I was just finishing my second beer when someone leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Want to do something insane?”
As pickup lines went, it wasn’t half bad.
I set my glass on the bar and looked up. He was dark-haired, gorgeous, and tall, dwarfing me by almost a foot—and at five-six plus heels, I wasn’t exactly short. I took a moment to savor the close-up view of his impressively muscled chest and let my appreciation show in my voice when I answered, “Absolutely.”
He drained the last of his bourbon and tossed a crisp hundred on the bar next to our empty glasses. “Then let’s get out of here.”
I let him help me slide down off my barstool. His eyes moved approvingly from my tall boots to my thighs and over my short dress to my cleavage, where they paused for a moment before meeting my gaze. “Scott,” he said and held my jacket while I put it on.
I smiled up at him. “Alice.”
“Nice to meet you, Alice.” He offered his hand, and I took it. We plowed through the crowded bar toward the front door.
When we finally emerged on the sidewalk, I tucked my arm through Scott’s and fell in step beside him. Despite the cold, he didn’t need a coat; I felt his warmth even through my leather jacket. He smelled smoky and woodsy, like a forest fire.
“What’s on the agenda?” I asked as we strolled along Ninth Street, past a dozen bars and late-night cafés.
“Have you ever flown the 101?”
I laughed. “I’ve driven the Pacific Coast Highway. I didn’t know you could fly it.”
He grinned at me. “In my car, we can.”
“Let’s do it.” I squeezed his arm. “Where are you parked?”
“Up ahead a couple of blocks.”
The March wind was bitterly cold on my bare legs. Though we walked quickly, within minutes, I was shivering.
“Come on—we’re almost there.” Scott squeezed me against his side with an enormous arm.
“How did you manage to get parking down here on a Saturday, anyway?” I asked, pouting a bit. “I’m all the way over on Fulton, in a pay lot.”
“I know the guy who owns McGovern’s Steakhouse,” Scott replied. “He lets me park in his alley whenever I’m here.”
“Well, that sure is convenient.”
Scott flashed me a smile. We were in front of McGovern’s, which was already closed for the night. At one a.m., there weren’t many pedestrians around. It was cold enough that anyone who was out was in a hurry to get where they were going, and the most popular bars were back in the direction we’d come from. Where Scott was parked, there was nothing but long-closed restaurants and shops. I saw one other couple about a block behind us, wrapped in long coats, their heads down as they talked quietly, but no one else was in sight. The sharp staccato sound of my boot heels echoed as we walked.
Finally, we rounded the corner and started into the alley behind the steakhouse. It was a relief to be out of the wind. Ahead, by the light of a single streetlight, I saw a black Porsche 911 Turbo parked in front of a large sign that read Authorized Vehicles Only.
“Nice car,” I remarked as we approached it.
“Thanks,” he said, and punched me.
I felt him tense up and managed to turn a fraction of a second before he swung, so his massive fist connected with my side instead of my stomach.
Pain exploded in my ribs. I gasped and hit Scott’s chest with both hands. Magic flared, and he flew backward into the side of the restaurant, leaving a man-sized crater in the brick wall. He landed in a crouch with a snarl, his eyes blazing bright red.
My left side hurt so badly it was hard to think for a moment, and I wondered if he’d broken any ribs. I held my side and spooled my earth magic. Green flames sparked on my skin as a five-foot-long whip-like stream of cold fire emerged from my right hand. I lashed the Porsche’s front tire, and it split with a loud bang and the hiss of air escaping. I smiled grimly. No quick getaways for him.
“Bitch,” Scott growled. His voice was deeper and more gravelly now that he was no longer pretending to be human. “My car!”
“I guess you won’t be flying the 101 anytime soon,” I said. “And by the way, that’s a terrible line.”
The half demon glowered at me. Above us, the streetlight buzzed and flickered. “What do you want?” he demanded.
“You’re coming with me. I’ve got a Court summons with your name on it.”
His eyes glowed brighter with anger. “I don’t answer to the humans,” he snarled.
The corner of my mouth turned up. “No, the other Court.”
Scott hissed. I tensed and shifted my weight, ready for him to attack.
Instead, the bastard ran.
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