Demons Prefer Blondes (Demons Unleashed #1)(63)

“Remember, she takes many forms. An innocent baby, your prized family pet, a friend… a sister.”

He’d said enough. Lamia had come to him as his sister. How terrible! As she prepared for another sliding stop, the car rumbling and groaning beneath them, she turned to him. “I’m sorry, Rafe.”

Sucking in a breath, Rafe nodded. “No need. It’s not your fault.” His eyes flickered and flared with each word. “I’m glad the chest ended up in your friend’s and your hands. Had it ended up elsewhere, we’d have an even more serious problem.”

“But you yourself said I was inept.”

Rafe winced.

“Okay, maybe not in such harsh terms, but you know.”

“I apologize. I’ve just never seen any woman, demon or not—besides Jacoba—so determined to save the world.”

“Jacoba?”

“My sister.”

“Oh.” Talk about an awkward moment.

The way too quiet pregnant pause was interrupted by the cell phone—again! Now she officially disliked Justin Timberlake.

“What now?” she muttered as she dug the cell phone from her pocket. Gazing down at the display, she arched an eyebrow. Home? What the hell?

“About time,” came the squeak.

“Hey Squeaks,” she said, her voice chipper. “What’s up?”

Squeaky huffed, a sound that came out more like a strangled chipmunk. “Where the hell youse at?”

“We’re almost there. It’s a little slippery out here.”

“Hurry up already. The Boss needs to eat.”

“Boss? Eat?” What the heck?

“Fuggedaboutit,” Squeaky growled. “As for eating, I still have to nourish the chimpanzee body I’m borrowing.”

“There’s food in the fridge.”

“You call that food?” Squeaky giggled. “Frozen lasagna in a box ain’t my idea of a meal. Don Corleone would be rolling in his grave.”

Time to make this chimp her own offer he wouldn’t be able to refuse. “So you want lasagna, eh?”

“Yes. Homemade lasagna, with fresh tomato, garlic, and basil.” He harrumphed as if she wouldn’t be able to honor said request. She had that ace up her sleeve.

“You’re in luck, Don Squeakleone.”

“How so?” His voice raised an octave in avid interest.

“When Rafe and I return, you’re heading to Serah’s work to guard her.”

“How does this involve filling my chimp gut with lasagna?”

She rolled her eyes. “Serah’s a caterer.” She curved her lips into a wide smile. “An Italian caterer.”

“Italian?” Squeaky asked in an inquisitive tone.

It was time to seal the deal. “Her lasagna is the best on this side of state. Even better than Vinnie’s Ristorante.”

“Tell me more.”

Taking a deep breath, she recalled the first time she tasted Serah’s signature dish. Heaven on a plate, yet still sinful. Her mouth watered just thinking about it.

“Homemade tomato sauce, oregano, and basil. Five cheesy layers, sausage, and beef. Mmm. Did I mention real ricotta cheese? No cottage cheese tainting her lasagna.” That always hooked ’em.

“I’m drooling just thinking about it,” he replied with giddy laughter. “So when youse gonna get here?”

“Five minutes, okay?”

“A’ight.”

“Squeaky?”

“Yeah?”

“You need to lay off The Sopranos.”

“Fuggedaboudit.”

Oh well, she tried. “Bye,” she said, snapping the phone shut.

Rafe blew out a deep breath. “All set?”

“Yep,” she said, hanging a right onto her street. Home sweet home. “Squeaky thinks you don’t like him.”

Rafe snorted. “I was a little put off at first.”

“He does have a unique vocal presence.”

“Bloody annoying,” Rafe said with a throaty chuckle. “But he’s growing on me, voice and all.”

“That’s cool.” Was she starting to grow on him too? From the way they locked lips, something grew. Every time they touched, whether just a simple brush or their Titanic-like kiss, one thing was certain. Electricity sparked in the air. Her heart raced. Dang, she was hopeless.

With a deep sigh, she took a left into the snow-piled driveway. Her tiny, yet completely functional, bungalow, despite the size, stood warm and welcoming. A trail of smoke blew from the chimney. Way to warm the house, Squeaky.

“We’re back,” she said as she chugged into the driveway and skated the car to a stop. Wind blew snow across the yard, and the maple tree swayed with each mighty gust. One way, then the other. Weird… strange… unnatural.

Branches snapped, falling into the cold fluff below. Completely reminiscent of a bad Stephen King made-for-TV movie. Now this was the storm of the twenty-first century—demons included.

Screams and howls rent the air. Thick cold breaths of snow sliced into her face as she trod up the walkway to the porch. A branch snapped and propelled into her chest.

Her breath left her body in a giant whoosh as she slammed backward. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, steadying her. The intoxicating scent of peppermint and exotic spices wafted to her nose.