Dark Desires After Dusk (Immortals After Dark #6)(53)

Her sword whistled down, missing his shoulder by millimeters. “Holly, back the hell down. We’re done.”

Eyes glowing silver, she said, “I’m just getting started.”

He realized that if he couldn’t hurt her, he’d have to fight dirty. When she charged once more, he spun around to get behind her. He lightly kicked the back of her knee, sending her off balance.

“Ooh!” Even as she staggered she swung a roundhouse slash. A picture on the wall fell victim.

“Now, are you done—”

Banging on the door sounded. A deep voice outside said, “Open up, this is the police.”

Her face went white, her jaw slackening. The sword dipped in her limp hand. “Oh, my God!” she whispered. “What are we going to do?”

Cade himself was about to have a ball with this. “Duuude,” he murmured. “You are going-to-jail.”





24





What do you mean?” she cried.

“Jail, the big house, the two-legged zoo—”

“I know that! But why am I going there?”

Cade answered, “Your eyes are silver. And that demon brew gels in your blood for days. As soon as the cops break down the door, and see you amidst this destruction, you’re off to roll call, baby.”

“Oh, God, oh, God! I’ve never even had a speeding ticket!” Biting her claws, she said, “This is all your fault! You started it!” Her panicked gaze darted around the room. “Quick! Help me clean up—”

More banging.

“No time, Holly. But you know, I could probably fix this.”

“How?”

“You let me worry about that.”

He’d lived nine hundred years—surely he’d learned what to do in situations like this. Yes, Cadeon will take care of this. She gave him a grateful look.

“But you have to do something for me as well.”

Her face fell. “It figures that you’d put a condition on this. What do you want?”

“You have to watch TV with me, a movie of my choice.”

Where was the harm in that? She loved . . . “Oh! You mean one of those movies!” He’d told her he would get her to watch one before the trip was over. “Never, Cadeon. Not in a million years.”

“Even when I can make this all go away?”

From outside, the policeman said, “Open up! We’ve been getting noise complaints.”

“Oh, God!” she whispered. “One scene. I’ll watch just one scene. If you can take care of this.”

“Deal.” He turned for his room, collecting his hat and an envelope from his duffle bag. At the doorway between their rooms, he said, “Try not to break the law again before I get back,” then shut the door.

When she heard him exiting from his front door, she realized he was going to act as if he were merely a neighbor. Clever demon . . .

But what if something went wrong? What if they still demanded to see the room? She surveyed the debris in abject fear.

How can I get rid of the evidence?

Hitting on an idea, she began dismantling the remains of the table, breaking off legs and stuffing the pieces under the bed. Broken lamps and sliced pillows joined the collection.

Thirty nerve-shattering minutes passed before Cadeon returned. “What happened? Tell me!”

“Everything’s taken care of.”

She frowned. “You smell like beer.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, Holly, like me and the cop were downing a beer together.”

*

Of course, he and the cop had completely been downing a beer together.

They’d sat in a booth in the motel’s lounge as Cade spun tales that the man didn’t hear because he was too busy staring at the stack of cash Cade offered him. The small town cop seemed an honest enough guy, but he had five kids and Christmas was coming. What was he supposed to do?

“No one’s going to want to come in?” Holly asked.

He shook his head. “Not unless you start back up again. The room looks great, by the way.” It was cleaner than when they’d first come—except now it had less furniture. “So, I did my part, Holls. Looks like it’s showtime.”

“I can’t believe you are going to make me watch something I’m opposed to.”

“You put it down, but you’ve never viewed it? The bra-burner’s a tad hypocritical, no?”

“Though I’ve not yet tried drinking acid, I still put it down. And don’t call me a bra-burner! There’s no need to make fun of my feminism.”

“First of all, I’m not making fun—I’m poking fun. And second of all, I’m doing it to your face.”

“What does that mean?”

“If we bandy the subject, at least you know where I stand and you get a chance to persuade me to your way of thinking. Can you say the same about the other men in your life? The yes men?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Meaning Tim.”

“He’s not as perfect as you like to think.” Naturally, Cade despised him with a deep and virulent hatred. But Cade had also gotten the feeling that Tim wasn’t the lap-dog he appeared to be.

“No, maybe he’s not perfect,” she said. “But I bet he doesn’t consider women to be tarts, who should be in a man’s bed twenty-four hours a day.”