Calling All Angels (The Shadow Council Case Files Book 1) Read online

  “You gonna stay up to kiss Ginny goodbye?” Her mother didn’t put anything extra into her tone: the recrimination was all there without any help.

  Jo nodded as she turned to walk to the bathroom. “I’ll stay up ‘til she gets on the bus, then I’m crashing for a few hours.” She pulled her hoodie over her head as she walked down the hall to the bathroom. She opened the door to the “master” bedroom, more a name than anything designating extra size in the compact little home. She stripped and slipped on a robe before padding back down two doors to the bathroom.

  She turned the water on until steam poured from the shower, then stepped under the near-scalding spray. The heat immediately started to soak into her abused shoulders and arms, making her eyelids heavy. She snapped awake as the door to the bathroom opened, but she relaxed as she made out the form of her ten-year-old daughter Ginny through the gauzy shower curtain.

  “Morning, Mama,” the little girl said as she sat on the toilet.

  “Good morning, Ginny-girl.” Jo forced her voice into a chipper, high-pitched thing that Shelton and the girls at the gym would never recognize.

  “Did you win?” Ginny asked, flushing the toilet.

  “Yes, I did,” Jo said, raising her arms over her head and letting the water beat down along her ribcage. She felt the knots slowly ease on her sides, soothing the tense muscles that Marla had pounded earlier.

  “Did you hurt the other lady?”

  “Not very much, sweetie. I put her in an arm bar and she tapped out. She was a smart lady, and she knew she was beat.” Jo saw no point in hiding what she did from her daughter. It was a lot easier to explain to her that she was doing MMA at night than trying to make up some lie about why she came home with split lips and bruises all the time. Plus, doing what Ronda Rousey did on TV got Jo some “cool mommy” points, and Ginny was fast approaching the age where those would be in short supply.

  “That’s good. You shouldn’t hurt people,” Ginny said with the conviction of a child who knows everything in the world is black and white.

  Jo smiled at her daughter’s voice. “That’s right, sweetie. You shouldn’t hurt people. Now you go get ready for school and let Mommy get some clothes on.”

  “Okay,” Ginny said. Jo watched through the curtain as the door opened, then closed after the girl. She pulled the shower curtain aside and looked at herself in the mirror. Looking a little rough, Joanna. Gotta stop pulling these all-nighters for no pay. Might be time to hit up Luke about Council members drawing a salary. Or at least get a group insurance plan. God knows I go through enough painkillers working for those fools.

  She got out of the shower and toweled off, slipping into clean underwear and sweatpants with a tattered Arizona Cardinals t-shirt. She walked barefoot down the hall to the table, then took a seat next to Ginny.

  “What are you doing in school this week, honey?” Jo asked.

  “Fractions in math, and in drama we’re doing a scene from Alice in Wonderland. I’m the Mad Hatter.” Ginny grinned up at her mother, a little dribble of milk running down her chin. “Ms. Holman says I’m the maddest hatter she’s ever seen.”

  “I bet you are, baby. I bet you are,” Jo said.

  “Will you be home tonight, Mommy? I can show you my part.” The girl’s enthusiasm jabbed a dagger into Jo’s gut and twisted.

  “I can’t, sweetie. I have to work again.”

  Disappointment flashed across the girl’s face, but it fell away as Cassandra sat down at the table with half a grapefruit and two pieces of toast on a plate. “I’ll be here, honey-bear. We can make a video on my phone and your mama can see it when she gets home.”

  Jo shot her mother a grateful look, then stood at the sound of a car pulling up outside. “There’s Katie’s mom,” she said to Ginny. “Get your backpack and lunch.”

  The girl did as she was told, then kissed her mother and grandmother, and dashed out into the sunny morning. Jo locked the door behind her, then sat down at the table across from her mother.

  “Thank you for that,” Jo said.

  “I know what you’re doing is important, honey...”

  “I know, but she’s important, too. It’s just...what I’m doing, with the Council? It could literally change the world. The stuff we did in Atlanta saved lives, maybe everybody’s lives. It’s...surreal, you know?”

  “Oh honey, I know. Your daddy wasn’t even in the Council when we got married. That damn Luke came to him just a few weeks after our first anniversary. If I’d known who he was, I never would have invited that fool into my home.” Cassandra took a sip of her coffee, then smiled at Jo. “You know that ain’t true, neither. Your daddy never would tell me any of the stuff he got up to with Luke and those people, but sometimes he would come home all battered and beaten, but smiling. He had that same smile you got on your face right now, thinking about what y’all did in Atlanta. I knew that he was helping people, just like you are. And I know that my way of helping those people is to let you go do what you do.”

  The women sat at the table for another few minutes, then Jo stood up. “I’ve got to go get some sleep, Mama. Will you make sure I’m awake by two? If I get up then, I’ll have time to get some work done before I have to go to the club tonight.”

  “You fighting two nights in a row?”

  “Yeah,” Jo said. “I’m moving up the card. Maybe tonight is the night I finally get to meet him.”

  “I hope so, honey. But you never did explain it to me. What in the world is the Archangel Michael doing beating up people in an illegal fight club in Phoenix?”

  “I have no idea, Mama. I don’t even know if he knows who he is. But that’s why I’m there—to find him, to make him remember his duty, and get him back in Heaven where he belongs.”

  “And what you gonna do if he don’t want to go?” Cassandra asked.

  Joanna grinned at her mother, then cracked her knuckles. “Well, Mama. I’m a fighter. If he don’t want to do what’s got to be done, I reckon I’m gonna have to kick an angel’s ass.”

  3

  I might have spoken too soon about kicking anybody’s ass, much less Michael’s, Jo thought as she shook her head to clear the cobwebs. It was the beginning of the third round, and she was pretty sure she was behind on points. Not that things were very scientific in Shelton’s club—if the match went to time, he decided who won. And that, more often than not, had as much to do with where the money was laying than with number of punches thrown.

  Her opponent was a thick-bodied woman who looked like the poster child for the 1980 Soviet women’s shot put team. She had boulders for shoulders and biceps the size of Jo’s thighs. And her fists felt like blocks of cement crashing into Jo’s upraised forearms.

  A kick slammed into Jo’s thigh, and she took a step back, anticipating the other woman’s next move. She was right, the blonde behemoth shot in, trying for a single-leg takedown, but Jo met her with a stiff left that landed behind her ear and rocked the big woman for the first time in their match. Jo followed up with a flurry of strikes, raining punches to the sides of the other woman’s head. She knew a knockout wasn’t coming, but if she could create just enough frustration to make to giantess drop her guard, she might have a chance.

  In a flash, the opening she was looking for appeared. After a stinging left to the other woman’s ear, Jo saw her guard slip for just a fraction of a second. But it was enough. She darted forward and jammed her flat belly up against the woman’s shoulder, sliding her right arm around her opponent’s head and neck, then cinching the front choke tight before the big woman could block the hold.

  I’ve got you now...oh shit! Jo smacked hard into the cage with her back as the larger woman picked her up and bull-rushed her across the octagon. Her spine met the support beam with a jarring crash, but she kept the choke applied as though her life depended on it. Which, judging by how pissed off the woman struggling in her grip seemed, it just might be.

  “Off!” Jo grunted as she was slammed into the cage again, this
time on the opposite side of the ring. There might have been slightly less force in this charge than the one before, but if so, Jo couldn’t tell.

  Jo hung on doggedly as her opponent picked her up again, using her body as a battering ram against the steel. Jo’s head snapped back against the beam, and she saw stars. The beam was padded, but there was still steel under there. Jo held on, though, knowing the only way she was winning this fight was by choking out her opponent. The bigger woman straightened up, taking Jo off her feet once again, and charged across the ring. She stumbled before she made it all the way to the other side and fell forward. Jo locked her feet around the other woman’s waist, adding pressure to the choke. She squeezed, feeling the veins pop out in her forehead from the effort, then finally felt the welcome tap on her shoulder.

  The referee called for the bell, and Jo released the hold. The exhausted women slumped to the ground, Jo rolling to her feet as the referee walked over to check on both combatants.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Jo panted. “I’m good.”

  “What about you?” he asked her opponent.

  “I’m okay,” the larger woman gasped. Both women scrambled to their feet and stood by the referee awaiting his announcement. He raised Jo’s hand in victory, and she turned to her opponent, hand out.

  “I’m Jo,” she said.

  “Gladys,” the other woman said, taking her hand. “Good fight.” Without another word, she turned and walked out of the cage, leaving Jo to celebrate for a moment before the ref cleared her out. Jake walked her back to the dressing room, slapping her on the shoulder and hugging her the whole way.

  They burst into the empty room, smiles plastered on their faces. Jo peeled off her clothes as Jake resolutely faced the wall. “You know you don’t have to do that, right?” she said over her shoulder. “I’m a fighter, just like everybody else you work with. You don’t have to not look at me.”

  “You ain’t like everybody else I work with, Jo,” he corrected. “You’re a lady, and I was raised to respect that. Besides, if my Daniella found out I was looking at some beautiful naked woman, she’d choke me out a lot faster than you tapped that Russian chick.”

  Jo laughed as she headed to the shower. “You didn’t think I could beat her, did you?” She fiddled with the water until steam billowed around her.

  “No,” Jake said. His honesty didn’t surprise Jo. It was one of the reasons she had hired him. That and his reputation as one of the best corner men on the scene. It was only a falling out with his last client that left him available when she started fighting three months ago.

  “I didn’t either. Probably wouldn’t have, if she hadn’t dropped her guard finally.” Three months. A long three months of getting her ass kicked almost every night. Even the fights she won left their marks on her skin, and she wasn’t sure what left deeper bruises on her soul: losing, or what she sometimes had to do to win. But she was close, she could feel it. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, but she was going to end up close enough to Michael to put his sword in his hand, and hopefully that would wake the Archangel from his slumber and get him back to Heaven where he belonged.

  “I’m sorry, Shel. You can’t go in right now. She’s taking her shower.” Jo heard Jake say from the locker room.

  “Jake, baby, you know the deal. It’s my club, and I go where I want, when I want.” This wasn’t the first time Shelton had tried to walk in while Jo or other female fighters were showering or dressing. It was the main reason she liked having Jake around outside of his corner man duties. She didn’t mind fighting for Shelton, didn’t even mind him getting the lion’s cut of the betting take on her work, but letting him see her naked wasn’t one of the perks he got out of the deal. Besides, she didn’t trust the little sleaze not to hide a tiny video camera in the locker room and broadcast “naked fight girls” on the internet for extra cash.

  An enchanted stone in the bottom of her duffel bag took care of that, thanks to Harker and his magical mojo. Any video recording within a ten-yard radius of the stone turned to static.

  “I know that’s your rule, Shel. And you know my rule: you want to look at naked women, go to the strip club. You want to talk to my fighter, you wait until she’s dressed. I’ll send her to your office when she’s cleaned up.”

  Jo wished she could see the look on Shelton’s face as the implacable Jake stood in front of him, arms crossed and feet planted. Shel wouldn’t toss Jake. He was too good a corner man, and too many of his fighters would walk with him. And Jake wouldn’t budge on his morals for Shelton, no matter how much the promoter argued, threatened, or cajoled.

  Jo turned off the water and dried off, then wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out into the locker room. “You need me, Shel?”

  The promoter looked up, hope blossoming on his face, then wilting like a daisy in the July sun when he saw her completely covered by the huge towel she carried in every night. “Yeah, come to my office when you’re dressed. I’ll settle up with you and talk about Saturday night. You’re off tomorrow to rest up. You’re headlining Saturday with Mitchell.”

  Finally. Mitchell Carson was the name Michael fought under, and apparently lived under these days. Fighting right before him on Saturday would put them in close contact, and hopefully give her a chance to get the Archangel’s sword back to its owner and get her back to her normal life where nobody tried to knock her unconscious on a daily basis.

  “Sweet,” she said, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. “I’ll come to your office in a few minutes. Just let me throw some clothes on and get my gear together.”

  “Okay,” Shelton said, then turned to go. He stopped at the door. “Good fight tonight. I thought she was going to kick your ass.” He walked out into the hall, the metal locker room door slamming behind him.

  Jo dropped the towel and started to pull her clothes on. “Yeah. You, me, and everybody else in the world,” she said, pulling on her jeans and sitting down to lace up her boots. “You can turn around now, Jake.”

  He did, then sat next to her. “How bad you hurt?”

  “I’ve got a couple of bruises from last night that didn’t get any better for the pounding, and I’ll probably have a shiner in the morning, but I don’t think she did any real damage.”

  “Good thing,” Jake said. “I’ve seen some of the people Gladys has fought. She’s a killer.”

  “I guess I’m faster, or luckier, than they were.”

  “Yeah, one of those,” Jake said. His voice was low, like he was thinking about something.

  “What’s bugging you, Jakey?”

  “Something doesn’t smell right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look, don’t take this the wrong way. You’re a good fighter. You’ve got natural instincts, and have obviously had some training. And you’ve come further in no time than anybody I’ve ever seen. But there’s no way you should have been able to beat Gladys tonight. Most of the girls you’ve fought are just that—girls. They’ve been at this maybe six months, maybe a year. They haven’t been hit in the face a lot. You’ve taken some licks, and it lets you compete with people at your level.”

  “Yeah, that all makes sense,” Jo said. She knew enough to let Jake get to his point in his own time. He didn’t often say a lot, but Jo had learned to value the man’s opinions when he gave them.

  “But Gladys has been around for years. She had a couple of UFC and Strikeforce tryouts, and got close to fighting in the big time more than once. But something always fell apart at the last minute. Either there was a drug thing, or a visa thing, or something sketchy. So she ended up back here.”

  Realization dawned on Jo, and she nodded. “You think she threw the fight.” She wasn’t offended—everything Jake said made perfect sense. She should have been more banged up after going three rounds with a musclebound monster like Gladys. And an experienced fighter like that should never drop her guard and get caught in a submission so easily.

  “
Yeah, I do. I’m sorry, Jo—”

  “Don’t be,” Jo interrupted. “You’re right. But who? And why?”

  “I got no idea, girl. But I know one thing. You be careful dealing with Shelton. He’s more than just a pervert running a fight club. He’s connected to some bad people, and I’ve seen some bad things go on in some of his clubs before.”

  “Like what?” Jo asked, but Jake just shook his head.

  “Nah, I ain’t telling no tales. That’s a good way for somebody who don’t bring in no fans and don’t get no bets laid on the table to find himself sitting outside looking in real fast.”

  Jo nodded. “I can respect that. I guess there’s nothing for it but to go get my money from Shel and see what he’s got planned for Saturday night. My luck he’ll have me fighting a grizzly bear.”

  “Some of the women I’ve seen come through this place, I think a grizzly bear would be an easier scrap.”

  4

  I should have just fought the damn grizzly, Jo thought as she stared across the ring at her opponent. She was not looking forward to five rounds against the woman they called La Machina, or The Machine. She fought under a mask, like the Mexican luchadores, and because Shel thought it added drama to the matches, he allowed it. But the black mask covering her face was a layer of protection from strikes and cuts and made life a lot harder on her opponents.

  Not that Rochelle, as La Machina was known outside the octagon, needed any advantage. She was a tall, solidly built woman with a strong background in Muy Thai and boxing. Her combination of strikes and kicks made her a tough opponent for anyone, and her grappling ability made her even more dangerous.