One Handsome Devil (20 page)

"If you want him dead, let me do it. I can squeeze out his life as easily as I fixed your car. And in much the same way."

Sara sat down suddenly and put her hands over her face. “That's sick."

She read distress but he couldn't imagine why. “If Katra shot him, she would be in trouble with the law. My way would leave no evidence."

"That's just it. Katra was kidding. She wasn't really going to shoot him. I don't think you're joking at all."

Of course he wasn't joking. He didn't think Katra was either. Her anger was too genuine.

Katra must have been reading him. “I'm not joking right now. I suspect by the time we find him, though, I'll have cooled down."

He needed to stop projecting his emotions so freely. It was one thing to let Sara see into him in the heat of passion. It was something else, something dangerous, to let just anyone see. The oldest rule in Hell is never show your weakness.

"At any rate, I can't find him. I could pull up a few million imps and send them scouring the streets of Dallas but that would be dangerous for all of us."

Sara shuddered. “No imps."

"I thought you might feel that way.” He had no idea why he couldn't sense Derrick. The man had radiated a hateful aura when he'd trashed Sara's apartment. Even mixed with the other scents, the trail of that aura should have been easy to follow. Yet the trace died less than a mile from Sara's home. Almost as if Derrick knew a demon would be homing in on him and had deliberately gone to ground.

"So where are we going to spend the night?” he asked.

"Not here?” Katra looked confused. “Sara has more sheets. We can fix things up in no time."

Jack inhaled the acrid aura from the room. It was too much like home to be comfortable. “We should give it time for the hatred to fade."

"Let's go to the Alamo Courts,” Sara suggested. “I always wanted to check out a motel that charges by the hour."

"It's just like any motel but tackier,” Katra said.

Sara grabbed Katra by the chin. “Gotcha. Fess up."

Katra blushed. “It was nothing."

"Come on, who was it?"

Katra wiped her hands on her jeans. “Just one time, Steve Davis and I went there."

"Your old principal?"

Katra nodded glumly.

"But he's married."

"We got drunk and made a mistake. So sue me."

The Alamo sounded like a place of human suffering and distress. That sort of power was exactly what Jack needed to heal himself. “Sounds terrific. When do we leave?"

Twenty minutes later, the women were ready. Sara locked her door. Before they left, Jack traced a rune on the door. For as long as the spell lasted, Katra's apartment would be invisible to casual thieves. Only someone wanting to enter very badly would be able to do so. Anyone stubborn enough to break through the spell would send alarms through the aether that a television preacher could follow. It was unfortunate he hadn't thought to do that before the damage was done.

"What makes you so interested in the Alamo Courts?” Sara asked Jack.

"You know the story of the Alamo, of course. Where a small group of men were cut off, besieged, and overrun."

"This is nothing like that."

He shook his head. “I hope you're right. Something in the aether is telling me that Derrick is only the feint behind which our real threat hides."

"I really don't see that anything has changed.” The supercilious banker looked down his nose at Sara. “Although you do have some experience in prospecting and positive references, you have never managed a drilling crew."

His attitude indicated he didn't think that was likely to be happening any time soon, either.

"Drilling crews respect results, Mr. Barlett,” she said. “I've delivered results all my career."

Barlett paged through the papers in front of him. “That isn't the evidence I have here. According to this, your previous employers fired you for getting metaphysical on the job. Something about a dowser."

"How I deliver my results really is my business,” she reminded him. She was still reeling from the suddenness of her job loss coming as it did on top of the violation of her home.

"That's where you're wrong, Ms. Slocum.” Barlett straightened his tie and crossed one tassel-tied loafer over the other. “If we were to lend you money, how you use it would be very much our business."

Sara felt her shoulders slump despite her attempt to project confidence. “We have found a significant field in Northern Oklahoma. We have secured options on the mineral rights at a price fair both to our investors and to the owners. You have my personal guarantee, as well as the assurance of my partner, that the drilling will go smoothly. We're supposed to be having an energy crisis. Why don't you cut us some slack and we'll see what we can do about solving it?"

Barlett gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I'm a banker. I'll leave problem solving to politicians and psychologists, thank you very much. Now, unless you have something else to offer, or any additional collateral beyond the sadly aging Miata, I'm afraid our appointment is over."

Obviously Jack had been right when he'd told her to blow off this one. She'd only ignored his advice because they were at the end of their rope. Her grandmother had banked here for decades and Sara had thought that might be enough to at least get a hearing.

"I have my mother's engagement ring.” It was weak, Sara knew, but it was all she could put on the table. They needed this loan.

Barlett shuddered theatrically. “Then see a pawn shop by all means. Jewelry is never a good investment."

With his concave chest and protruding eyes, Sara suspected he spoke from personal experience. No diamond would be big enough to interest many women in this Cretan.

"I appreciate your time, then.” The words stuck in her throat but she forced them out. Whatever else, she was a Texas woman. She'd retain some vestiges of manners even if it killed her. Barlett had to be a Yankee.

"Oh, Ms. Slocum.” Barlett held up a hand like a policeman directing traffic.

"Yes?"

"I don't see a social security number for your partner. You aren't involved with an illegal immigrant here, are you? Your grandmother would be very concerned."

Her blood froze in her veins. She hoped she wasn't sputtering as obviously as she seemed to be. Finally she pulled together enough composure to answer. “Since you aren't lending me money, I suggest you mind your own business."

"Your grandmother is concerned about you, you know. Why don't you give up this foolishness and look for a more feminine job."

Yeah, and give up everything she'd ever lived for. Sara didn't think her grandmother would share her concern with a snake like this, but once again Southern manners got in the way of a strong comeback. “I won't take any more of your time."

"Oh. There was one more thing."

The words
one more thing
never mean anything good. Sara walked to the door before turning to listen. “Go ahead."

"When she called me yesterday, Maura mentioned you were still single. I was wondering if you had plans for tonight?"

She quelled the shudder at the thought. “Are you saying you'll lend me the money if I date you?"

Barlett actually laughed. “Oh, no. This loan idea wouldn't pass muster if you slept with the entire board.” He paused a beat, then winked. “I might be able to come up with a couple of hundred out of my pocket, though. I assume you can be convincing."

"You can stick those hundreds up your butt.” She turned and stomped out. Even southern manners have their limit.

Jack saw her as she left the bank. She'd held her tears back until she reached the main lobby but was boo-hooing pretty seriously by the time she reached her Miata.

"Through my magical powers I detect the meeting did not go well,” Jack offered.

"You're not being very funny."

"I don't get much practice in my home neighborhood."

Despite herself, Sara lips turned up. “When you talk about Hell, you make it sound like just another tough ‘hood."

"Live anywhere for a few thousand years and it starts to feel like home."

She shook her head. “Anyway, you were right. Nobody is going to lend us money. After he shot me down, the jerk had the nerve to ask me out on a date.” She couldn't bring herself to tell Jack what Barlett had insinuated.

"So you got your date. Great."

There were times when Jack drove her absolutely crazy. He could switch from an arrogant male to brow-beaten demon in less time than it took her to sneeze. “I'm involved with someone right now,” she reminded him. “Besides, the day someone like Barlett starts looking good is the day I decide I'm through with men forever."

"He insulted you. Did he find flaws in your business plan?” Jack's body relaxed but Sara wasn't fooled. His eyes showed a protective rage. With Jack, she wasn't sure looks couldn't kill.

She stepped into the car and motioned Jack to join her.

He bent over and picked something up.

"What did you find?"

Jack sat in the car beside her and held out his hand. A shiny penny rested on his palm.

"Hang onto it, it's the most we've gotten in what, ten banks we've visited."

"Twelve. You should have let me come in with you."

"That's the funny thing.” She shifted into gear and left the bank's parking lot. “Every single one of them asked about you. They wanted to know if you were legal. It's almost like someone is tipping them off."

Jack stared at the penny in his hand then squeezed his fist around it. A wave of heat radiated from him like a second sun shining, then vanished. When he opened his hand, the penny was gone, vaporized.

Initially, Jack had put their problems down to bad luck. Twelve bankers in a row all asking the same questions went beyond coincidence. Someone, or something, had decided to involve itself in Jack's stay in the human plane. The feel wasn't very angelic, yet demons favor direct action, at least against their fellow demons. If it was neither angel or demon, all that was left was human. Could some human have discovered who he was?

"I can get you the money,” he told her. Now that he'd had the chance to look into computers, he could easily divert a bank's funds into an account set up under Sara's name.

"I won't steal.” Sara was getting back her normal confidence and it showed in her voice.

"
You
won't have to."

"It wouldn't be right to start a business with stolen money."

He shrugged. “I could print some.” Manipulating appearance was second nature.

"That's dishonest too."

"We've got to do something. I can feel them closing in on us, squeezing us like I squeezed that penny."

Sara laughed. “Oh, Jack. You spent too long hanging around with other demons. Here on Earth, we have a saying. ‘Shit happens.’ It doesn't mean there's some vast conspiracy out to get us."

He considered that for all of a fraction of a second. “Ever since your apartment was ransacked, we've been plowing through a cloud. It isn't just the loan. Nothing has gone right."

"Hey, the sex has been good."

There was that. He was learning to gain more control over his emotions during sex. The reduction in tension helped Sara enjoy the physical side of their relationship and it had helped him even more. For the first time in eternity, he could relax, enjoy the sensation of a woman stretched around him without the fear that he might tear her to shreds in a moment of passion.

"I'm serious, Sara. We've got to do something."

She'd driven as they talked and now she pulled up in front of her apartment. For the first time in a week, they were here to stay rather than just spending a part of the day cleaning.

Jack reached out with tendrils of insight. For now, at least, there was nothing.

"All clear."

Sara let out a breath. “If they trash it again, I'm going to give up and move back in with my grandmother."

"You want to put her in danger?"

Sara shook her fist at him. “Hey, play fair."

"A demon, play fair?"

She shook her head but didn't argue with him. Even her innocence could only carry her so far.

The message light flashed on the answering machine as they entered Sara's apartment. Her finger shook slightly as she pressed the button to play it back.

"Maybe it's the banker telling us he's changed his mind,” Jack suggested.

"Just as long as it isn't Derrick."

"Sara? It's Lou Mertz. Call me.” Lou's disembodied voice rattled off a number.

Sara shrugged her shoulders. “Who the heck is Lou Mertz?"

"He's the man you talked to after we played that game at the bar,” Jack reminded her. Perfect memory was one of the many curses all demons possessed. They weren't allowed to forget anything, ever.

"Oh my gosh. I forgot all about that."

Sara picked up the phone and cradled it against her chest. “We really need the money but it would be too dangerous for you."

Jack frowned. “I can take care of myself."

"He was talking about big prize money. If we won, we could start our business without having to mess with the banks."

"So do it."

Her face crinkled into a frown. “We could take Katra with us. Getting away from Dallas for a couple of days would be good for her."

Jack nodded. “Absolutely."

"But you'd be on national television. Somebody would see what you are."

Jack gestured toward the new cowboy had he'd tossed into the corner of her living room. “I'd wear my hat and that loose-fitting jacket we bought. You and Katra could wear cowboy boots so we looked like Texans and so I wouldn't stand out as much. How much danger could there be?"

Sara nodded. “If you're willing to take the chance, so am I.” She dialed the number.

Ten minutes later, Sara's expression glowed. “Here you were just saying how rotten our luck has gotten. Well get ready. We're going to go up there and win enough money to finance our first hole."

"What happens if we don't win?"

"Then all we get is a free weekend in New York and a few thousand in cash. But we're going to win. Remember how hot we were two weeks ago."