I sighed heavily. “I don’t think drawing that much attention to ourselves would be a great idea,” I said. “We’ll just have to get rid of her somehow.”
“I’m sure we’ll manage something.”
I glanced at him sidelong and shivered. I didn’t like the way he was looking at Reporter Barbie, but before I had a chance to warn him to behave, she’d caught up to us.
Barbie smiled, looking for all the world like she expected me to be happy to see her.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police and report you as a stalker,” I growled at her.
She blinked. “There’s no need to be so hostile. I’m just doing my job.”
Ah, yes, the excuse of sleazy reporters everywhere. Not that I had any reason to believe Barbara What’s- Her-Name was a sleazy reporter. She hadn’t really done anything that obnoxious—yet—and not all reporters are sleazy. Just like Brian reminds me every once in a while that not all lawyers are sleazy. But old stereotypes die hard, especially when they’re in the process of inconveniencing me.
“I’m not answering your questions, so go do your job elsewhere.”
Barbie’s glance flicked to Raphael, who was doing a great job of mimicking Tommy’s sullen look. Then she looked back at me and raised her eyebrows. “You seem to have become exorcist to the rich and famous. Care to comment?”
I’d forgotten that Tommy’s father was old money, putting him in the same league as good ol’ Jordan Maguire Jr. Crap. I imagined this would be a fascinating coincidence to anyone with a journalistic mind.
“I’m a legal, registered demon,” Raphael said calmly. “And clearly Ms. Kingsley is not exorcizing me or we’d be in the basement of the courthouse and I’d be in lots and lots of restraints.”
I wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Engaging Reporter Barbie in conversation of any kind was a bad idea. But too late now.
“But there were some questions that arose at the time of your summoning. Claudia Brewster alleges that you have taken her son against his will. And I know that she has hired Ms. Kingsley to look into the case.”
This was just getting better and better. I knew denying it wasn’t going to do any good, but my reflexes kicked in. “She didn’t hire me to do anything.” I sounded pissed even to my own ears, which was not a good thing. It let Barbie know she was getting to me, which would just make her more curious. I made a concerted effort to calm my voice. “She consulted with me to see if I could find any evidence that Tommy was taken against his will. I told her I couldn’t, and that was that.”
“Then what business do you have with Mr. Brewster at the moment?”
A perfectly logical question—and evidence that I’d been right in my conviction that both Raphael and I should keep quiet.
I was still struggling to find an answer when Raphael took a step forward, invading Barbie’s personal space. His new host wasn’t quite as tall or imposing as most demon hosts, but he was able to look down on her from a significant height advantage.
“Our business is none of your business, Ms. . ?” “Paige,” she supplied. “Barbara Paige. I work for the—”
“I don’t care who you work for.” Raphael’s voice was outwardly calm, but still intimidating as hell. “You’re getting on my nerves, and that isn’t in your best interests.”
Raphael radiated so much menace any sane person would have tucked her tail between her legs and bolted. Barbie apparently wasn’t sane. She held her ground, and didn’t even look particularly uneasy.
“I don’t think threatening me is in your best interests, Mr. Brewster.” She put her fists on her hips and met his glower with a blandly calm expression.
Raphael blinked, startled that she’d called his bluff. He stared at her for a moment, then looked over at me.
“Get in the car,” he said.
It sounded suspiciously like an order, which of course made me want to dig in my heels and refuse. Common sense prevailed, however, and I turned my back on Barbie and opened the door. Raphael had already gotten in, and Barbie had started running back to her car. Luckily, she was wearing businesslike pumps that weren’t optimal running shoes.
Raphael stomped on the gas pedal before I even managed to close the door behind myself. He peeled out of the parking lot with a squeal of rubber, the car jouncing hard over one of Philly’s ubiquitous potholes. I struggled to get my seat belt on as he blew through a red light.
The expression on his face was grim, and he didn’t slow down, even when I looked back over my shoulder and told him I didn’t see Barbie’s car following us.
“Take it down a notch,” I said, bracing my hands on the dashboard as another pothole threatened to break the POS into bite-sized pieces. “We’ve lost her, and I doubt she’s going to be willing to break as many traffic laws as you are.”
“She’s not a reporter,” he said, screeching the car around a corner.
“What?”
“She’s not a reporter,” he repeated. “I was thinking it was strange that she was being so aggressive over such a nothing story. I thought it was even stranger that she didn’t bat an eyelash when I started crowding her.” His lips thinned. “Then when she put her hands on her hips, I got a glimpse of a shoulder holster under her jacket.”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah. I don’t know who she is, or what she wants, but I’d say staying away from her is a really good idea.”
“I agree,” I said as my stomach decided it objected to the rough handling it was getting as we bounced and rocked down the street at warp speed. “But if you don’t slow down, we’re going to get stopped for speeding, and that could give her time to catch up with us.”
To my immense relief, the car slowed to near the speed limit. But I couldn’t help noticing he kept a watchful eye on the rearview mirror as we made our way out of town.
CHAPTER 26
Devon and Claudia Brewster lived out past the Main Line, which marks the boundary between the city and the suburbs. Their neighborhood was chic and obviously expensive. Most cars were discreetly tucked away in garages, but those that weren’t tended toward the Mercedes and BMW end of the luxury scale. I wondered whether Tommy drove a POS because his parents were cheap, or because it was some kind of fashion statement. Of course, the way he usually dressed, he’d have looked like a car thief behind the wheel of a Mercedes. Raphael’s outfit of well-worn jeans borrowed from Adam and navy blue sweatshirt borrowed from Dominic looked like black-tie attire compared to Tommy’s usual wardrobe. I hoped that wouldn’t make the bad guys suspicious.
“That’s the house,” Raphael said, pointing briefly before pulling the car to the curb two houses down. He left the engine running, but put the car in park and turned to face me. He surprised me by reaching out to grab my wrist. If I’d had an inkling he’d been about to touch me, I’d have been out of the car before he’d moved five inches.
“Let go of me!” I said, giving my hand a yank for emphasis. Of course, he didn’t let go. “What are you doing?” Did I mention I didn’t trust Raphael one bit?
He grinned at me. “I’m keeping you from bolting if you don’t like my next suggestion.”
“I already don’t like it. Now get your hands off me or things’ll get ugly.”
“Let Lugh surface.”
I jerked on my hand again, but when a demon’s got a grip on you, you aren’t getting free. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Yes, it was. I just didn’t mention it before.”
Raphael had hold of my left hand, but I’m right-handed. I reached for the Taser that was strapped to my belly with adhesive tape, where it was hidden by my oversized sweatshirt. Another loaner from Adam. Raphael grabbed my right hand before I got to the Taser.
“What if they don’t buy it, Morgan?” he asked. “What if we get down into that basement, and they figure out I’m not Tommy’s original demon? I can mimic Tommy just fine since I have access to his mind, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to what his demon was doing in the real world to give me any clue who his allies are. We’ll go down there, and everyone will expect me to recognize my so-called friends.”