little to the imagination, and as she wondered about their contents, he stirred. Her stare flew to his face.
Ice green. Frost-covered emeralds, her brain noted. His eyes were a glacier.
“Well, that hurt a bit.” His voice matched his appearance: wicked, rich.
Her cheeks flamed and she scuttled away from him.
He reached up and rubbed at his temple. “No need to run off quite yet. At least allow me to introduce myself.”
He sat up and Nic got stalled by the deliberate, predatory way he moved, as if he were a jaguar waking from a catnap — ready to pounce on her if she bolted. She stayed frozen in a half crouch.
“I am the help you requested.” He offered her a smug, feline grin. “You Called for me.”
She noticed the way he’d drawn out the word “called,” like it had a double meaning. The weight of her gun bolstered her shaky confidence. “Are you a friend of Drew’s?”
“I doubt it.”
He was tall with the tight, bold frame of an athlete, but the tattoos and shiny jewelry didn’t match up with the quarterback image. Neither did the shoulder-length blue-black hair. He reminded her of a rock star — not of the pop, pretty-boy variety. More like the kind associated with screaming guitars and bra-tossing women; the type who dressed in leather pants and sexed up the groupies backstage with a bottle of liquor in one hand and a death wish in the other.
Then it hit her. This guy was some big-time drug dealer’s henchman; one look at the jewelry and the pricey shirt said it all. Had her brother gotten into trafficking to support his habit? Maybe there was a chance he’d been kidnapped and they’d sent a representative to collect a ransom. No wonder Drew’s loser best friend, Jimmy, hadn’t wanted to talk over the phone when she’d called him. They were probably watching him too. “How much money do you want?”
“I’m not here for money.”
His smile made her wonder what else he might accept for payment. Could he be part of the cleanup crew there to make sure no evidence had gotten left behind? “Who do you work for?”
He laughed, flashing straight, white teeth in a crooked grin. “I don’t work for anyone except you.”
Huh? “Why are you here?”
When he rose to his feet so did she. He was a full head and shoulders taller than she was and almost twice as wide.
He held his arms out toward her, palms up. “I am First Born of the Asmodai, eldest son of Asmodeus, and a Prince of the Nine Hells. I am the answer to your seeking. I am Helper. I am Arden.” At the end of his speech he bowed low over his knees.
Nic giggled. Then the giggling turned into laughter. Maybe it was the stress over Drew, or the fear, or the precise formality of his delivery, but she laughed until tears stood in her eyes. Her brother had gone crazy, this man in front of her too, and she was on the fast track to following them both.
“Not exactly the response I am accustomed to,” he said between his teeth.
“Sorry.” She swiped the wetness from her cheeks. “I really don’t know how you said all that with a straight face. I bet whoever you work for loves your sense of humor.”
“I work for you.”
His dry delivery was spot-on. Maybe his employer picked him for his acting ability. “OK, really, how much money?”
“Stop asking about money and explain yourself. You’re the one who Called me .”
“I didn’t call you.”
“You did.”
The charade didn’t amuse her. “All right, buddy, you’ve had your laugh and now it’s time to get real.” Nic aimed her Ruger at his head and marched over to search him. She’d call the cops once she knew he wasn’t armed. Of course then she’d have to listen to the local PD guys rib her about being a rent-a-cop, but oh well. Maybe they could get answers out of him.
Her hand met hard muscle as she felt around his chest and ribs. She’d frisked people before, but none had made the hair stand up on the back of her neck or warmth flood her veins. She did a
Ice green. Frost-covered emeralds, her brain noted. His eyes were a glacier.
“Well, that hurt a bit.” His voice matched his appearance: wicked, rich.
Her cheeks flamed and she scuttled away from him.
He reached up and rubbed at his temple. “No need to run off quite yet. At least allow me to introduce myself.”
He sat up and Nic got stalled by the deliberate, predatory way he moved, as if he were a jaguar waking from a catnap — ready to pounce on her if she bolted. She stayed frozen in a half crouch.
“I am the help you requested.” He offered her a smug, feline grin. “You Called for me.”
She noticed the way he’d drawn out the word “called,” like it had a double meaning. The weight of her gun bolstered her shaky confidence. “Are you a friend of Drew’s?”
“I doubt it.”
He was tall with the tight, bold frame of an athlete, but the tattoos and shiny jewelry didn’t match up with the quarterback image. Neither did the shoulder-length blue-black hair. He reminded her of a rock star — not of the pop, pretty-boy variety. More like the kind associated with screaming guitars and bra-tossing women; the type who dressed in leather pants and sexed up the groupies backstage with a bottle of liquor in one hand and a death wish in the other.
Then it hit her. This guy was some big-time drug dealer’s henchman; one look at the jewelry and the pricey shirt said it all. Had her brother gotten into trafficking to support his habit? Maybe there was a chance he’d been kidnapped and they’d sent a representative to collect a ransom. No wonder Drew’s loser best friend, Jimmy, hadn’t wanted to talk over the phone when she’d called him. They were probably watching him too. “How much money do you want?”
“I’m not here for money.”
His smile made her wonder what else he might accept for payment. Could he be part of the cleanup crew there to make sure no evidence had gotten left behind? “Who do you work for?”
He laughed, flashing straight, white teeth in a crooked grin. “I don’t work for anyone except you.”
Huh? “Why are you here?”
When he rose to his feet so did she. He was a full head and shoulders taller than she was and almost twice as wide.
He held his arms out toward her, palms up. “I am First Born of the Asmodai, eldest son of Asmodeus, and a Prince of the Nine Hells. I am the answer to your seeking. I am Helper. I am Arden.” At the end of his speech he bowed low over his knees.
Nic giggled. Then the giggling turned into laughter. Maybe it was the stress over Drew, or the fear, or the precise formality of his delivery, but she laughed until tears stood in her eyes. Her brother had gone crazy, this man in front of her too, and she was on the fast track to following them both.
“Not exactly the response I am accustomed to,” he said between his teeth.
“Sorry.” She swiped the wetness from her cheeks. “I really don’t know how you said all that with a straight face. I bet whoever you work for loves your sense of humor.”
“I work for you.”
His dry delivery was spot-on. Maybe his employer picked him for his acting ability. “OK, really, how much money?”
“Stop asking about money and explain yourself. You’re the one who Called me .”
“I didn’t call you.”
“You did.”
The charade didn’t amuse her. “All right, buddy, you’ve had your laugh and now it’s time to get real.” Nic aimed her Ruger at his head and marched over to search him. She’d call the cops once she knew he wasn’t armed. Of course then she’d have to listen to the local PD guys rib her about being a rent-a-cop, but oh well. Maybe they could get answers out of him.
Her hand met hard muscle as she felt around his chest and ribs. She’d frisked people before, but none had made the hair stand up on the back of her neck or warmth flood her veins. She did a
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