Squinting through the tinted glass, Dean realized the thin, blonde woman behind the wheel was on the phone. When he tapped on the driver’s door window, she opened it a finger’s width but continued looking down at the laptop open on the leather upholstery of the passenger seat. “Ma’am, you don’t need to call for a tow. You’re barely off the road; you can just back up.”
She ignored him and kept talking. “…telling you the bank beat by nine cents the average estimate of sixty cents a share.”
“Ma’am?”
A slender hand in a burgundy leather glove waved vaguely in his direction. “But you’re forgetting that volatile capital markets allowed a forty-five percent increase in fees, and that’s where you can attribute most of the profit growth.”
“I’m after heading back to my truck now.”
“Look, Frank, it was loan volumes that brought the interest income up nine percent to three hundred and thirty-seven million dollars.”
“Ma’am?”
“Three hundred and thirty-seven million dollars, Frank!”
“Never mind.”
Claire and Austin were waiting inside the truck.
“I guess the driver’s all right,” Dean told them as Claire lifted Austin off the driver’s seat and onto her lap, “but she wouldn’t actually talk to me.”
“She? Should I go?”
“Got three hundred and thirty-seven million dollars?” When Claire answered in the negative, he grinned. “Then I doubt she’ll talk to you either.” Putting his glasses back on after carefully wiping the condensation off the lenses, he frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“A new Summons; stronger than these little roadside things.” She rested her chin on the top of Austin’s head. “It feels strange.”
“Is it the angel, then? ’Cause if I wasn’t scared abroad by Hell, an angel won’t trouble me much.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Only one way to find out.” He pulled carefully onto the highway. “Which way?”
“North.”
“So, dear, when you call yourself a demon—is that a club?”
“No.” Byleth sagged farther down in the back seat, the shoulder belt preventing a really good slouch. “It’s not a fu…”
“Language.” Half turning, Eva raised a cautioning finger.
“It’s not a club.” Byleth had no idea how the mortal woman did it. Something about her tone of voice, her expression, evoked an instinctive obedience. If the Princes of Hell could figure it out, they’d be…well, since they were already ruling Hell, nothing much would change but the shouting. Hell could do with a little less shouting in Byleth’s opinion.
“It’s not a gang, is it?” Harry asked, trying to catch her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Because I know how seductive gangs can be. Black leather and motorcycles and…”
“Harry.”
Under the edge of his tweed hat, Harry’s ears pinked.
Eva half turned again. “Harry had a bit of a past before he met me.”
“I’ll bet he did,” the demon muttered.
“What was that, dear?”
“It’s not a gang.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
The day was not going as planned. Coercing the old man into driving her to Toronto had somehow turned into a cheerful family outing. With snacks. She should have walked out right after that big homemade breakfast and found some punk kid who’d just got his license and who’d do anything she asked if she just bounced those really annoying breasts at him in a promising sort of a way. Not that she’d keep the promise, of course. Her kind excelled at broken promises.
“Shall we play license plate bingo, dear?”
Fortunately Harry answered before she could.
“Byleth’s too old for that, Eva. Remember what our lot were like at her age?”
“The boys,” Eva began, but Harry cut her off, one hand leaving the steering wheel just long enough to pat a rounded knee.
“The boys played to make you happy, but our Angela drew the line about the same time she started high school.”
“I suppose,” Eva sighed. Then she perked up and half turned one more time. “Where do you go to high school, dear?”
“I don’t.”
“Oh, you have to get an education, dear. After all, knowledge is power.”
“Power is power,” Byleth snarled. She should have power. She should be able to reach into the dark heart of humanity and twist it to her purposes. Not only had some extra anatomy put an unexpected crimp in her plans—and she was so going to kick that angel’s ass when she found him—but her current minions gave her very little to work with.
“Hey, Mr. Porter, that guy in the import flipped you the finger as he passed.”
Which is not to say she didn’t do what she could.
“Harry, that’s no reason for you to drive faster,” Eva warned.
He smiled at her briefly. “Of course not.”
But the speed crept up.
It didn’t take much to keep it rising.
The inevitable siren brought a smile and a frisson of anticipation.
Lips pressed into a disapproving line, Eva kept silent as Harry pulled over and turned off the engine.
Behind them, a car door slammed and footsteps approached along the gravel shoulder. When Harry rolled down his window, Byleth straightened to get a better look.
“License and registration, please.”
The Ontario Provincial Police constable was tall and tanned, his hair gleaming gold in the winter sunlight. His eyes were blue, his voice was deep, and his chin had the cutest cleft. The breadth of his shoulders filled the window.
“Do you know how fast you were going, sir?”
In the back seat, Byleth sat up straighter, tugging at her jacket.
“I’m sorry, Officer. Some kid passed me in a sporty little import, and I guess I just rose to the challenge.”
A quick swipe of her tongue across her lips. Did she still have any lipstick on? She knew she should have put more on at the last rest stop.
“You can’t let other people do the driving in your car, sir.”
That was clever. He wasn’t only the cutest thing she’d seen since she arrived, he was smart, too.
“Now 113km in an 80 should be a three-hundred-dollar fine and six points off your license, but…”
Why didn’t he look at her?
“…I’m going to let you off with a warning. This time. If I pull you over again…” His voice trailed off.
And he was merciful.
Handing back Harry’s paperwork, he finally glanced into the back seat, but his gaze slid over her like she was completely unworthy of being noticed.
Arms folded, brows in, she slid back into her slouch, achieving new lows. What the hell did she care about merciful anyway?
“Thank you, Officer.”
“Drive safely, sir. Have a good day, ma’am. Miss.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Whatever.”
He glanced into the back again, then he smiled at Harry. “Teenagers, eh?”
“Teenagers, eh?” Byleth mocked as the officer returned to his cruiser. “What a jerk.”
“Good-looking man, though. Wasn’t he, dear?”
“I never noticed. And what are you smiling about?” she demanded as the Porters exchanged an amused glance.
“Nothing.”
“Good.” Glaring straight ahead, she refused to acknowledge the police car as it passed, repeating, “Jerk. Jerk. Jerk. Jerk,” vehemently under her breath.
“Careful, Austin.” Scooping him back up onto the seat, Claire wore a worried expression. “Are you all right? You were sound asleep, and then…”
“And then I wasn’t. Yeah, I know.” He got his legs untangled and climbed over to her right thigh, where he could stand and look out the window. “Something we passed woke me up.”
“Do you want me to pull over?” Dean asked.
“No.” He put a paw on the glass and watched the traffic across the median speeding south. “It’s gone now.”