Catching Hell

by D. B. Sieders

  And so was he. I was the luckiest demon-possessed girl in the earth realm.

  “Good.” He blew gently on my ear, sending delicious shivers down my neck. “Can we get your two other questions out of the way? I can’t wait to touch, tease, and taste every inch of you.”

  Tempting. He was tempting beyond belief. The only thing that saved me from giving in was the knock that sounded at my door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Jane, are you home?”

  My sister’s dulcet tones could wake the dead, something that normally grated on my last nerve, but for once I was grateful.

  “Coming,” I yelled. “Give me a sec.”

  I felt D’s smile against my skin as he spoke. “Sadly, you aren’t coming. Do you want me to go?”

  I didn’t, and why should he? I was a grown-ass woman in my own grown-ass woman’s apartment with a grown-ass man doing what consenting adults did. Besides, scandalizing my big sister was my third favorite thing to do.

  I pulled away from D with great reluctance. “No. Stay. But put a shirt on. Otherwise poor Megan might never be able to look at another man again.”

  He grinned. “Be nice to her. I’ll be right back.”

  “You clearly don’t remember what a pain in the ass she is.” Speaking of asses, I admired the shape of his as he walked away. I really needed to get a view of his bare derrière during our next Q and A session.

  I smoothed down my hair as best I could before walking to the door so I could harass my favorite sister. “What’s the password?”

  “Really? We’re going to do this again?” Oh, goody. She was already exasperated, and I hadn’t even brought out my best material. Messing with Megan was so much fun.

  Waiting a beat, I pulled out my stern, drill sergeant voice. “You’re not even close. Password or no entry.”

  I leaned my back against the door and waited. After about ten seconds and a very loud sigh, she uttered the magic words. “Jinx, Jinx, the nimble minx, she’ll kick your ass before you blink.”

  I collapsed in a fit of giggles. That never, ever got old.

  “Can I come in now?”

  I opened the door and marveled at the sight of my sister. How did anyone look that put together in the morning? Oh, right, it was well past noon. She probably thought I’d been on a bender, which, oddly enough, I had been. We had the same dark hair and round face, but she was pale, especially next to me. I had what appeared to be a natural permanent tan. It was a source of endless jealousy, made worse since I worked nights and didn’t have to work for it.

  Then again, she stood a good eight inches taller than me. That made us even in the jealousy department. Oh, and she had gorgeous blue eyes, a winning personality—if a bit on the sanctimonious side—and a blessedly ordinary life. She had the perfect husband by society’s standards, a chance for children, and she looked like a runway model. She had all the things I couldn’t thanks to my demon. Guess we weren’t so even after all.

  “You look terrible.” She walked in like she owned the place, though she’d only been to my apartment a half-dozen times. I didn’t entertain family members or nondemon friends all that often.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Coffee?”

  “Sure.” She set her bag down on my counter and eyed the two plates filled with breakfast treats with undisguised curiosity. Let her be curious. I’d just had a mind-blowing orgasm delivered with a side of breakfast. She’d meet D soon enough.

  Crap, I hope she didn’t recognize him.

  Surely not. She’d only caught a few glimpses of him when we were kids. Once D got better at hiding, there had been no need to worry as much. Sure, he spent nights in my closet, but he’d soon started roaming during the day and some nights, too, once he got comfortable. He was such an explorer.

  He’d only ever scared me once when he came back bloodied and bruised from a run-in with someone bad. I’d treated his wounds, but he wouldn’t tell me who or what he’d fought. Only that he’d won. I’d faked being sick and convinced my mom I’d be okay staying home from school on my own.

  Aside from D’s injuries, it had been one of the best days of my life.

  We’d had full run of the house, and I’d been able to sit with him on the couch and watch the big TV. I’d even made him the most ginormous roast beef sandwich in the history of the earth realm—seven layers of bread, cheese, and tender, juicy deli roast beef. And though I’m sure it had given him horrible indigestion later, he’d eaten every bite. After that, I’d cradled his head in my lap and stroked his hair until he fell asleep.

  “I need to talk to you about something.” Megan’s tone dragged me out of my reverie.

  That didn’t sound good. I handed her a cup of joe and braced for whatever lecture or judgment was to come.

  “Sure, what’s up?” My voice was too chipper, but she’d set me on edge.

  “Are you alone?” Her gaze surreptitiously roamed over the expanse of my huge combination kitchen, conference room, and living area.

  I leaned against the counter and sipped my own cup of joe, savoring the flavor and rush of caffeine before answering. “My roommates are robbing banks right now, possibly planning a cyberattack on the entire U.S. banking system, so they’re out. I think I have the rest of my demons safely tucked away.”

  Megan rolled her eyes and walked away, plopping down in one of the chairs in the wide expanse of living area. These were the nicer chairs that I assumed Boice and Roice kept for show, or possibly as an attempt to contrast with my own eclectic and fabulous furnishings. I liked the way my brilliant patterns shone out of the dark corner into which they kept tucking my stuff. They were jealous. I could tell.

  After taking in the view for a moment, because having a penthouse came with perks, Megan turned to me, back straight and gaze narrowed, full of suspicion. “Jane, what exactly do you do for a living?”

  And…here we go again.

  I flopped down on the boring couch across from sister dearest and mock groaned. “We’ve been through this like a million times. I’m a consultant.”

  Megan arched a skeptical brow. “So you keep telling me, but what exactly do you consult on?”

  I balked. “I don’t know. No one knows. That’s the beauty of consulting. It’s a vague job that still sounds fancy and pays a crap ton of money. All the cool kids are consultants.”

  She shifted gears, moving to the after-school special, concerned big sister tactic. “Jinx, it’s okay if you don’t have a conventional job. As long as you’re making a living—legally—that’s all that matters. You are making legal money, right?”

  Oh, this was too much fun. “You got me.” I raised my arms in surrender. “I didn’t want to have to tell you, but I’m an international woman of mystery.”

  “Jane—”

  “No, it’s totally cool. I get to dress up, go to nice restaurants and hotels, and spy on the ambassadors from Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and a few of those other -stan countries. I’ve got at least two hot guys lined up in every city I work. Very James Bond, or would that be Jane Bond?”

  She shook her head and frowned, turning her gaze away from me. “Fine. Keep your secrets. It’s not my business anyway. I’m only your sister.”

  I hated it when she went for the jugular. She apparently thought I harbored some inferiority complex based on the fact that she’d attended a Southern Ivy League university while I’d attended community and online colleges—sporadically—earning an associate’s degree in criminal justice. Whatever. It had totally worked with my demon-hunting duties and schedule, and I also had street cred in the human world. Win-win.

  “Right, I should give all the sordid details of my employment to my sister, the kept woman who has one of those cushy rich people jobs.”

  Okay, maybe I did have a bit of a complex.

  I couldn’t help it. I was the bad sister. Not only that, I was also the bad little sister. I was duty bound to be a pain in the ass.

  Her husband, Brad, was some kind of hotshot inves
tment banker who could support Megan and at least ten other sister-wives if he’d been into that sort of thing. So instead of working for a paycheck, Megan devoted her time and energy to all sorts of charities. Still a Goody-Two-shoes. She probably ran a home for orphan kittens on the side.

  And she’d never even given me one.

  Megan sighed, failing to take the bait. “You’re right. I don’t have to work a nine-to-five. I know how fortunate I am, and I give back as much as I’m able,” she said, not giving me the satisfaction of a snarky comeback or starting a fight. “And speaking of giving back, I stopped by to return this.”

  She held out a slip of paper that looked suspiciously like a check. What the hell? I hadn’t loaned her money since high school. Wait, maybe I’d forgotten about one of the few times I’d spotted her for gas money. It would be just like her to remember and give back the money with interest.

  Or maybe she thought I was hard up.

  “Whoa.” I waved my hand and backed away from the check as if it were a small explosive device. “I was kidding about the spy thing. I’m a superhero.”

  “Really.” The corners of her mouth twitched as she fought to stay serious. Or maybe she was just covering her shock and awe at my revelation.

  “Oh, yeah. The yoga pants and sweater are part of the disguise for my alter ego. By day, I’m Jane McGee, ‘consultant,’” I said, making air quotes and winking. “By night, I’m Jinx the Jaunty Purveyor of Justice. Vigilante style, of course, because, really, is there any other kind?”

  “Jaunty Purveyor of Justice?”

  “Hey, Batman was already taken. I had to come up with an original superhero name.” I struggled to climb out of the thick plush cushions of the fancy sofa and moved over to my own sofa, my beauty, she who embraced my backside like my favorite pair of jeans. Much better than my roomies’ furniture, and not so close to Sis.

  Megan followed me to my dark, cozy corner of the room and sat primly on one of my mismatched chairs. I’d tacked several swatches to one of the armrests, torn between new neon tartan creations and glow-in-the-dark skulls.

  “Well, that certainly is…original.” I wasn’t sure if she was referring to my superhero name or the swatches, but I’d take it either way. Then she shook her head and leveled me with one of her determined looks.

  Uh-oh.

  She held up the check. “This isn’t charity for you. It’s what you donated to one of my charities last week, and it’s too much. I’m giving it back.”

  Damn, she really knew how to suck the wind right out of my sails. I almost sank back into my sofa, and I had to fight not to fidget with the nubs covering the well-worn fabric. No, I wouldn’t let her get to me. I wasn’t little Janie anymore. I was a seasoned warrior, a professional. No way would I let Megan get the upper hand.

  I gave a dismissive wave and snorted. “What? Me give to charity? No way. I’m the bad sister, remember?”

  How had she found out? I’d asked Boice to make an anonymous donation to Megan’s local cancer patient advocacy chapter, emphasis on anonymous. I’d have to have words with the little snitch later.

  “You aren’t bad.” Megan’s voice was gentle, soothing, but I was immune to emotional sneak attacks. Megan, however, was a worthy opponent, remaining firm and unconvinced by my command performance, damn it.

  “And it’s not that I don’t appreciate this, but you should be spending your money on you.”

  “I do.” I gestured to the splendor around us, from tricked-out kitchen to our high-end electronics and amazing panoramic view. “Just look at this superswanky apartment.”

  “I thought you said the boss of your consulting firm paid for this as a home office.” The way she said the word “consultant” was laced with more than a little skepticism. Why did no one take me seriously? No matter. I knew how to throw her off.

  “Yeah, but I paid for all the décor.” I patted my faded sofa. “This is vintage, a rare find. Can’t get this kind of quality just anywhere, you know. Not to mention this awesome upholstery.”

  I then placed my bare feet on the coffee table, kicking away some old Chinese takeout boxes to make room. “And I’ll also have you know this table is made of very special wood from a rare species of baobab tree. They only grow in Madagascar. Cost me a fortune on the black market.”

  “Jane, I’m serious,” Megan said, and she was. She really was worried about me. No idea why. I was living the dream.

  “So am I,” I said, pointing to the check. “I’m not admitting to anything, mind you, but if I allegedly made a substantial donation to an organization that may or may not be championed by my sister, I would not have cut into my savings or my takeout budget.”

  “Fine.” She sighed, stuffing the check into her pocket. “There is something else I wanted to ask you about.”

  I sat up ramrod straight and bowed my head in faux contrition. “Yes, I stole your Malibu Barbie and buried her in the backyard. Whew.” I threw my head back and spread my arms over the sofa’s expanse. “Glad I got that off my chest.”

  “Why is a large blond man who looks like the Terminator following me and Mom?”

  Double damn it. I’d told Alexi to be sly, but the poor guy just stood out in a crowd. A big, blond god of a man, good-looking, and with that accent? Yeah. Still, I thought it would take a little longer for Megan and Mom to catch on.

  I crossed my eyes and shook my head at her. It was my flabbergasted I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about look. Or maybe it was my crazy look. Whatever worked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and frankly I’m surprised. It’s not like you to be paranoid.”

  She furrowed her brows. Oh, yeah, I sowed seeds of doubt like a pro, throwing her off my scent. It was for her own good. No need to worry her or Mom. Yet.

  Still, I’d have to text Alexi and encourage him to be more discreet, and I’d have to do it in a way that wouldn’t hurt his feelings. He was a giant marshmallow on the inside.

  Megan was about to open her mouth again when a vision emerged from my room. A vision wearing tight jeans, a tighter T-shirt, and with a freshly shaved jaw that would have made him appear clean-cut were it not for the damp locks that framed his impossibly handsome face and brushed his shoulders. I let Megan ogle him for a bit, mostly because I wanted to ogle him, too. He was just too delicious.

  “Good morning,” he said with a wink, walking over and planting a soft kiss on my lips. He surprised me by turning and extending a hand to my sister. “You must be Megan.”

  My awestruck sister accepted his hand and shook it, clearly on autopilot. After shaking her head, she said, “Pleased to meet you, Mr.…”

  “Bellatore,” he said. “Dominic Bellatore.”

  He walked back to the kitchen and began cleaning up after breakfast. Holy guacamole. He was cleaning? That settled it. I was keeping him. And Bellatore? That wasn’t his real name any more than Dominic was, but it had that sexy Italian ring to it. Dominic the Warrior. The tall, dark Italian Warrior. It fit him like the jeans that molded to the enticing contours of his ass.

  I beamed at Megan, who eyed me with a mixture of awe, confusion, and more than a little envy. The last part faded fast. She and Brad were soul mates, and she loved him more than life itself. The awe and confusion stuck around.

  I let her stare for a minute before taking pity on her. “He’s a colleague and friend. We’re working on a consult together.” I glanced at the antique grandfather clock in my corner. “Speaking of, we need to get to work. Our deadline is in three days.”

  “Of course,” Megan said, slowly coming out of her stupor. “I won’t keep you. But you are coming over for Sunday dinner, right?”

  Oh dear. I’d forgotten about Sunday dinner. After much wrangling, I’d finally caved and accepted Mom’s summons for a family meal with just the four of us—Mom, me, Megan, and Brad. At least Mom and I had the swinging single gal part in common. Well, at least until now, assuming D was planning to stick around this time.

  Which gave m
e a fabulous idea.

  “Hey, D, want to come to a family dinner with me on Sunday?”

  He froze and turned around, nailing me with his startling green-eyed gaze. I could see the demon sparks swirling in his irises and wondered if I’d crossed a line. He was interested in the physical, and I suspected he might want to rekindle the emotional relationship, too, but meeting the family in the official capacity might be too much too soon. Or maybe he wasn’t keen on reliving his days as the hungry, frightened orphan demon who once shared our home. I was about to make another joke to diffuse the situation and hide the wave of disappointment and pain threatening to crash into me upon his rejection.

  Then he smiled. “Does this mean we’re dating?”

  I smiled back, my heart leaping with joy. “You’d have to take me on an actual date for that to be true.”

  He nodded. “As soon as we’re done consulting,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “I’ll take you wherever you’d like. I’ll even pay.”

  “Oh,” I said, giddy with anticipation. If I were a dog, my tail would be wagging at light speed. “I’d love to go to Tahiti.”

  I’d love to go anywhere with D, or nowhere at all. He’d shown me a glimpse of paradise right here in my apartment. I’d be perfectly happy for a repeat performance. Low-key was my middle name.

  Stifling a chuckle, his eyes twinkled with what I thought might be affection. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “So you’ll be my dinner date at the old family get-together?” I tried to sound casual and failed miserably. For some reason, I really wanted him to come with me. That was where I’d met him, after all. Where it had all started.

  Where we had started.

  And while he knew my family as well as I did—what with years of living with them in secret—they didn’t know him. It was a shame, really. He’d done a lot for us. If I was a walking disaster around anything electronic, D was a born mechanic. He’d fixed my mom’s car in secret on many a night when she’d been fretting over how to pay for the necessary repairs. He’d done the same with our furnace the following winter, and he’d somehow managed to make our food stores last longer than usual. Megan used to joke that we had a friendly elf who made certain we never ran out of her favorite sugary marshmallow cereal, or bread, or peanut butter, or anything else we needed until Mom’s paycheck cleared.