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Pellini shuddered. “Jesus Christ, I’ve got the fucking willies now. Let’s move.”
“I’m with you. I don’t want to risk touching him again, so that bedspread is coming with us. If you can back your truck into the garage, we can load him up without the neighbors freaking.”
“On it,” he said and was gone.
I kept a wary eye on Cory while I made a call to security at the house, letting them know they needed to prep a quarantine area.
Pellini returned as I disconnected. “Can’t back in. Bertha’s in the garage.”
“Crap. We’ll have to—” I stopped and reconsidered. Bertha was Cory’s 1976 Chevy Nova, decked out with radio equipment and an antenna farm. “Load him into Bertha. You drive it and him home, and we’ll send someone for your truck and the rest of Cory’s radio setup.”
He didn’t look at all happy about abandoning his truck but was smart enough to catch on. “Not only can we use the radios, it’ll be good for Cory when he gets through, um, this.”
“Exactly,” I said then tensed at the sound of a car engine. A careful peek through the blinds revealed a government sedan blocking the driveway. “Sonofabitch. Feds.”
Pellini groaned and smacked his forehead. “Gallagher texted he was coming after us for the Piggly Wiggly debrief. I forgot because of all this.” He waved a hand at Cory.
“I’ll deal with him. Lock the door behind me and don’t let them in.” I walked out of the stinky house and closed the door, relieved to hear the snick of the deadbolt. At the end of the driveway, Clint Gallagher stepped out of the sedan.
Damn, but I sure hoped I didn’t smell as if I’d been dunked in a vat of Eau de Hell Gel.
Chapter 4
While the majority of the Feds assigned to this area opted to wear practical and comfortable fatigues, Clint Gallagher stuck with the men-in-black dark-suit-with-sunglasses look. He regarded me through those sunglasses now, mouth pursed in annoyance. I couldn’t deny that he was a handsome man in an FBI-recruiting-poster sort of way. Square jaw, high cheekbones, fierce blue eyes, and even a frickin’ cleft in his chin that I promised myself I’d someday get to punch.
Gallagher had been on Ryan and Zack’s task force, but the combination of my snark and the stick up his ass meant we’d never hit it off. I considered giving him a bright smile as I strolled toward my vehicle, but opted instead for a surly glare. He’d know I was faking any hint of pleasure at the sight of him. Besides, I didn’t want him to think I enjoyed his company and run the risk of having to be sociable.
My plan was simple: pacify Gallagher, send him on his way, and get Cory to the nexus. “You didn’t have to chase me down.”
He whipped off the sunglasses to better glower at me. “Is it in your job description to make my day harder than it already is?”
“It’s in the fine print.”
Gallagher looked past me toward the house. “How’s Cory getting on?”
“Pretty good. He’s wiped out from PT, so he’s taking a nap.” All I needed to make my day extra super special was for Gallagher to decide he wanted to visit the squishy-gooey Cory. “Pellini’s making sure Cory has everything he needs, then we’re out of here.” I fished my keys from my pocket. “I need to get home and hook up with the Russian DIRT liaison. How about we get that debrief out of the way?”
“Deal.” His mouth flattened into a thin smile. “I’ll follow you over to the Federal Command Center.”
I faked a wince. “Sorry. My schedule’s too tight to hit good ol’ Fed Central today. I’ll give you a quick verbal report and email the full thing later.”
“You had enough time to make a social call.”
His tone put my back up. “A few minutes with Cory versus the hours that Fed Central would chew out of my day? No comparison. Not to mention, how I schedule my time is none of your goddamn business.” I scowled. “Since when is face-to-face a requirement?”
“Since now.” Gallagher jabbed his sunglasses at me. “Word has it we had a Class 1A demon down in the dirt, and you let it get away.”
“We had it?” I narrowed my eyes. “When was the last time you got down and dirty with any demon, let alone a Class 1A?”
“That’s not the point.”
I took a step into his personal space and jerked my chin up. “We—the DIRT team—did indeed have the demon netted.”
Jaw tight, he closed the distance until only half a foot separated us. “Exactly. Research shows that an LG4-621S stun net should be more than adequate to incapacitate a 1A demon.”
“That’s a nice theory,” I said, planting my hands on my hips to help power my mega-glare. “Small technical difficulty, though. The stun feature doesn’t work so great when the net is here and the power supply is snowed in at Memphis R&D. All I had was an untested, undersized, unpowered net, and the wizard staff.”
He blinked and retreated a step. “I didn’t get that in the briefing.”
