The Devil's Due (23 page)

Damn it, damn it, damn it! When was I going to learn how to control my facial expressions? I began sliding my hand to the side, though I figured the chances of me getting to my Taser, arming it, pointing it, and shooting before someone stopped me were approximately zero.

I was right. Brian grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. He made it look like it was just a gesture of support, but I knew he’d read me as easily as Adam had. I glanced at Raphael, wondering if there was any chance I could convince him to take my side, but that was a stupid idea. Raphael would never agree to let Lugh take any “unnecessary” risks.

I jerked my hand from Brian’s and crossed my arms over my chest. “Fine!” I said, sounding sulky even to my own ears. “I’ll sit on my ass while you go out and play hero.” Adam gave me a knowing look, and I gritted my teeth. “Don’t look at me like that. I got the point. You’re going to lock me up.”

Beside me, I felt Brian start. There was a lot he didn’t know about the water under Adam’s and my bridge. I supposed I should fill him in on some of it someday. But not now.

Raphael rubbed his hands together. “So Adam is going to play policeman, Morgan’s going to twiddle her thumbs, and I presume Brian’s going to resume his usual daily activities. Do I have an assignment, or may I follow Brian’s lead?”

Instinct told me there was something off about Raphael’s voice, but I just didn’t have the energy to think about it right now. “I doubt you want to hear the instructions I have for you,” I muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. Raphael didn’t seem to find it as funny as the others did.

Our impromptu council meeting broke up after that. Brian had been a bit startled when he discovered Adam planned to lock me up, but instead of arguing for clemency, he offered to keep me company. I imagined it would have been fun, but I was way too surly to be in the mood for fun.

“You’ll keep her safe?” Brian inquired of Adam, which, naturally, pissed me off.

“I’ll keep my own damn self safe!”

Adam shook his head at Brian. “I can’t imagine how you could actually
want
to be in her presence.” Lucky for him he’d been smart enough to confiscate my Taser already.

I could have hoped that Brian would take offense that Adam was insulting me, but he just shrugged. “I can see behind the prickly exterior,” he said, then ignored Adam and fixed me with a pointed look. “Call me if there’s any news, or if there’s anything I can do to help.”

I agreed, and Brian, visibly reluctant, left.

The room Adam locked me in was right next door to the Dreaded Black Room. The door was closed when Adam led me by, and I wondered if Dominic was in there. I was too pissed off that Adam saw through me so well to ask, however. And so by lunchtime, on a day when my instincts screamed at me to act, to fight, to move, I found myself a prisoner in a comfortable little guest room with convenient iron grillwork covering the windows. Yup, another peachy day in the life of Morgan Kingsley, exorcist.

The first thing I saw when the door opened was Dominic’s back, because his hands were full and he was using his butt to hold the door. When he turned toward me and let the door go, his head was bowed, and I thought at first he was keeping an eye on the bowl of soup that rested on the tray he carried. But then he turned to put the tray on a desk, and a beam of light illuminated the side of his face.

I gasped when I saw his ostentatiously black eye. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he let out a sigh as he turned to face me. He crossed his arms over his chest, and his body language screamed that he wanted to be left alone. I doubt he was surprised I ignored it.

“How’d you get the shiner?” I asked, though I knew from his discomfort who must have given it to him.

He grimaced. “Adam. And no, he didn’t do it on purpose, so quit looking at me like I’m some battered woman.”

I tried to picture Adam hauling back and punching Dominic, and I just couldn’t do it. I realized with a little start that despite Adam’s aggressive and overbearing personality, I’d never once seen him and Dominic fight. Oh, they grumbled at each other occasionally, but even then it was with such affection it was obvious they didn’t mean it. And it wasn’t because Dominic was a doormat, either. He stood up to Adam in situations that would have had me running for the hills.

Come to think of it—and this was a really scary thought—theirs was probably the healthiest romantic relationship I’d ever seen.

Dominic’s shoulders were tight with tension, and his jaw worked like he was grinding his teeth. Everything about him screamed defensiveness, and I realized he was braced for an argument. I let go of my own tension and flashed him a rueful smile.

“Relax, Dom. I believe you.” He blinked in surprise, but with my stomach reminding me once again that I was hungry and that there was food nearby, I decided questioning Dominic could wait, so I took a seat at the desk and dug into the bowl of soup. I let out a moan of sensual pleasure when I tasted it. I’d never been a huge fan of minestrone, but I now saw the error of my ways.

Dominic got that pleased look he always gets when someone compliments his cooking, then took a seat on the recliner and waited in silence for me to finish eating. It didn’t take long.

“Would it be terribly uncouth of me to lick the bowl?” I asked, wanting to see his smile. I got my wish.

“You don’t need to go to such drastic measures. Seconds are available.”

I patted my full tummy. “I’d love to spend the rest of the afternoon stuffing my face, but I’ve got to watch my girlish figure.” That won me another smile.

Dominic reached for the tray, but though I’d have liked to let him leave on a high note, I just didn’t have it in me.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened between you and Adam?” I prodded.

The smile faded and his shoulders drooped. If I read the look on his face correctly, he was seriously contemplating leaving without answering me. I’m not sure I would have blamed him if he did, but he’s not as likely as I am to run from conflict. He set the tray back down and returned to the recliner.

“He told me everything,” Dominic said. “About Saul, and about what he does at The Seven Deadlies.”

I winced. There was such a thing as too much honesty. I wished Adam had kept the last part to himself, at least until we’d gotten Saul another host—however we were going to manage that.

“Did you decide anything?” I asked, then practically held my breath as I awaited the answer.

He nodded. “A number of things, actually.” He started counting off on his fingers. “One, that Adam’s a prick.”

I couldn’t help a snort of laughter. I would have felt bad about that if the corner of Dom’s mouth hadn’t twitched upward ever so slightly.

“Two, that he’s an
insecure
prick. And three, that I’m a mean little bastard for not immediately reassuring him that I don’t want to host Saul again.”

For reasons I didn’t want to examine, I rose from my chair and gave Dominic a quick, awkward hug. “I’ll agree with your assessment of Adam, but if you’re a mean little bastard, then I’m Miss Sunshine-and-Roses.”

He laughed and visibly relaxed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. But I really was pretty mean to Adam earlier. I wish he’d had enough faith in me to tell me about The Seven Deadlies from the start, but I understand why he didn’t.”

“And have you told him yet that you’re not going to take Saul back?”

He shook his head. “I was too busy brooding, and now he’s gone off to talk to a hostile demon who inhabits a superhost who may have abilities of which we are not aware. I feel like shit.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I said, and I meant it. It was hard to imagine Adam getting into any kind of trouble he couldn’t handle. Perhaps I was overestimating him, but his combination of competence and confidence made him seem almost invulnerable to me.

“Do you have any idea where he’s gone?”

I shook my head. “No. Why?”

Dom’s lips pressed together in a tight line, his eyes narrowed in pain. “Because I’m worried about him. I hurt him, and I’m worried he’ll be distracted by it, get himself in trouble …”

I thought I understood what Dominic was trying to say, even though he didn’t come right out and say it. “You want me to go look for him?”

His brilliant smile lit up his face. “Would you? He’s turned his phone off, and I don’t know how to reach him. I want to make sure he knows I’m staying before he faces Tommy.”

I almost took him up on it without thinking, but every once in a while I surprise myself by considering the consequences of my actions. “You know he’s going to be pissed at you for letting me go.”

Dom’s smile turned into a grin. “Do you think I’m afraid of him? It won’t be the first time I’ve pissed him off, and it won’t be the last, either.” He sobered and looked at me gravely. “Sometimes he has trouble understanding that people have a right to decide things for themselves, even if he doesn’t like their decisions.”

I had a feeling he was talking about more than my own situation. Had Adam tried to bully Dom into not taking Saul back? That would explain why Dom hadn’t rushed in to reassure him.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll go see if I can find Adam and make sure his head is in the game where it belongs. But first you have to tell me about the black eye.” I believed him when he said Adam didn’t do it on purpose, but considering they’d obviously argued, I felt like I
had
to know the circumstances before I could get near Adam without killing him. “Were you fighting?”

Dom stared at his hands in apparent fascination. “We were play-fighting, though we both should have known better. You don’t do any kind of BDSM play when you’re angry. At least, you
shouldn’t
.” I must have looked horrified, because he hastened to reassure me. “We weren’t throwing punches or anything, just wrestling. Of course, I don’t stand a chance of winning a wrestling match with a demon, so usually I don’t try very hard. But I was angry, so I fought harder than usual, and I managed to break his grip.” A wry smile twisted his lip. “I was as surprised as he was, so I lost my balance. You’ve seen the bed next door.”

Yes, I had. It was a massive king-sized black iron bed that looked heavy enough to fall through the floor.

“I ran into it face-first. Adam managed to catch me or it probably would have been much worse.”

If it were anyone else, I might have thought this story equivalent to the “I bumped into a door” story that’s the staple of battered women everywhere. But I believed Dominic, and that meant I could go off in pursuit of Adam without wanting to kill him.

I don’t know what was to stop Adam from dragging me right back to my civilized little prison cell the moment I found him, but I’d worry about that later. I smiled at Dom to let him know I bought his story.

“Do you happen to know where Adam stashed my Taser when he confiscated it?”

“No, but I’m sure we can find it.”

Picking up the tray, he led me out of my cell.

I can’t tell you how relieved I was to get out of that house, though I felt a little like I’d escaped under false pretenses. I’d promised Dominic I’d look for Adam, but I had no real hope of success. Philly is a big city, and I had no idea where he’d gone. Naturally, I tried stopping by Tommy’s place, but no one, not even his slimy roommate, seemed to be home. I then tried Adam’s office number, even though I doubted he’d officially gone back to work on his “sick day.” I was right.

Other than The Seven Deadlies, I didn’t know where else Tommy was likely to hang out. It was now three o’clock in the afternoon, and the club wouldn’t open until nine. I tried Adam’s cell phone on the off chance he’d turned it back on since the last time Dom had called, but no dice. I even tried calling Claudia, but she was in a meeting—not with Adam, because I asked—and couldn’t be disturbed. I declined to leave a message. I’m sure the kidnappers had commanded her to go about her day as if nothing were wrong, but I hoped the fact that she was in a meeting meant the children were okay.

It was almost five when I admitted defeat. Until The Seven Deadlies opened, I had no clue where to find Adam. I called Dom to let him know I was going back to my apartment, and he confirmed that Adam still hadn’t returned any of his calls. The worry in Dom’s voice was contagious, but neither one of us could come up with any brilliant ideas. I gave Dom strict orders to call me if he heard from Adam, then headed home.

My day was not improved when I found a reporter for the
Philadelphia Inquirer
camped out in the lobby of my building. Not the same reporter who’d been calling me on the phone, but I recognized her as press—perhaps because of the whiff of brimstone that clung to her—as soon as she sprang up out of her chair and strode toward me.

If I ran for the elevator, would I be able to get in and get the door closed before she caught me? With my luck, that would be a big no. So instead I turned to glower at her, arms akimbo, body language screaming “get the fuck away from me.”

She couldn’t possibly have missed the message, but I suppose reporters were used to ignoring hostility, since she came right up to me anyway and stuck out her hand.

“You must be Morgan Kingsley,” she said with a polished smile. “I’m Barbara—”

My smile was so polished the edges could cut through diamond. “I don’t care who you are. I have no comment, and I want you to stay out of my hair.”

Her shapely eyebrows rose. She held out a press badge for me to examine. I ignored it and turned toward the elevators. Barbara What’s-Her-Name followed, her businesslike black pumps making clicking noises as she tried to catch up. Naturally, both elevators were near the top of the building. I hit the Up button with more force than necessary.

“You know,” Barbara said as she settled in to wait beside me, “I’m from the
Philadelphia Inquirer,
not the
National Enquirer
. There’s no reason to be so skittish.”

I tried to pretend she wasn’t there. With all the crap I was going through in my life, you’d think the universe would give me a break once in a while! But no, why would anyone think that?

“So you have no comment about the death of Jordan Maguire Jr.?”

I stared at the blinking lights above the elevators, wishing the damn things weren’t about a hundred years old and slow as tortoises.

Reporter Barbie was undaunted. “What about Jordan Maguire Sr.’s threats to file suit?”

I blinked. This was the first I’d heard of it, and I groaned internally. Just what I needed—more trouble. One of the elevators was still at floor twenty, but the other one was making its way down steadily. Fifteen, fourteen, twelve—because this was an old building and had no thirteenth floor—eleven, ten … And then the damned thing stopped, and I almost howled in frustration.

“Is there anything you’d do differently if you had a chance to do it all over again?” Barbie continued, as if I’d been answering her questions all along.

The elevator stayed on floor ten, and I decided enough was enough. I walked back into the lobby and caught the doorman’s attention. He was a big black guy built like a linebacker, but he was one of those gentle giants who wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’d talked to him just enough to know he was a starving artist who worked the door to keep food on the table while he pursued a career as a painter. Still, Barbie didn’t know any of that.

“Hey, Mike,” I said with a big smile, “is there any chance you can help me get rid of an unwanted visitor?” I jerked my thumb at Barbie.

He returned my smile. “Sure thing,” he said, then looked at Barbie. The smile gave way to a politely blank expression. “Ma’am, this is a private building. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”