Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Luke Teivel is the son of Lucifer…and he’s been banned from Hell. The captain’s words repeated themselves in Sorcha’s head.
Sorcha had absolutely no idea how to react to that. Her first instinct was to laugh and leave. Any normal person receiving that information would definitely run for the door.
But she wasn’t normal and neither was Infernal Affairs.
This was an organization set up to deal with preternatural things regular law enforcement couldn’t handle.
She’d known about them most of her life.
Her father, who’d been a police captain in Jackson, Mississippi, had told her stories of working with them during the late eighties when they’d been founded.
Because of her “abilities” that had kicked in during her teenage years, her father had recommended her to Elana.
But the son of Lucifer…
How was that even possible?
“You’re kidding.”
Elana shook her head slowly. “Believe me, I know how it sounds. When we first encountered him…it was quite spectacular. Yet here we are.”
Yeah, okay… “And how are we here?”
“I was banished from Hell. Let’s leave it at that.”
Sorcha gasped as Luke’s deep, resonant voice intruded on their conversation.
How on Earth did a man that size move so silently? At least six-five, maybe six-six, he towered over them.
And he was dressed black on black, including a long leather coat in the simmering heat. How he could stomach that in this humid weather, she had no idea. She was only wearing a white V-neck T-shirt and black slacks and she was roasting.
But there was one question she had to have an answer to. “What does someone do to get banished from Hell?”
Again, that infectious grin spread across his face. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”
Yes, it was. “Did you deserve it?”
His grin turned charming. “Of course, I did. Pissing off Old Scratch is what I do best.” He winked at her. “Now saddle up, detective. We’re heading out.”
Sorcha’s jaw fell open. Uh, yeah. Heading off alone with the son of the devil who’d been banished from Hell just didn’t seem like the smartest or sanest thing to do.
She looked at her boss.
“You heard the demon. Saddle up.” Chuckling, Elana headed back toward their offices.
“Do I get a gun?” she called after Elana.
“Won’t need one with Luke as your partner. And if you shoot him, you’ll only piss him off.”
What did that mean? Sorcha was afraid to ask. Had someone tried to shoot?
She glanced over to see that Luke was quickly making strides back toward the building where he’d vanished to change from his black board shorts into a black shirt, jeans and coat.
Rushing to catch up, she was quickly rethinking her decision to take this job. Not that she had any choice after what she’d done.
Why…why did I shoot my partner?
For the first time, she regretted it. Was this her punishment? To be paired with a partner she couldn’t hurt?
“It’ll be fine,” she said under her breath, mocking her father’s words. “You’ll fit right in. It’ll be the best job you’ve ever had. You’ll love it there! Savannah’s awesome! Just wait. You’ll see.”
Luke paused at the first garage door to turn and frown at her. “Psychotic episode or Tourette’s?”
“Pardon?”
He waved his hand at her. “Your…whatever mumbling. Is it a psychotic episode or some other thing I need to know about? Is it a one-off or something recurring I’ll have to explain to others?”
“Call it frustration. Shock. Denial. Disbelief…incredulity. I like that one.”
He snorted. “Yeah well, working with you isn’t my perfect tea party, either. I’m not exactly thrilled by those who have ties to my enemies.”
“What?”
He reached down to open the garage door manually. “Oh, don’t play all innocent like you don’t know your bloodline. I can smell it on you.”
What was he talking about? “Apparently, I don’t. What do you know that my family failed to tell me?”
After lifting the door, he froze. “Nothing. If you don’t know, there’s probably a reason for it and I shouldn’t have said anything.” He wagged his eyebrows at her. “Shall we?” He gestured toward…
Sorcha looked at the old vintage car and felt her heart sink with vicious dread. “Is that…Christine?” Which would make total sense given that he was the son of the devil. Why not have Christine as his car?
He gave her a droll stare. “No. Not even. Don’t you dare insult this lady like that.
Christine was a boring average automobile.
This…this is a Gauguin Red 1957 Chrysler 300C.
The first muscle car ever made. Built for speed and luxury, she was innovation incarnate.
The first of her kind. The perfect marriage of aggression and beauty.
And she is always forward looking. A perfect example of modernity and putting the past behind you while remaking the future into what you want it to be. She’s just like me. A perfect being.”
Wow…
Where did she even begin unpacking that statement?
“You don’t suffer from any lack of self-esteem, do you?”
“I do not.” He pulled the keys from his pocket as he opened the car door and got in.
Sorcha went to her side and had to admit the car was exceptionally pretty for an antique.
And damned if he didn’t look incredible sitting in it. The huge convertible fit him to a T.
As she sat down beside him, he leaned across her lap.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“Relax,” he said, opening the glove box. He pulled out a red University of Georgia ball cap and handed it to her. “Long hair and convertibles make for a mess.”
“What about you?”
Of all the things in the universe, he pulled a pink hair tie off his gearshift and tied his hair up in what had to be the manliest man bun she’d ever seen and given the fact she absolutely hated man buns and thought them completely stupid, that said something.
“You look like you should be a biker.”
“Hell’s Angel?” he shot back with that infectious grin.
She rolled her eyes. “Are they demons too?”
“No…but some of them will have a nice long conversation with my dad when they cross over.”
Awesome.
“Turn on the radio, please. I need music.”
Sorcha gasped as a tiny woman came out of nowhere and leaned forward between them from the backseat. Around the age of twenty, she had straight, dark brown hair with high arched brows and dark red lips. There was a mischievous air to her that said she was always plotting something.
Sorcha’s heart pounding from startled alarm, she scowled. “Where did you come from?”
“Hell,” she said with a shrug. “It’s not as bad as you think…it’s worse.”
Sorcha turned toward Luke. “Explain?”
“Imp, meet Sorcha. Sorcha, Imp.” He turned the car on and it roared to life like a rumbling beast.
“Imp?” Sorcha asked.
She nodded. “You can call me that or Helly. I answer to both with an equal dose of restraint and resentment.”
Interesting. The name Helly somehow seemed to fit with her lip piercing and dark clothing. She looked like someone who would hang out with Luke, except she was as tiny as Luke was huge.
But Helly’s presence definitely confused her. “I thought you didn’t have a partner.”
Helly snorted. “Not his partner… I’m his damn-it-dog.”
“Excuse me?” Had she heard what she thought she had? “Damn-it-dog?”
Helly shrugged nonchalantly as Luke pulled out of the garage, parked and went to close the door manually. “You know, the thing you curse because it’s always getting in the way. I was assigned to him at birth by his mother. She’s a real bitch.” She snickered at that.
Sorcha was surprised that Luke took the fact Helly called his mother a bitch in stride.
Okay, then. I guess he’s not close with his mom.
She had no idea what to make of them as Luke returned to the car and got in.
But damn, he made an incredible sight with that sexy, masculine swagger. She hated how alluring a beast he was even wearing a long coat on a hot summer day.
Put it out of your mind.
So much easier said than done. Especially when someone was that innately delectable. “So where’s this Peachtree City?”
He pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street. “About four hours away. Depending on how many police cars I have to blow past.”
She winced at his words. There were few things she hated more than traveling…and in a car it was double grueling. Even with a sexy driver. “Can you teleport us there?”
He passed a droll stare toward her. “You’re with Infernal Affairs. Don’t you know anything about demons?”
“A great deal, but with you being the son of the devil, I’d expect you to have more abilities than most.”
Luke cleared his throat as he caught Helly’s amused gaze in his rearview mirror.
His new partner wasn’t wrong.
But giving strangers insight into his abilities was as likely as Helly giving someone her real name. Such things allowed others to have power and control over them. The less people knew, the better.
So he grinned at Sorcha and turned up the radio.
She listened for a few minutes, then turned it down. “Skillet? Why do you keep listening to Christian music? Isn’t that a little off brand for your ilk?”
“Ilk?” Luke repeated. “There’s a word you don’t hear every day.
” He glanced over at her and shook his head.
“As for my music, I love Christian rock. The faith? The message? There’s no sweeter reward than handing the faithful over to my dad.
At least that used to be my goal. Now, I’m trying to think of a way to start reclaiming those souls I helped damn and really pissing off Old Scratch.
Bastard deserves it. And I love revenge. ”
Then he did the most shocking thing of all. He actually quoted the Bible. “Vengeance is Mine saith the Lord. I shall repay.”
But she supposed it made sense. He’d probably read the Bible more than she had, and given her Baptist grandfather and upbringing…
Impressive.
“How many souls have you damned?”
He flinched as if he honestly felt guilty about it. “We don’t talk about that. Ever. The past is the past and we don’t revisit bad territory.” There was a deep undercurrent to those words. One that sent a shiver down her spine.