How to Capture a Demon's Heart Page 5

  “Yeah, but who would stand up and let cops talk to them if Shawn came in? These guys are family. I wouldn’t trade them for money… Maybe one day we’ll be able to afford both. I’d like to see more women,” I laughed.

  She nodded and glanced over at her partner one more time. “Look. Changing up your schedule is good. Carrying something for self defense and not walking alone to your car is even better. We can’t do anything outside of the bar until he attacks you and you know it was him. I’m sorry.”

  A pang of anxiety twisted my stomach into a knot, but I understood. “I get it. I knew the problems with reporting him, but he’s starting to affect my business. When he walks in, customers get anxious, some leave. It’s not right.”

  She agreed but told me to think about changing up my schedule even more by leaving before close or shift change to make it harder to catch me as I walked out. The more wisdom she imparted, the more my stomach cramped around the fear that gathered there like a stone.

  I wanted to walk out right behind them, but orders were up and poor Gloria was running her feet off to keep up with the bar and her tables. I cleared the tables between where I was standing and the bar and handed the tower of glasses off to Kurt before sliding back and tagging Glo out.

  “Three pitchers and a vodka tonic, Missy. Thank you,” Gloria handed over her orders and was out on the floor before I could open my mouth.

  Three hours passed in a blur of mixed drinks and six-dollar pitchers. It wasn’t until almost ten o’clock that Orson dragged me back into the office and handed me my purse. “Go home, Jose’s gonna walk you out, Paris has offered to meet you at your place to make sure you get in safely.”

  “I’m fine, Orson. You can walk me to my car like we planned. I don’t need to leave early.”

  “Do you know you haven’t smiled or laughed since the police left? Your face is tight, worried. Gloria noticed, the customers have asked her what’s wrong, even Kurt noticed, and he’s the most oblivious kid in the world. Go home, ‘Cuz. I love you, but you need to go.”

  Jose appeared at the door, his face sheepish. “You’re not in trouble, Jose. Orson’s right, I should go.” I turned to Orson. “But please, don’t have Paris waiting.”

  “Tell her hi for me.” He sauntered out as I gave him the finger, and Jose snickered. Orson never looked back. He waved me off and went into the kitchen to hide from the anger and fear for me that I’d seen in his eyes when I asked him to leave Paris out of it.

  “Bye, ‘Cuz. C’mon Jose, let’s get me safely in the car so Orson can stop worrying.”

  Jose shook his head and glanced back toward the kitchen. “O will stop worrying, when that guy’s gone for good. I don’t think he even cares how it happens anymore.”

  I couldn’t argue with him. Orson and the kitchen crew managed to avoid most of the typical conflicts that occasionally sprang up in the bar, but Shawn’s veiled threats and open hostility had put everyone on edge, from the custodial crew who caught themselves glancing out windows for his car, to the little drive through espresso stand on the corner where the girls told me he’d been lurking.

  “I’ll be okay, I promise. Just go back inside and work extra hard for Orson, so he has one less thing to think about.” He shut the door as I tucked my legs under the steering wheel, and I watched him scan the parking lot and our street for any sign of trouble.

  After an eternity of diligently guarding me, Jose finally waved goodbye and went inside, and I pulled up to the street, looking both ways several times before finally pulling out and heading up the hill toward home.

  I was accosted by Paris before I brought my car to a full stop, her eyes flashing with anger and irritation as she jumped in front of my hood, her taser out in her hand.

  “Honey, I’m okay. What on earth are you doing out here?”

  She wagged the purse-sized weapon, which I was almost sure was illegal, in my face. “I hope he does show up so I can nail him in the sack with this bad boy.”

  “Oh, come on,” I groaned. “Let’s avoid an assault charge and have some wine instead, huh?”

  I took her arm and she switched the taser to her other hand, still ready to attack. “Wine would be great.” We hurried toward the stairs up to my place, both of us swiveling our heads constantly to watch for trouble.

  “We’re ridiculous.”

  “Agreed,” she laughed. “But I will fuck him up if he tries anything.” Almost before she was done speaking, her voice faltered. She cleared her throat and stopped on the top stair. “On the other hand, I’m not the one he’s obsessed with. Maybe I’ll just go home and run a bath and send your cousin dirty pictures.”

  I gaped at her, but she was staring straight ahead like I didn’t exist. I glanced in the same direction and groaned inwardly. Standing, his arms folded across his chest and a pissed off look on his face, was Ranger. Behind him on the floor was a tall basket wrapped in cellophane, full of fruit and bottles I surmised were some kind of alcohol.

  “Where the hell were you, and are you drunk? Are the two of you kidding me? Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?”

  My jaw dropped even further as Paris tossed her long hair over her shoulder and wiggled the taser in her hand. “No, we’re not drunk, and if you think I’m not a survivor, I’m happy to show you what my little toy here does.”

  He held his face in his hand. “Put that stupid thing away and let’s get Ms. O’Shay inside.”

  “Ms. O’Shay,” Paris mouthed at me and giggled. Aloud, she clicked her tongue, saluting as she said. “Yes sir, mister DeVries, sir.”

  I unlocked the door and Ranger slipped inside, shooting me a look of irritation. “Wait here, and be quiet,” he hissed. “I’ll check the place out.”

  Paris looked impressed, but I just wanted off the landing and behind a locked door. “We can wait just inside. I can’t stand sitting out here, looking like an idiot.”

  “Not me,” she replied with a wink. “I think somebody’s here to finish what he was too gentlemanly to start last night, and I am too good a friend to get in the way of a good sexy time.” She was halfway down to the next landing before she turned and waved to me. “By, sexy time girl.”

  I hissed out a breath and slipped inside, praying that Ranger hadn’t heard her, and adding a second prayer that she was right. But just as I snapped the deadbolt to, he came back and unlocked it again.

  “Your place is empty, but you look pale. I’m, I’m sorry that I was short with you. I should go.” His discomfort made me smile, and I hid it by turning to open the door.

  “I’m pale because I was too upset to eat at work after Shawn showed up again. Do you…maybe want to grab a burger, somewhere I know he’d never go?”

  He took my arm and let me lead him out the door, using my key to lock it, even though I knew he had other ways to do it. Everything he did seemed purposeful and with my feelings in mind. It was as enticing as it was disconcerting, but I stifled my little logical voice. I wanted his company, safe or not.

  It didn’t hurt that when he smiled down at me it sent a wave of heat to my core. “I could eat.”

  Chapter 9

  Ranger

  I’d just finished searching Darcy’s apartment for the glass philter when I happened to glance out a window and saw the friend from her framed photographs pacing the parking lot below. I slipped out, locked the door, and leaned against it to wait for them, wondering at my racing heart. Better not let Boras find out this one makes you feel human. I tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensations, but each time they surfaced I got a rush of anticipation for the next time.

  Hundreds of years had passed without feeling anything but anger or fear. Anticipation, lust, righteous indignation, all were alien sensations hardly remembered. It was like limbs that had been amputated had suddenly begun to grow back, and the pain of it was excruciating and delicious torment. I wanted the bottle

  Sitting across the dingy linoleum table from her at the truck stop, I again felt that stirring of
emotions I’d thought impossible for so long. I watched her devour a burger and fries like she hadn’t eaten in days, apologizing between bites for eating in front of me.

  “Stop apologizing. Do you want me to order something, so you feel okay finishing your dinner? Good Hel. I ate already. I’m not hungry. But I don’t want you worrying about me anymore.” I waved to our server and asked her for a piece of pie. “I don’t care what flavor, just pie. With ice cream.”

  When she returned, she set hot apple pie in front of me. The smell of cinnamon filled my nostrils as I scooped melted vanilla ice cream by the spoonful and poured it over the flaky, sugar-glazed crust. “See? I eat. I eat too much, probably, because my body never suffers for it.”

  “Cheeky.” She leaned back in her seat and wiped the corner of her full mouth to remove some barbeque sauce that lingered there. “Tell me about what you do. Is it ever challenging? Do you ever have to fight?”

  I thought about Harold, a greedy farmer in Massachusetts who had traded his soul for the murders of his neighbor and the neighbor’s wife. They hung as witches, but that was where their torture ended. What would she think of you if she knew the farmer burns in Hel still, and you remember his face with perfect alacrity?

  “Nothing I do is that interesting. I have chased a guy or two through the woods when they tried to renege on their deal, but nothing to write a movie about.”

  She licked her lips and arched an eyebrow at me. “I doubt that, but okay, Mister Boring. Why do you keep doing it then?”

  “I don’t have a choice. No soul, no freedom. And there are worse things I could be doing. Worse for me, that is. I know where those souls go. It’s not awesome.”

  For the first time since we’d met, I saw recognition dawn in her eyes. “Shit. So, Heaven, Hell, it’s all real, and you’re the bad guy?”

  “They’re real, even if they aren’t what your books of scripture tell you. Think, less Passion of Christ, more Isaac Asimov, I guess.”

  “Science fiction is real and religion isn’t? Is that one of your mind-tricks to get my soul?”

  I choked on a bite of apple pie and coughed for a few seconds before managing to answer. “No, I mean Heaven and Hell are real places, but not where you go when you die. They’re real now, like this is,” I knocked on the table, “but for people like me.”

  “And angels.”

  “That’s not what they call themselves, but yeah.” I held up a finger, “and no, I don’t want to accidentally conjure one by saying their name aloud, so angel is fine.” I shuddered. “After so long, I don’t know if I can even speak the language of the Host.”

  She played with the remaining ketchup on the edge of her plate, dragging French fries through it and dropping them one by one in a pile. “I felt a lot better about the conversation five minutes ago. Let’s get back to why you’re such a gentleman, you wouldn’t stay the night?”

  “Ye gods. Because you’re beautiful, and I’m not the good guy. Avoiding temptation isn’t really my thing.”

  She blushed, and it made those butterfly wings of human emotion flitted inside my gut again. “I wish you’d stayed home and gotten some rest, but if you’re truly feeling better, maybe we can work something out…Do you think you could turn me into a good guy for a night?”

  She dropped bills on the table before I could even ask for the check. “I think I’d have better luck with that if I was wounded. Good thing I’m not in the market for a self-proclaimed ‘good guy’,” she scoffed. “Been there, done that, wasn’t quite worth the hype.”

  I stood and offered her a hand. “Fair enough. How about I take you home now?”

  She held up her keys and jangled them. “How about I take you?”

  All the way home, she made lighthearted conversation, but I could feel her anxiety warring with anticipation and desire, the air thrumming between us. But I also felt her pain, the distraction of the marshal as he wormed his way into her head. I wouldn’t take her this way, her heart divided between survival and desire.

  But I walked her up the stairs to her apartment and waited for her to unlock the door. “You really aren’t going to show me how you did it, are you?”

  “I like you, Darcy. I don’t want to show you anything that’s going to make you afraid of me before you get to know me well-enough that it won’t scare you off.” I tugged her into my arms, reveling in the heat of her breasts heaving against me as she gasped.

  I bent and kissed her as gently as I could, the taste of her mint gum and cherry lip gloss driving me mad. “Goodnight, Ms. O’Shay. I hope to see you again soon.” She inhaled sharply as I released her, and I sped down the stairs before my need to touch her again overwhelmed me.

  The feeling of her, hot, ready, filled with need that didn’t require my demonic senses to detect, distracted me. I almost missed the subtle whiff of Sulphur that made me duck as a fist rushed past the side of my head.

  “What the fuck, Boras?” I danced out of the way and brushed off my jacket. “Who pissed you off today?”

  “You promised me two souls, Hissrat. Two souls and I have none.”

  I growled at the insult. “Hissrat? I am no double agent of heaven. You want her soul, I must first gain her trust. You know she’s whole. If I break her now, you get nothing.”

  He scoffed and paced in front of me, starving for the light of a purer soul than I’d brought him in decades. “I don’t want her soiled by you, I want her soul bright as sunrise.”

  “If I try to tear it away now, she’ll die and the other side will devour her, instead of you. But if that’s a risk you’re willing to take, I’ll go get it.”

  “Gah, I won’t lose her. You get her for me.”

  “You gave me a week.”

  “You have until tomorrow. Both of them, in my jars, or I take you instead.” He stormed away and I glanced up for any sign she’d seen us arguing. Her blinds were closed and still, and when I pushed out with my senses to her, I got an image of her in the bath, her hands roaming her body like I wish mine were. No danger from her, except the tightness in my pants that would probably take more than a hooker to alleviate.

  I turned to go, and a white Jeep caught my eye, parked just beyond the yellow ring of light cast by the streetlamp. Inside, a man, his head tilted back, eyes locked on the same windows I’d just been looking up at.

  The marshal hadn’t seen us, too fixated on the woman who wanted him gone from her life for good. Boras was right, I didn’t have a week. If I left the man to his own devices, in a week, Darcy would be dead, and the fight for her soul would be moot.

  Chapter 10

  Ranger

  As much as I’d wanted to tear the marshal’s head off his shoulders, I knew Darcy wouldn’t let me near her again if she thought I’d harmed him. She wanted him to stay away from her, but like many humans, didn’t want to bring him real harm.

  I had to find a way around her compassion, and the only people I could think of to help me get to Shawn without losing her, would be almost as hard to convince. With that in mind, I used the early morning hours to become better acquainted with Paris Caldwell and Orson O’Shay, piggybacking off Darcy’s wi-fi as I guarded her apartment.

  Paris didn’t even register surprise when I fell in step with her outside the coffee shop she stopped at every morning. “So, did you and Darcy have a good night? Because she still hasn’t returned any of my texts.”

  Panic flashed through me, but I reminded myself that Marshal Freeman was at the gym and when I’d left Darcy’s front stoop, she’d been singing in the shower.

  “I enjoyed her company very much. She’s lovely.”

  Paris laughed and looked me over. “Well, she attracted you, didn’t she?” She sighed when I didn’t respond. “She told me you’re a demon, that everything that asshole Shawn told us is at least partially real.”

  “Yes, I am a demon. But you don’t have to be from Hel to notice a woman like Ms. O’Shay.”

  She giggled and tucked her hand over my arm. “I
love how you call her Ms. O’Shay, like an old-fashioned gentleman. It’s nice. A little formal, but nice.”

  “I like her, Ms. Caldwell. A lot. Enough that I want to make sure you and Orson are okay with me…being around her.”

  “Wow.” She breathed out slowly. “If she isn’t smart enough to snag you, I might have to take you on, myself.”

  It was my turn to laugh. Paris was less conservative than her bet friend, and more outspoken, but I felt no attraction from her at all. She was a woman in love, and an incubus is powerless against true love.

  “Orson would beat my face in, and I know he could, so why risk it? Besides, you don’t want me. You want the man who beats in your heart so loudly I could hear it from the top of the stairs last night while you prowled the parking lot.”

  Her body heated next to me, a happy flush rising to her face. “Damn. You really are different, from what she’s had before, you know that?”

  “I should hope so.” Paris giggled again at the tone of my voice. “Okay, I’ve got to ask. Why doesn’t M/s O’Shay laugh much?”

  My companion became serious. “She used to, all the time. She has this belly laugh that makes you laugh even if your mom just died.”

  “And this is a good thing?”

  She gave me a wan smile. “It’s very good, and not at all common, Mr. DeVries.”

  “Do you think I could make her laugh like that?” I only paused for a beat before answering my own question. “I mean, if I got rid of Marshal Freeman somehow, could I make it happen?”

  At his name, I felt all the joy in her body freeze in the cold rage he induced in her. “If you ever want to make that happen, you should talk to Orson. He knows more about Shawn’s misdeeds than I do. Darcy never talks shit about people behind their backs, even ex-boyfriends. But Orson’s the only family she has out here. He’s the keeper of the secrets.”

  I bought her coffee and a muffin for breakfast, and she let me know that Orson was already at the bar, checking in on the morning prep and trying out new recipes so he could test them on his crew.