Page 104 of Playing with Fire

“I’d stay out of the break room for twenty minutes unless you want to glow for a while.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Thanks for the help.” I turned to my grandfather-in-law. “Remember: chalk, map, ink, car.”

“Would you care to elaborate what you’re going to do with all those things?”

I was beginning to understand how Quinn had become so infuriating. It had to be a part of his genetic makeup, just like his devastatingly good looks. “You’re the one who thought it was a good idea for Quinn to go to the gym. Therefore, you’re the one who has to get the things I need to find him—and that poor cop. I bet he kidnapped that poor cop sent out with him.”

“No, I suspect he suggested the young man should go home and enjoy the rest of the night with his wife. I told Chief Hollands his cop was probably influenced and to let it be.”

“Influenced? How?”

“Little Samuel is part incubus, dear. He just doesn’t draw on that part of his heritage unless necessary.”

My eyes widened. “He can do that? Without pixie dust?”

“He prefers to handle matters with his own skills rather than rely on, and I quote, ‘a cheap trick.’ He makes things more difficult on himself than necessary. If I could—”

“I don’t want to know.”

“But—”

“No.”

“If—”

“I have pixie dust, phoenix feathers, ambrosia, and sedatives. You and your snakes don’t scare me. Go ahead and continue that sentence, old man. I could be sleeping in some nice hotel room right now, but no. I have to chase my idiot husband who got the idea into his pea-sized brain he needed to handle a horny gorgon hive on his own.”

“You mean eradicate.”

I was so tempted to find out what pixie dust would do to the gorgon. “He’s not stupid enough to cheat on me. Remember, magical ball and chain? I’d know.”

“He’s also incapable of it.”

“Not stupid enough, incapable—whatever. He wouldn’t. End of story.”

“You’re very trusting.”

“You’re very lucky I’m holding phoenix feathers right now, or you’d be sporting coral snake braids, old man. Quinn’s a stubborn ass, but he’s not like that. Just help me find a damned map, ink, chalk, and a car already.”

Quinn’s grandfather sighed. “Gorgons are patriarchal.”

“Bullshit. You’re whipped by a centaur, and we both know it. You’re not dumb enough to cross her, and you’re not dumb enough to cross me, either. Do you want to know why? Please tell me you do, just so I can tell you.”

He scowled, and his snakes hissed at me. “Why?”

“You adore me because I don’t put up with your shit. Now, go fetch my things so I can find Quinn.”

“God help us all.”

“You keep saying that.”

Had I been anyone else, I would’ve been petrified. The gorgon’s magic made my eyeballs itch. He grunted, hissed at me, and stormed off. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” I called after him. See? I could be a polite, well-adjusted adult when I wanted.

Chapter Twenty-Three