Senator Fisher looked like the cliché of an ordinary old congressman who was way past the expiration date on being useful to the people he represented. Hair snow-white and trimmed, pale skin crinkled at the corners of his mouth and eyes and creased along the forehead. His clothing sported the colors of America, the suit navy blue, tie a bright red and dress shirt white. He was a walking advertisement for patriotism and privilege, rolled into one messed-up little ball of well-hidden evil.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, reaching for his pocket and pulling out a phone. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re making a very terrible—”

“Mistake? Not as big as the one you’ve made.” I snatched the phone out of his hand. “Sit.”

His rheumy blue eyes narrowed on me before his gaze bounced nervously to where Cayman was whispering to the man Zayne had taken down. “Now, you listen to me, young lady. I don’t know what you all think you’re doing, but I’m a senator of the United States and—”

“And I’m Frosty the Snowman. Sit. Down.”

The senator stared back at me, his cheeks mottling and then paling as I felt Zayne come closer.

“Check the penthouse,” Zayne said to Cayman. The demon bowed and all but scampered off.

Impatient, I smacked my hands down on the senator’s shoulders and forced him onto the couch. The surprise that widened his eyes gave me a measure of satisfaction. “Thank you for sitting.” I smiled brightly. “We have questions, and you have important answers. So, we’re going to have a little chitchat, and if you’re smart, you’re not going to make this hard for us. See the big blond guy behind me?”

Senator Fisher’s lips thinned as he nodded.

“He’s as strong as he is hot, and his hotness is off the charts.” I sat on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of the senator. “And I just learned today that he is extremely skilled when it comes to breaking bones.”

“Expert level,” Zayne murmured.

“But we don’t want it to come to that. Keep in mind, not wanting it to come to that does not mean it will not come to that. Understand?”

He looked between us. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Famous last words.” Cayman strolled back into the living room and threw himself into the chair beside the couch. “The penthouse is boringly clear. No more security teams or hookers, dead or alive.”

I frowned at him.

Cayman shrugged. “You should see the things I’ve found in some politicians’ hotel rooms. Could write a bestselling memoir.”

All righty then.

“Who are you people?” Fisher demanded, straightening the lapels of his jacket.

“Just your friendly neighborhood Warden,” Zayne answered. “Oh, and demon and Trueborn.”