Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(66)

Damian was dressed as he had been the night with the Gryndors. His butter-soft jeans hung off his trim waist, and the black leather jacket—which she’d come to realize was his favorite—hung open, revealing the powder-blue Henley beneath. The only difference was that his hair, usually hanging loose by his jaw, had been pulled into a low nubbin of a tail, away from his eyes and emphasizing his sculpted cheekbones.

“You opening the door, little witch, or do you plan on staring at me all night in admiration from the other side?” Damian joked, his gorgeous lips twitching.

She yanked the door open with a flourish, and then it was his turn to ogle. Lust darkened his gaze as he ran it from tip to toe, and when he met her back in the middle, her Magic—not to mention her body—really liked what she saw.

“You were saying something about admiration, doc?” Rose teased.

“Hunting rule number two: blend in until it becomes impossible, or unnecessary.”

“Are you saying I’ll stick out in a crowd or blend in too well? I can go change, but it might take a while…”

Damian snorted. “Who the fuck am I kidding? It doesn’t matter what you wear or where you go. You’ll always stand out from others.”

She smiled. “That’s actually sweet.”

“It’s not sweet. It’s exhibit A of why bounty hunting isn’t for you.” He grumbled, almost sullen.

Smirking, she grabbed her keys and stepped into the hall before giving his chest an affectionate pat. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not that easily swayed.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

They headed downstairs where Rose wasn’t surprised to find Damian’s motorcycle parked along the curb. This time, two helmets hung from the bars, and she picked one just as she heard her name.

Her neighbor, Mrs. Powers, rolled her wired grocery cart, her feisty Chihuahua, Coco, sitting in the basket. As she approached, the older woman gave Damian an assessing once-over. “I wasn’t so sure that was you at first, dear.”

Rose’s cheeks flushed. “It’s me. Do you need help getting your groceries upstairs?”

“No, no, but thanks for the offer. I was hoping I’d run into you though, to remind you about that night out we talked about. It’s this Friday if you’re still interested.” The older woman’s gaze flickered to Damian patiently waiting astride his bike. “But you might have other plans on a weekend night, and I can’t say that I’d blame you for keeping them.”

“I wouldn’t miss a night out with you for the world, Mrs. P. Count me in.”

Mrs. Powers beamed. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Great! Guess I’ll see you there. You remember how to get there, right?”

“Sure do.”

With a smile on her face, her neighbor shuffled her way toward their building, shooting a final look back toward her—and flashing a sly wink—before the door shut behind her.

Rose turned toward Damian, and found him with a near-matching smirk, his eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Night out with the neighbor lady?” Damian chuckled as she climbed onto the motorcycle behind him. “Seems like it could be too much fun for a witch to handle. Can you afford to be brought in by the police again?”

“Go ahead and joke, but I have a lot of fun when I hang out with Mrs. Powers. Don’t let that sweet old lady exterior fool you. She aided and abetted Vi’s Great Fire Escape escape. The lady has moves.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“If you’re a good bounty hunter mentor, maybe I’ll tell you about it.”

With a humorous chuckle, he revved the engine, and waited until she wrapped her arms around his waist. The second her fingers locked over his abdomen, he took off like a demon out of hell.

Julius had sent over the file on Virginia Cummings earlier that day, and she’d read the thing nearly four times since, memorizing every detail from her crimes—including, but not limited to, racketeering and the import of rare, dangerous, and stolen magical artifacts—to all her favorite local hangouts.

Even her undying love for the Jonas Brothers made it onto the dossier. And it just so happened that the Jonases were performing their last show of their current tour at Madison Square Garden, and all intel pointed to the upper-level demon enjoying the concert from her private box seat. If habits held true, she’d duck out of the venue a few minutes before the end of the concert to avoid the mass exit.

But now after hours of waiting, Rose wondered if Virginia had decided to shirk her old habits, because the show was about to let out and there was still no sign of the demon.

Slowly rolling her neck to work out the building tension, she paced as Damian watched from his leaning perch against the building, his astuteness fueling her nerves even more.

“Keep up the back and forth and you’ll wear a hole in the cement,” Damian warned.

From an unusually empty Betz Pavilion, she glanced across Thirty-Third Street where music thumped from the event center. “What if she slipped out another exit? Maybe we should split up and walk the block.”

“We’re not splitting up. All our resources—and the fact Faroi demons are creatures of habit—say she’ll exit through these doors and cut across the pavilion. It’s just a matter of time.”