the garage door switch and waited until the door was fully down before he went inside the house. Without turning on any lights, he headed straight back to his bedroom. As inviting as his king-size bed was, he needed to get himself cleaned up before he could collapse between the sheets. It was after three a.m. and he was exhausted. He’d never had such a hard time getting women to cooperate. He’d spent a small fortune buying drinks and had gotten nowhere.
He shed his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the bedroom floor, and padded naked into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and jumped in. The lighted overhead water jet and four side shower heads wet him down in seconds. Goose bumps popped out on his skin until the water warmed up. A few minutes later he haphazardly toweled off and then crawled into bed naked. His body immediately relaxed against the memory foam mattress, but his restless mind wouldn’t let him sleep.
His questioning at the club tonight had been subtle. He’d bought drink after drink, showered women with flattery and cajoled them with charm, but none he’d encountered was involved with the rogue pret group. He was sure of it. He could tell when people lied—there was a twitch of a muscle here, a slight flicker of an eye there—and none of the lovely ladies had so much as fluttered an eyelash except when they were flirting with him.
There was only one person who came to mind that could hide when she was lying. Keira. He knew her background, that she’d been a con artist with her husband in the other dimension. Her husband had died before he could be sent through the rift, so Keira had been sent alone. In the past she’d relied on her grifting skills from time to time, but for the last several hundred years she’d pretty much walked the straight and narrow as far as he knew.
He admired her for that. She had been strong enough, determined enough, to change who she was. He hadn’t, and she deserved better than him. He should keep his distance.
Now if only his body, and his heart, would pay attention, he’d be all right while he lived out his life alone.
Chapter Three
The next evening, Finn rolled his bike to a stop in a parking spot near the front door of the Pixie Dust Lounge. He cut the engine and sat for a moment. The parking lot was well lit. The large sign on top of the building was neon, the pink outline of a woman with back arched and breasts outthrust was the main component. A glitter of cascading sparkles created the illusion of fairy dust streaming down from one of the figure’s outstretched hands.
He wasn’t a stranger to these kinds of joints; he actually spent quite a bit of time in one or another. In reality he ended up in places like this not because he wanted to be there but because he’d tracked down a demon that needed to be reminded of the rules.
There weren’t many guidelines for demon behavior, but Lucifer demanded absolute adherence to the few that were in place. When a demon broke one, Finn tracked him down. Usually at a strip club, because most demons—like any other male—had a thing for naked girls.
Tonight, though, he was here on his own. To talk, not watch pole dancers, though he was just as red-blooded as the next guy. He foresaw lots more talking in his future even though he was used to banging heads together to get what he wanted. He preferred banging heads together to get what he wanted. This whole business of trying to persuade people through verbal communication was making him psycho. He realized head bangings wouldn’t get him the desired results, so he was adapting.
See? Anyone who said he couldn’t learn and grow was just shooting shit.
He heaved a sigh and got off the bike. Pocketing the key, he swiped his palms down his jean-clad thighs and headed toward the front door. As he reached out for the knob, the door swung open. Finn jumped back to avoid getting hit, and scowled when a Surtur demon named Phoebus walked out of the building.
Surturs were called fire giants by humans, but among their own kind they referred to themselves by the name of the planet they came from. They could put their hands on someone and, if they wanted to, literally kill them with a touch by