Bree practically gags on the food in her mouth. “I mean, I can’t get into early morning bathroom sex. Besides, I like it when you catch me off guard when I’m sleeping.”
Every last bit of me straightens. “And it’s a hard pass,” I say just as Emily Morgan walks in with her baby Ella dangling from her boob.
Emily, too, is pale as paper—hard not to be when you live in the one place on the planet where the sun doesn’t shine—her dark hair is kinky and billowing in every direction. Emily and I go way back to high school. Come to think of it, just about everyone I know goes all the way back to high school with me. Nevertheless, Em and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye. She was, after all, part of the notorious Bitch Squad who made my life a living hell during those latent adolescent years. But we’ve since mended fences and she’s recently sided with me. I’d like to think she wouldn’t mind if I stepped into her skin for a little while.
Em grunts right at me. “Messenger had better hope I don’t see her today. I might just strangle the life out of her for the way she’s been speaking to me.”
I suck in a quick breath. “Hear that? Rory is a loose cannon.”
Marshall lifts a brow. “I think we gathered that once she arranged for your assassination. Where to next?”
“Let’s try Michelle, Lex, and Nat,” I say, and the next thing I know we’re standing in the living room at Whitehorse where Lexy and Michelle are enjoying a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs.
Lexy Bakova is a lean, mean—emphasis onmean—Fem fighting machine. Only she’s not so hot on actually fighting them. Or at least she wasn’t. Now that she’s sided with me, I’m looking forward to binding a few Fems right alongside her. She’s still the same trim and fit girl I knew in high school, same deep olive skin, same copper hair that’s cut into a precision bob that hugs her jawbone. And with every passing year, Lexy Bakova gets a little more aggressive, like an unloved pet that slowly goes rabid.
Michelle Oliver, nee Miller, has always looked strictly a lot like Chloe. Same long dark hair with a hint of red highlights, same glowing wicked eyes. Michelle is by far the intellectual inferior when it comes to the two, but then Chloe is basically an evil mastermind.
I guess I should be thankful her marriage to Wes didn’t work out because the two of them would have been a force to be reckoned with. And they will be now that they’re working for Celestra.
However, Michelle’s love life is no better than Chloe’s. She had a brief marriage to Logan’s brother Liam before Lexy decided she wanted him for herself, thus causing any matrimonial bliss Michelle and Liam shared to unravel. Lexy tried to unravel Logan’s love for me about a year ago, but that backfired spectacularly for her. It was because of that, he realized that only I could satisfy his heart.
Michelle moans with delight as she takes a bite out of her glistening bacon. “Who said Keto sucked? I’ve lost ten pounds in a week.”
Lexy rolls her eyes. “You didn’t lose ten pounds. Nat recalibrated the scale last week.”
A heavy scoff comes from behind, and I turn to find Natalie Coleman barreling into the room, her robe hanging open, exposing her cinnamon skin, her boobs flopping back and forth untethered at the moment. Her dark hair is locked in tight kinky coils as it dusts over her shoulders. I’ve always commiserated with Nat about the hair thing since mine is basically a blonde version. Paragon’s weather does nothing to benefit my tresses, but for some reason, Nat’s curls seem immovable as iron springs.
“Way to go, Bakova.” Nat shoves Lex on the shoulder on her way to the fridge. “I manipulated the scale to make you feel better, Miller. Bakova doesn’t have a heart. That’s why she didn’t mind spoiling the surprise.”
I give a little laugh as I look to Marshall. “It’s true. Lex is a monster in Nephilim skin.”
Nat belches and Lexy gives her the finger.
Michelle rolls her eyes and shovels another heaping forkful of eggs into her mouth.
I nudge Marshall in the ribs. “Which one are you thinking? They’re all single, so I won’t have to worry about rebuffing any sexual advances. Nat could give a rat’s ass what anybody thinks—people expect that behavior from her. I could really work with that.
“Michelle is pretty neutral. No one really has an aversion to her either. And I could smooth things out with Liam if she wanted me to. But no hanky-panky. I don’t care how much he looks like Logan. Chloe gets along great with her, too. And then there’s Lexy.”
A brief visual of Lex and me trapped in the same body bounces through my mind and a mean shiver runs through me.
“No, definitely not Lex. All she thinks about is Logan. And she’s never had a nice thought about me—well, maybe one, but it was short-lived and fleeting. The last thing I want is to be privy to her fantasies about Logan. I’d end up strangling myself just to snuff the life out of her.”
Marshall gives a long blink. “Then that’s the one we’ll go with. Let’s get to it so we can get a move on with more important things, namely restoring the Sectors to their rightful standing.”
“Marshall”—I squawk, incensed—“not funny. And this is not all about you and your sexy Sector brothers in arms.” I blow out a quick, not quite needed breath. “Okay, fine. It’s just as much about the Sectors as it is Celestra. But let’s be serious, Lexy and I would be a nightmare. Who’s next?”
“How about Mia or Melissa?”
A hard groan comes from me. “Mia is getting busy with Revelyn Booth, Dr. Booth’s oddball biker son.” Although he has cleaned up for Mia as of late. He put away the whips and chains, shaved down that critter that lived on his face, and morphed into the Wolf of Wall Street. “Mia would kill me if I denied her that daily dose of Rev she seems to require. And I have it on good authority Melissa is sleeping with Gabriel Armistead. Come to think of it, anybody who’s slept with Gabriel Armistead is off my list. Both Mia and Melissa are defiled by default.” Mia was married to the guy for like five hot and messy minutes.
Marshall narrows those glowing eyes over mine. “That leaves a small pool of potential suspects.”
“It does? I can’t think of any.”
He nods my way. Marshall Dudley looks serious as a heart attack.
“It leaves just one, Ms. Messenger.”
