The Devil's in the Details (13 page)

The realization peeled back the layers of shock and jump-started my survival instincts. Adrenaline pumped through me, pushing out the denial until the only thing I could think of was escaping. I grappled for the door handle. Just as my fingers closed around the slim metal, a loud click slid past the panic beating at my temples. Whoever was inside the car with me had locked the door.

Desperation flooded through me. I was going to die. Right here. Right now. No more wedding planning. No more searching for my prince charming. My human body was going to die, which meant I would be sucked Down Under for who knew how long. While my mom and aunties could grab another body at will (they were in charge, after all) everyone else was doomed to get back in line and wait their turn.

And you thought the line at the DMV was long.

I searched blindly for the lock button. There. It clicked, and I made a mad grab for the handle, only to have it wrenched from my hand. The door swung open and strong hands reached for me. In the blink of an eye, my feet hit the pavement and the supernatural noose snapped. I gasped for air as muscular arms cradled me close and a familiar heat zipped through my body.

“What the hell is going on?” Cutter’s deep voice rumbled past the thunder in my ears.

“I…” I croaked, drinking in huge drafts of air until my burning lungs eased. “Couldn’t breathe,” I finally managed. As the
dizziness passed, I became acutely aware that I was leaning heavily on a certain sexy demon hunter. I could feel the hard planes of his body, the ripple of his arms as he tightened his hold.

Oh, boy.

A wave of lust overtook my terror.

“What happened in there?” His warm breath close to my ear distracted me from my traitorous body. I inhaled and exhaled calmly.

I considered telling him the truth—that I was being targeted by one of my crazy aunties, most likely Aunt Bella, who was undoubtedly desperate to throw a wrench into my ma’s plans. But then he would know that I wasn’t just some lowly demon wedding planner, but a direct descendant of the soon-to-be head honcho herself.

“Asthma attack,” I heard myself say. “I probably should have checked medical history before I hopped into this body, huh?”

He looked doubtful. In fact, he looked downright pissed, and ready to tear apart whoever had trapped me inside the car.

Then again, I was his ticket to Azazel. Of course he wanted me safe.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted, eager to kill the fierce, protective look in his eyes and ignore the desire rippling through me. A feeling that made me want to curl into his arms even more than I wanted to jump his bones.

He stared at me a heartbeat longer, as if he felt the push-pull of emotion just as much as I did, but then he seemed to realize that he was standing much too close.

His arms dropped away and he stepped back. “You didn’t think I was just going to back off and disappear because you said you’d deliver Azazel?”

“I was hoping.”

“That’s not the way this works.”

“You don’t trust me.” I wasn’t sure why that bothered me so much. If I were him, I wouldn’t trust me either. A demon had stolen his soul, for Pete’s sake. Definitely a foundation for trust issues. “I meant what I said. I’ll find Azazel.”

“And I’ll lay off your client,
after
you fulfill your end of the deal.”

“Meaning I’m under surveillance.”

He nodded. “You and your newest client. I spent months tracking Lillith Damon. I’m not backing off until you give me a good reason to back off. Until then it’s business as usual. Lucky for you.” His gaze caught and held mine. Sparks flared along my nerve endings and I had the sudden urge to rip off my clothes and straddle him right there on the sidewalk.

The way he was looking at me didn’t help the situation either. His eyes glittered, hot and mesmerizing, and I knew he was feeling the exact same way. Raw desire. Fierce need.

My breasts ached and my thighs trembled and…

This was so
not
good.

“I could have opened that door by myself,” I pointed out. “I am a badass demon, after all.”
What the hell are you doing? That’s like reminding the deer hunter that you’re the prizewinning buck.

But I had to do something. He looked too good and I wanted him too bad and he was obviously falling under my succubus mojo, because I knew he wanted me too.

The blaze in his eyes faded into a hard, glittering light. “It’s getting late. You should go.”

The statement jump-started my brain, and I glanced at my watch. “I’m fifteen minutes late.” Shit. Blythe was going to kill me.

“Hot date?”

“Something like that.”

Cutter stiffened and I had the insane idea that he wasn’t all that happy about my response.

I should be so lucky.

The thought struck before I could remind myself of the all-important fact that Cutter and I were at opposite ends of the supernatural spectrum. Human there. Demon here. A giant, demon-killing sword in between.

No way was he jealous. And even if he was, no way did it actually mean anything except that my demon mojo was alive and well and spilling over in abundance.

The notion sent an unexpected burst of disappointment through me. “I really should go.”

And then I climbed into the car, keyed the ignition, and left Cutter staring after me.

Agarth was from an ancient era of plagues and idols (that’s golden calves, not the superpopular gig with Randy Jackson). He was a throwback to a time when demons were big and bad and ferocious. Forget trickery and manipulation. The bad boys of ancient times were in-your-face with their power. They were fierce, barbaric, and aggressive. Qualities that hadn’t been lost just because times had changed and people had become more civilized. While Agarth occupied the body of a thirty-two-year-old construction worker with a decent face and great abs, his old-school personality was still front and center via a foot-long beard, a piercing black stare, and a fondness for sharp things.

It was no surprise I found him wielding a butter knife when I walked into Cabo a half hour later.

Blythe sat across from him looking slightly desperate, particularly when he reached over, stabbed her roll, and proceeded to devour it in one bite (minus any chewing). He burped. She cringed.

O-kay.

Pissing off a crazy eccentric with a weapon was not the way I wanted to spend my Tuesday night. I was just about to rethink the whole date-crashing thing when Blythe spied me out of the corner of her eye. Her head whipped around and relief flooded her expression, followed by a hard edge because I was late.

“Jess,” she called out, waving an arm and beckoning me over. “What a surprise seeing you here. Agarth”—she motioned to the man sitting across from her—“you remember Jess?”

Agarth turned his hard stare on me and ice sank into the pit of my stomach. Suddenly I was sitting in my car, the cold fingers slithering around my neck, cutting off my air.

Was I insane? I already had one demon after me. I so didn’t need to piss off another.

“I…” I swallowed and fought for my courage. Blythe was in this mess—aka a date with Agarth—because she was trying to help me. The least I could do was hold her hand and try to ease the pain. “You did the ice sculpture for my last wedding,” I reminded him. “It was awesome.”

He grunted his recognition, and I spent the next few moments going through the whole chance meeting spiel that ended with Blythe insisting that I join them. Agarth looked as if he would sooner stab me in the heart than share his date. But when Blythe batted her eyes at him, he shrugged and growled, “Sit, woman.”

“I know she wishes not to be here with me,” he said when Blythe headed for the little girls’ room a few minutes later. “It matters not. I am simply happy she is here.”

Agarth definitely put on his big-boy boxers today. He was actually interested in pleasing my best friend. Even if it meant putting up with a third wheel when he would much rather be alone with Blythe.

Too cute.

“Blythe’s really picky,” I heard myself say. “Maybe you’ll grow on her.” He gave me a steely-eyed stare and I added, “Maybe not. But you’ll still help me, right?”

When he didn’t answer, I continued, “Blythe falling head over heels for you isn’t part of the bargain. You wanted another date with her, you got it. Now I need to know what you know about Azazel.”

“I know not of his whereabouts.”

“But?” I prodded.

“I shall look into it.”

“Before Friday?”

“Ye have my word. Now stop all this yapping and eat.” He motioned to the turkey sandwich the waitress had set down in front of me.

“I’m not very hungry…” Before I even finished my reply, he leaned over, stabbed a slab of turkey with his knife, and popped it into his mouth.

I spent the next few minutes avoiding Agarth’s butter knife as he stabbed more of my food and then proceeded to order a double-decker for himself.

“Old-school demons obviously like meat.”

“’Tis an appetite for the flesh I cannot forget.”

Ewwwww.

“I’m back.” Blythe slid into her chair.

“Thank God,” I blurted. Agarth gave me a sharp look, and I added, “Sorry.”

“’Tis the problem with demons these days. They are so settled in with the humans that they forget where they came from. Back in my day”—he waved the knife at me—“we would skewer a demon for uttering such sacrilege.” Agarth launched into a thirty-minute story about the old days, and I did my best not to grab his butter knife and stab myself.

I became acutely aware of Cutter Owens about halfway through the sacrilege story when I had the sudden thought that the air unit had gone out in the crowded bar. But then the hair tingled on the back of my neck and I knew.

I half turned, my gaze catching sight of him sitting at the bar. He wore the usual black jeans and a matching T-shirt that outlined his broad shoulders. One bicep rippled, and a slave-band tattoo played peekaboo beneath the edge of his sleeve as he lifted a mug of beer to his lips. Our eyes locked and my stomach fluttered, followed by a rush of coldness when I noticed the crook of his sensual lips.

He was smiling at my predicament. The rat.

Agarth stabbed another roll and Cutter’s grin widened as if to say
priceless
.

I stiffened and glared. Seriously. If he had an ounce of compassion, he would waltz over and save me from the most boring night of my life.

But slayers weren’t compassionate and his presence had nothing to do with looking out for my well-being. He was keeping tabs on me. Nothing more.

Okay, so he was laughing too. Particularly when Agarth threatened to impale a flirty accountant who offered to buy me a drink.

“I think I can handle things myself,” I told the ancient demon.

“Nonsense. Ye be a mere woman.”

Blythe gave me an I-am-
so
-getting-you-back-for-this look, and I busied myself ignoring the blistering heat from Cutter’s gaze and the yawning hunger inside of me. I sucked down the chocolate banana daiquiri I’d just ordered and set it aside. “Wow, would you look at the time? I really need to go and leave you two lovebirds—”

“You can’t run off,” Blythe cut in, her fingers closing around my wrist in a vise grip that made me wince. “They’re having a Greek warriors festival over at the Palladium. It’s a double feature tonight—
Clash of the Titans
and
300
.” She smiled, her eyes pleading. “I’ll buy the popcorn.”

“Bite your tongue, woman,” Agarth growled. “I’ll be buying ye popcorn and any other nourishment ye require. And ye, too.”
He pointed at me with his knife. As opposed as he was to having a third wheel, he knew it was the only way he was going to get a few more minutes with Blythe.

I thought of Cutter and how he’d held me after my near-death experience, and how I’d liked it. And how I’d felt so alone when I’d driven away from him, even though, realistically, I knew there could never be anything between us.

“Throw in a box of Jujubes,” I told Agarth, “and I’m there.”

Someone was in my apartment.

The thought struck as I pulled into my driveway. I stared through the windshield at the light edging the drapes in my living room. After the evening I’d just had—near-death experience followed by dinner and a double feature with Blythe and Agarth—I’d figured my luck had already tanked and there was nowhere to go but up.