Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,78
Don’t think about the witch. Think about the Lollipop. So what if there was a surprise hidden inside that candy-coated shell? He’d make it work. Sassy was sheltered and pampered, and that equaled easy to control. A shopping splurge once in a while and she’d be happy.
Happy Sassy he liked. Happy Sassy had dollar signs written all over her luscious little body. Evan had plans for Happy Sassy.
Scary Sassy would roll your ass in powdered sugar and eat you.
A sign on the grassy berm indicated a sharp bend ahead. The car rounded the curve in the road like it was on rails. The 444-horsepower engine under the hood was seriously kickass. Zero to sixty in five seconds—closest to flying he could remember—packaged in a hot, tight little body. The interior of the car screamed money. Hand-crafted Italian leather seats hugged his ass like a favorite pair of jeans. Integrated headrests. Elegant wood trim on the dash and door panels. A Bose sound system that was creamy on the ears.
Too bad the “repairs” Grim had made when he’d fished the sports car out of the drink had changed the car—and not for the better. The Maserati, like most things Hannah, was hinky. Damn demon hunters could screw up a wet dream.
Turning off the patched asphalt, Evan guided the car along the wooded drive to the house. A van marked Behr Telephone sat on the pavement. Arms crossed on his muscled chest, Grim watched the repairman through narrowed eyes, like he expected the guy to break out in demon any moment.
Mea tooted her horn in greeting and made for the three-car garage like a horse headed to the barn.
Evan applied pressure to the brakes. The car kept going.
“Stop.” He rammed his foot into the pedal. “Sassy says.”
The Maserati skidded to a halt with an angry growl, and Evan got out. The driver’s door slammed shut of its own accord.
Evan jumped clear and booted the car in the back tire. “Bitch.”
Mea farted exhaust fumes in his face and spun off.
Coughing, Evan turned to find the workman watching him, open mouthed. Evan sauntered up to the norm, whose badge identified him as Steve.
“Remote control.” Evan gave the norm a bland smile. “European technology. Still has a few glitches.”
The guy relaxed. “The more bells and whistles a car has, the more can go wrong. I’m a Ford man, m’self.”
“You’re a regular philosopher, Steve. Phone working?”
“Uh yep.” The man clipped a two-way radio onto his belt. “Somebody cut the line. I fixed ’er.”
“You’re the man, Steve.”
Grim strode up. “My thanks.” A flat pouch appeared in his hand. “Allow me to recompense you for your trouble.”
The man blinked. “Whoa, what the—”
“Steve will put it on the monthly bill.” Evan clapped the guy on the back. “Won’t you, Steve?”
“Sure.” The man climbed into his vehicle. He stuck his head out the window, his confused gaze on Grim. “Say, how’d you—?”
“Stay cool, Steve.” Evan gave the guy a thumbs-up. “Don’t let the bastards get you down.”
The repairman left.
“Jesus, dude. You can’t pull that shit around norms,” Evan said. “It freaks them the hell out.”
“You are right. I violated the Directive against Conspicuousness. My thoughts are disordered by Sassy’s illness.”
“She ate a freaking bakery and puked. She’ll live.”
Grim fixed him with a glare that would slice through a steel girder. “How can you be certain?”
“She’s a demonoid. We heal fast.”
“Sassy is but a fraction demon.”
“That’s like saying someone’s a little bit pregnant. Take it easy, man. You’re wound too tight.”
Grim took a deep breath and blew it out. “If what you say is true, then I am glad Sassy is a demonoid.”
Evan surveyed the big warrior. The poor guy was in bad shape. The Big ’Un had really slipped his chain over the Lollipop.
“Your wallet looks a little thin.” Evan’s words surprised him. “You low on cash?”
Grim looked blank. “Cash? I fear I do not—”
“Cabbage. Cheddar. Greenbacks. Moolah.”
“You refer to currency? I am without funds at the moment.” Grim frowned. “A circumstance I should have considered before I offered to pay that human. If you had not intervened—”
Evan grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket. “Busted, huh?” Spare him another lecture on the Dalvahni Directive. “Been there, done that.”
He opened his billfold and shoved a Benjamin at Grim. “Here ya go. You can pay me back later.”
Grim turned the bill over, examining it. “This is paper.”
“What else, genius?”
“Coin of some sort. Gold or silver have value in most realms.”
“Those spend. Paper’s lighter.” Evan shrugged. “Debit cards are handy. I