flipped on the light switch. Soft white light illuminated the downstairs. When he reached the bottom step he heard singing.
“I don’t think demons sing,” Keira whispered.
He lowered the gun, relief making his knees weak. “That’s no demon, but an imp from hell. What his mother calls him, anyway.”
Dale rounded the corner to the section he’d built as quarters to house his men when the Phoenix Force needed to discuss ops in private. He flipped the safety on his weapon and shoved it into the waistband of his shorts.
Grant “Sully” Sullivan lay on the carpet, singing a bawdy song. Dale inhaled and recoiled.
“Jesus, Sully, what the hell?”
The ensign struggled to sit up, and fell back, the odor of whiskey clinging to him like cheap perfume. “Sorry, Curt. I’m a little...little drunk.”
“And you came here to sleep it off? Or escape from a lover?” Dale squatted down beside the young SEAL.
Keira entered the room and looked at Sully. Dale sighed. “Keira, meet Ensign Sullivan, one of my men. Sully, this is Keira, my new housekeeper.”
Sully opened one eye and held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
Her mouth quirked. “It’s a pleasure since you’re not a demon.” Her gaze whipped to Dale. “Although I’ve heard you’re an imp.”
“That’s what Mom says. Of all her eight kids, I was the worse. Worst.”
Dale wiped his clammy palms on his shorts to hide them from Sully. Even drunk, the man was sharp. Of course. He’d trained the SEAL himself. “Why did you teleport here?”
“My sis. Cassandra’s worried about you. Made me promise to warn you in person, Curt.”
“Who’s Curt?” Keira asked.
“It’s my team nickname.” Dale glanced at the kitchen. “Could you get him a glass of water?”
As Keira headed for the sink, Dale sat beside Sully and lowered his voice. “I told you, I’m fine.”
The last thing he needed was Sully’s well-meaning but nosy older sister fretting about him. Did the whole world have to fuss over him?
“Cassandra saw a vision in her crystal ball.”
Keira handed the glass to Sully, who gulped down the water. “Your sister has a crystal ball?”
“Just for fun. Doesn’t need it.” Sully set the glass down and looked slightly more alert. “She sees her visions in her mind. She came to my place and yelled at me for drinking too much. Jeez, I hate when she yells at me. Like I’m eight again and she’s my bossy older sister nagging me. Well, I was a mess, but damn, I didn’t expect company, sorry for swearing, ma’am....”
Trying to follow a line of conversation with Sully when he was soused was like trying to read Latin backward. Dale pointed two fingers at his eyes. “Focus, Sully. Why was your sister at your apartment?”
“Cassandra was worried about you. Came to tell me. Saw a vision in her crystal ball of you dancing with a demon. Not your ex-wife, either.”
Dale’s mouth quirked. He glanced at Keira to see if she absorbed the joke, and saw blood drain from her face.
He wondered what it meant. Then she smiled, but it seemed strained.
“What kind of demon?”
Sully frowned. “She started bitching... Sorry, ma’am, I mean, complaining, about how messy my place was and how I drank all the whiskey.”
“The demon?” Dale asked.
“My sis.”
“Why did you drink so much?” he asked gently, already knowing the reason.
“Ever since Miranda broke up with me, my life’s been a wreck. I loved her and no one will ever be as sweet.” He sighed. “’Cept maybe Paulina. She was amazing....”
Keira gave him a questioning look. “How did you break in?”
“Teleported. Never break in.”
She gave Dale a questioning look. “He teleported over. Sully’s a Light Mystic.”
“Which is Curt’s polite way of saying I’m the bastard son of a Mystic Witch and a psychic human. Unlike Cassandra, who’s a pure-blood Mystic.” Sully rubbed at his face.
She tensed visibly. “Mystic Witches have visions of the future.”
“Cassandra’s are usually spot-on, which is why I need to know more about this one.” Dale turned back to Sully. “What did your sister see?”
“Oh, Dale, let the poor man sober up. He looks hungry.” She smiled at Sully. “Have you eaten?”
Sully ran a hand through his thick hair. “No, ma’am. Was gonna grab leftovers or something out of a can.”
“I made stew. There’s plenty. Would you like dinner?”
Dale shot her an incredulous look, but she ignored him and focused on Sully, who brightened, his boyish face lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Gee, thanks. I love real home cooking.”
He didn’t like the idea of Sully dining with them. Dale ruminated over this. It wasn’t the thought of Sully treating him with kid gloves or asking him again and again how he was healing.
Dale disliked the idea of sharing Keira’s company with another man.
Interesting. He rubbed a spot on his chest, his scars itching suddenly. Or was the itch much deeper, the burning wish to enjoy a quiet conversation with a woman who didn’t look at him with either fear or desire in her eyes?
Sully scrambled to his feet, swayed a moment and then caught himself. Dale stood as well, wondering about Cassandra Sullivan’s cryptic message. Her visions in the past had proved correct. But no way in hell would he ever dance with demons.
Dale headed for his study and locked his weapon in the safe. When he returned to the dining room and retook his seat, Keira had set a bowl of stew on the table before Sully.
The SEAL began to eat. “Wow, this is terrific,” he said around a mouthful of stew. “Maybe if Curt fires you, you can cook for me.”
She sat, looking amused at Dale’s scowl. “I just got hired. Why would he fire me?”
“You’re not his type. Too nice.” Sully waved his spoon. “He likes tall, model types with sharp tongues.”
“Ensign,” Dale warned. “Tell me about your sister’s vision. What did this demon look like?”
Keira choked on her wine. Dale glanced at her. “You okay?”
“Fine.” She coughed. “Drank too fast.”
