entity—from when we last met. And he’d been asleep. There was no way he could know who I really was.
A hand on my shoulder stopped me. Nibbling my lip, I darted a glance at him.
“I know you don’t know me,” Paul said, his voice soft as a summer wind. “And I know you’re running away from something, or someone. But you don’t have to run from me.”
“I never said I was running away.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over you.” His eyes locked on mine. “You in trouble with the law?”
That startled me so much that I let out a full belly laugh, ending with me clutching my stomach and doubling over to try to muffle the sound. Finally I managed to say, “I haven’t done anything illegal.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
Something in his voice froze the last drops of laughter in my throat. “No, I’m not in trouble with the law.” Trouble didn’t begin to describe what I was in. Deep shit came to mind. And mortal law was the least of my worries.
His gaze softened, and he reached over to brush away stray locks of hair that dangled in front of my eyes. “Can I help you?”
I wanted to say, Yes. Wrap me in your arms and keep me warm and tell me everything’s going to be okay. Kiss away my fears and teach me how to live. Hold my hand as I experience everything for the first time and fill my heart with the sound of your laughter.
Barring that, an orgasm would be nice.
I said none of those things. Instead I smiled, perhaps a bit wanly, and said, “Walk me to the hotel you mentioned.”
He did. And in the lobby, he presented me with my suitcase and squeezed my shoulder once. He took a piece of the hotel’s stationery and wrote his name and phone number on it. Folding it in my hand, he said, “Call me. Whenever you want.”
“You always give your number to strangers?” I asked, trying to be coy.
“The question is, do the strangers call me back?”
“Do they?”
“In your case?” He winked at me. “I hope so.”
I watched Paul walk out of the hotel lobby, enjoying the way his legs moved, how relaxed he seemed with his jacket slung over one shoulder. Maybe he sensed my gaze on his back (and lower down), because he looked back at me and lifted his hand in a wave. I did the same, and as he walked out of my line of sight my fingers curled into a loose fist that I placed against my heart. Beneath it, the peridot charm was cool, indifferent.
The only thing evil about Paul was the way he made me feel. Ooh, the things I wanted to do to him, to show him…
…the things I’d already done to him…
Blowing out a frustrated sigh, I let that thought go. He’d freaked me out when he said he’d seen me before. I hadn’t counted on my very last client to show up in my new life.
Of course, I hadn’t counted on taking a place on the Underworld’s Most Wanted list. It wasn’t like I had done anything wrong. (Well, other than going AWOL.) I didn’t know anything that other demons didn’t know.
Except their loyalty was unquestioned. They were still creatures of the Pit. Because I ran, I was a wild card. And the King of Hell didn’t tolerate gambling.
A sharp pain in my hand pulled me out of my dark thoughts, and I realized I’d squeezed my fist so hard that my nails had pierced my flesh. Fascinated, I watched blood seep into the half-moon marks on my palm, transforming them into ruby crescents.
Enough moping, I told myself. Time to take control of your life.
I walked over to the front desk, where a dashing man stood behind the counter, typing on his computer. Glancing at me, he put on a perfunctory smile and said, “May I help you?”
Pouring on the charm, I said, “Yes, thanks. I’d like to check in, please.”
His smile warmed, obviously pleased that I wanted to spend money in his establishment. “Do you have a reservation?”
“No,” I said, standing on tiptoe to lean close to him over the counter. “But maybe you could scare something up for me?”
He began to type on the keyboard. “I’m sure I can find something. Single occupancy?”
“For now,” I said, a note of wistfulness in my voice.
With a chuckle, he said, “Okay, single. How long will you be staying?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s start with two nights and take it from there.”
Clackety clack clack. His fingers moved so quickly, so dexterously. I wondered what else he could do that skillfully with his fingers. Then I wondered if human females were always in heat, or if that was just me being…well, me.
“I can give you a standard room for tonight and tomorrow night, at two-fifty-nine a night, for a total of six-oh-five forty-six.”
It took me a moment to realize he was talking about price. Pulling out Caitlin’s wallet, I flipped it open and popped out a credit card. “Here you go.”
“I just need some ID, please.”
Offering Caitlin’s Massachusetts State ID, I smiled brightly.
He glanced at it, then at me. My smile broadened as he took the Visa card. The transaction went through, and in a moment he told me I’d been put in room 217. I’d half-expected to get something cheesy like room 666.
“I can’t give you the key card yet,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Check-in’s not until three. But if you want, you can leave your suitcase here until three o’clock.”
“That’s great,” I said, wheeling the trunk over to him behind the counter. “I have some shopping to do anyway.”
Chapter 5
Belles/Hotel New York
Whistling the “I Love New York” theme, I ambled past the club, three overly stuffed shopping bags in tow, before I did a double take, my sex radar blipping. The name was stenciled in silver on the frosted window, as well as on the black awning: Belles. Next to the name was the distinctive hourglass silhouette of a female begging to be on the cover of a bodice ripper.
Bubbling with curiosity, I opened the door and walked inside. The entrance was dimly lit, making me blink after basking in the afternoon brightness. Up ahead came the distinctive sounds of honky-tonk music. Humming along with the song as I wandered down the hallway, I placed it as a Shania Twain hit. Like most nefarious creatures, I knew who many recording artists were; it was amazing how many young hopefuls were desperate enough to turn to Hell for an edge in getting a foot in the door and launching a career. Unlike many of my former brethren, I knew the names simply because I loved the music. Passion turned to melody, emotion given life in song…ah, ecstasy! Just thinking about it made my G-spot tingle.
With
