 911. “Well, if you saw him, he can’t have gone far. We might still find him if we get enough cars in the area—”
Alex broke off as Trent’s grasp tightened. She stared into eyes gone flat and frighteningly cold.
“You’d better hope to Heaven you don’t, Alex Jarvis. Because you don’t stand a chance against him. Not you, and not your entire police force.”
Alex’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t find her voice. And even if she’d had a voice, surely there were no words with which to respond. Long seconds passed. A trickle of rain dripped from the end of her nose.
“Hello? Hello! You’ve reached nine-one-one. What is your emergency? Hello?”
The insistent female voice in Alex’s ear penetrated at the same time two officers burst from the passageway behind her. Alex whirled. Chaos ensued.
Guns drawn, the uniforms screamed at her to drop the weapon and put up her hands. A marked car hurtled into the far end of the alley. Red and blue streaks shattered the gloom. A siren died mid-wail. Behind Alex, footsteps scuffed. Trent. Her heart stalled, and a warning formed in her throat. “Don’t—”
Two shots cut her off, their reports echoing off the brick walls. Alex jerked at the sound, instinctively bracing for pain. Nothing. Ice water washed through her gut as the gunshots faded into silence. Nothing. Not even a whisper of sound from behind her to signal another’s presence.
She threw her arms wide, away from her body. Away from misinterpretation.
Where the hell is Trent?
“We’re cops!” she yelled. “Jesus Christ, hold your fire! We’re f###ing cops!”
The uniform shouted back, his words running together, mingling with the pounding in her ears. Alex couldn’t understand him, but his intent was clear. She dropped to her knees in a puddle. Two shots fired at point-blank range, two cops upset well beyond the ordinary.
Sweet Jesus, they’ve shot Trent.
Her heart clawed its way out of her chest and into her throat.
She strained to hear her downed partner. A moan, a gasp, anything. The police car skidded to a halt somewhere to the left. Car doors opened. Continued bellows from the uniformed officer hammered at her ears. Still no sound from behind her.
They f###ing shot Trent.
Alex felt her control slip. She tightened her grip on it, met and held the uniform’s gaze, forced herself to speak past the rawness burning in her chest where her heart was no more. “I’m with Homicide. My badge is on my belt. It’s right there—you can see it.”
Point-blank, two shots. Why the hell isn’t the other cop moving? Trent needs help. They have to stop the bleeding, call for the paramedics—
The uniform facing her ignored her words. “I said down! On your stomach, hands out!”
A new voice joined the fray. “Back off, Kenney—she’s Homicide!”
Footsteps approached from the side and hands raised Alex to her feet. She stumbled, caught herself, shoved away the help. Water trickled down her shins and into her shoes. Her mind parted company with her body and watched from a distance as she turned to look down on the unimaginable awfulness of a fallen partner. She stared at mud-spattered shoes. Raised her eyes up a suit-clad length. Met Trent’s wary, but still very much alive, gaze.
Deep in her brain, disbelief spawned a small, ominous bubble of hysteria.
Lydia M. Hawke is a writer possessed of both a light side and a dark one. On the dark side, she’s the author of the Grigori Legacy, an apocalyptic urban fantasy series featuring a hard-as-nails cop caught up in the war between Heaven and Hell. In her lighter moments, she writes romances (contemporary and suspense) as Linda Poitevin. And when she’s not plotting the world’s downfall or next great love story, she’s a wife, mom, friend, coffee snob, gardener, walker of a Giant Dog, keeper of many pets, and an avid food preserver (you know, just in case that whole Zombie Apocalypse thing really happens).
Links to Lydia’s website, blog, books, etc.
Thanks, Lydia, for sharing your book with us!
Don’t miss the chance to read this book!