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I wasn’t snooping with intent. There was nothing in Raphael’s study that could give me what I needed: proof. For that, I’d have to get my fiancé naked.
Lucifer grunted something and motioned for me to follow him.
Thirty minutes later, we’d passed Fenway Park headed toward Storrow Drive. The SUV offered a smooth ride, and the silence was like a lullaby.
My head lazily rolled as I struggled to keep my eyes open. The time difference was catching up with me. I tried to focus on the familiar scenery under the city lights to stay awake.
Though it’d been a decade, not much had changed. Boston appeared the same—a city built on the backs of immigrants and that boasted hardworking people, winning sports franchises, and more corruption than all of Ireland combined.
The Charles River winked at me through the darkness. Thoughts of human beings reduced to fish bait filled my mind.
The man beside me was responsible for such wickedness. Lucifer was a proficient serial killer. A sociopath, no doubt. Only a silly girl could’ve ever believed we would end up as friends. Or worse, did I really think I could sway him into becoming my ally?
It felt like both my heart and my pride had been sinking to astonishing levels for the last twenty-four hours, but Lucifer’s continued lack of engagement on the way to my childhood church was the final straw. The used-up organ finally hit rock bottom, mortified by its owner’s delusions.
Lucifer’s gaze shifted from straight ahead to the rearview mirror. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as his eyes darted to the side-view mirror and then refocused on the road. He took the passing lane without using his blinker. The vehicle accelerated and so did my heart rate. When he took a hard right turn from the left lane, I knew we had a tail.
It was a concerning development, but not a shocking one. It was the reality of our life. I only wondered if it was his own flesh and blood having us followed or a different, more blatant enemy.
We arrived at St. Patrick’s without further drama and parked alongside the curb just as a light rain started to fall.
“Stay put,” Lucifer ordered before getting out.
I followed his movements as he took his sweet time rounding the front of the vehicle, surveying our surroundings. The street was quiet aside from an elderly man walking a small dog, and three college-aged girls. The latter were ignorant to the potential peril they’d happened upon and huddled together with hushed giggles as they passed Lucifer, who stood sentry at my door.
I rolled my eyes at their unwise infatuation with tall, dark, and dangerous.
My skin prickled with annoyance. Maybe a little hypocrisy too.
But when I turned my angry glare on the devil, I saw it was I who held his shatterproof stare, not the pretty girls without depraved pasts or dead souls.
I suddenly felt seen in the most vulnerable way possible.
I eased out of the front passenger seat, and Lucifer’s gaze landed briefly on the slit of my dress. Thinking he’d caught a glimpse of my knife, panic clawed its way up my throat. I straightened my spine as my feet found purchase on the concrete sidewalk.
The movement forced his eyes back to mine. A stoic expression looked back. Our silent exchanges could be deafening one minute and frustratingly reticent the next.
Lucifer’s hand rose swiftly at my side. My reaction was an inside-outside block. Something fell to the ground. Before I could process what had happened, he’d shackled my wrists in his grip, then spun me in place until my back was pressed against his hard front.
“It’s raining. I thought you’d might like an umbrella.” His voice was calm and deep as his hot breath tickled my neck.
Lucifer’s rough palms chaffed the delicate skin of my bare wrists as his hold tightened. I anticipated a panic attack that never came. My body didn’t protest. Instead, I found myself welcoming the restraint of his hands.
My unorthodox reaction should have been a warning.
A sound I hadn’t heard in forever filled my ears. It was so foreign, yet so comforting, that I allowed my head to rest against my captor’s chest. I looked up at him, and magnetic eyes stared back at me. My knees turned to rubber.
Only then did I realize that the exotic noise was the cadence of my own laughter.
I licked my lips as the sound died in the back of my throat, but my smile remained.
My life was so fucked-up.
I was so fucked-up.
Only someone as fucked-up as me could reclaim their broken spirit in the clutches of the devil.
Lucifer
