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Authors: Susan Fanetti
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truly not going to happen.
He knew he should be grateful, and he actually was. Sid had helped him get this guy to take his case, and he was getting a famously successful lawyer to fight for him and his boy. That was good. That was lucky, and Demon normally had the world’s shittiest luck. But he could see the distrust and contempt when the guy talked to him, and he hated it.
It was worth it. Getting Tucker would be worth just about anything, but he hated it nevertheless.
That wasn’t what had his attention wandering today, though. Today, all he could think about was Faith.
He’d been walking around like the undead all morning, and not just because he’d been up at first light and out of the house before anyone else was moving, hours earlier than he’d needed to be at the shop.
If he hadn’t left first thing, he would probably have ended up in the room Faith had taken. And he had to get his head straight before he did anything that had to do with her. He didn’t trust himself. Last night, he’d been hit by an old wave of want and need that had been overpowering long ago and had spent ten years only getting stronger, without him even realizing it. If he lost control of himself, he could hurt her. Even if she felt like he did, even if she wanted, too, he could still hurt her.
Besides, did it even matter what they wanted? He’d been no good then, and the past ten years hadn’t made him better. He had seen things, done things that should never touch her. The darkness in him was darker, the wrongness more wrong.
He needed to stay away. Far away. And he needed to stop thinking about her. If he couldn’t find even that much control inside himself, not even enough to focus his thoughts on what was right in front of him, then there was no way he could get near her.
Seeking control in a deep breath, Demon exhaled and made himself focus on his lawyer.
Usually, he had to ride to Findley-call-me-Finn’s swanky office in downtown L.A. for meetings, but today the guy had shown up unannounced at the shop, so now they were sitting in the showroom office, Finn in his custom suit and Demon in a greasy coverall.
“Sorry. Didn’t catch it, no.”
Finn sighed. “It’s big news, Michael.” Yep, only lawyers and assholes called him Michael.
And Faith. He shook her name out of his head. Tried to, anyway.
“My investigator has a solid lead on Dakota’s location,” Finn went on.
That got his attention. Dakota. Tucker’s mom. Demon never wanted to see her again. “I told you I don’t want her found. I will kill her if I see her again. That’ll probably screw up the case, don’t you think?”
“And I’ve told you that finding her could help us. It fast-tracks your case. And if she’s still the disaster she was when Tucker was removed, with all the evidence in his file of how often the first caseworker let her slide, and with your solid record for the past four or five years, that’s a strong visual for your case.” He smiled an oily, lawyer smile. “If you think you can hold off killing her until we win.” The smile disappeared. “That’s a joke, by the way.”
Demon leaned forward and held out his arm. It was covered in ink, but if you looked close enough, you could still see it. So he put his arm up in Finn’s face. “Do you see that, right on the inside of my elbow?”
Finn looked. “A scar, right? Yeah, I see it. Did Dakota do that?”
“No. I’ve had those since I was nine. Burns from the lit end of a cigar. Three of ‘em, all in a neat little row.” He dropped his arm. “Tucker has one like it on the bottom of his foot.”
“I know. They noted it in his file when he was removed.” ‘They,’ in that instance, was Sid. She’d gotten Tucker’s case when the first caseworker, a piece of shit who’d been trading Demon’s kid’s safety for trips to Kota’s cooze, retired. Sid had removed Tucker on her first home
He knew he should be grateful, and he actually was. Sid had helped him get this guy to take his case, and he was getting a famously successful lawyer to fight for him and his boy. That was good. That was lucky, and Demon normally had the world’s shittiest luck. But he could see the distrust and contempt when the guy talked to him, and he hated it.
It was worth it. Getting Tucker would be worth just about anything, but he hated it nevertheless.
That wasn’t what had his attention wandering today, though. Today, all he could think about was Faith.
He’d been walking around like the undead all morning, and not just because he’d been up at first light and out of the house before anyone else was moving, hours earlier than he’d needed to be at the shop.
If he hadn’t left first thing, he would probably have ended up in the room Faith had taken. And he had to get his head straight before he did anything that had to do with her. He didn’t trust himself. Last night, he’d been hit by an old wave of want and need that had been overpowering long ago and had spent ten years only getting stronger, without him even realizing it. If he lost control of himself, he could hurt her. Even if she felt like he did, even if she wanted, too, he could still hurt her.
Besides, did it even matter what they wanted? He’d been no good then, and the past ten years hadn’t made him better. He had seen things, done things that should never touch her. The darkness in him was darker, the wrongness more wrong.
He needed to stay away. Far away. And he needed to stop thinking about her. If he couldn’t find even that much control inside himself, not even enough to focus his thoughts on what was right in front of him, then there was no way he could get near her.
Seeking control in a deep breath, Demon exhaled and made himself focus on his lawyer.
Usually, he had to ride to Findley-call-me-Finn’s swanky office in downtown L.A. for meetings, but today the guy had shown up unannounced at the shop, so now they were sitting in the showroom office, Finn in his custom suit and Demon in a greasy coverall.
“Sorry. Didn’t catch it, no.”
Finn sighed. “It’s big news, Michael.” Yep, only lawyers and assholes called him Michael.
And Faith. He shook her name out of his head. Tried to, anyway.
“My investigator has a solid lead on Dakota’s location,” Finn went on.
That got his attention. Dakota. Tucker’s mom. Demon never wanted to see her again. “I told you I don’t want her found. I will kill her if I see her again. That’ll probably screw up the case, don’t you think?”
“And I’ve told you that finding her could help us. It fast-tracks your case. And if she’s still the disaster she was when Tucker was removed, with all the evidence in his file of how often the first caseworker let her slide, and with your solid record for the past four or five years, that’s a strong visual for your case.” He smiled an oily, lawyer smile. “If you think you can hold off killing her until we win.” The smile disappeared. “That’s a joke, by the way.”
Demon leaned forward and held out his arm. It was covered in ink, but if you looked close enough, you could still see it. So he put his arm up in Finn’s face. “Do you see that, right on the inside of my elbow?”
Finn looked. “A scar, right? Yeah, I see it. Did Dakota do that?”
“No. I’ve had those since I was nine. Burns from the lit end of a cigar. Three of ‘em, all in a neat little row.” He dropped his arm. “Tucker has one like it on the bottom of his foot.”
“I know. They noted it in his file when he was removed.” ‘They,’ in that instance, was Sid. She’d gotten Tucker’s case when the first caseworker, a piece of shit who’d been trading Demon’s kid’s safety for trips to Kota’s cooze, retired. Sid had removed Tucker on her first home
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