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“I was… Ah, fuck it,” James starts before cutting himself off. He slaps Eugene on the head with his pistol again before he says, “You better be fucking quiet, asshole. I got music I want to hear.”
We walk to Lucifer’s own SUV and climb into the backseats. The heat is blowing heavily onto us. Peter up front is rubbing his black leather gloved hands together as watches us shut the doors.
Peter leans further around the seat to look at us both. “Cold enough out there for you guys?”
“A bit too much… It doesn’t feel quite like home, what with all the freezing temperatures.” Lucifer grins at us both before leaning back into his seat.
Of course the boss, Lucifer, likes it hot as hell in Garden City. It’s when all the crazy spills its blood over the brim of the cup. Now that we’ve become the largest enterprise in Garden City, Lucifer has been looking forward to another heat wave.
I think at times that he would like to watch the whole place burn, just for the amusement factor of it all.
I, on the other hand, prefer the cold and dead of winter. It’s the only time the hot, sticky humidity is gone from this hellish city. Neither I, nor my computers, enjoy all that warmth and humidity in the air. Like my machines, a cold environment is good for us. It’s easier to keep things sterile and predictable. Introduce moisture into any computer or electronic and it leads to instant failure.
I don’t like failures, not of my machines and not from people. Why the hell we can’t live in a city where it is cold and dry all the time causes me frustration. My computers and sense of sanity would benefit so much more from it.
“So where to? Still want to go to the docks?” Peter asks.
“Yes, we need to make a drop-off. Did you remember to bring the stuff I asked you about?” Lucifer answers.
“Yeah, I have it in the back.”
“Good.”
Peter turns back around and nods his head. “Your… sister… has been calling boss.”
“Thank you, Peter. Did Meredith say what she wanted?”
“She demanded that you speak with her,” Peter says as he pulls the vehicle out of the empty parking lot.
And right there I can feel all the blessed cold that was still wrapped into my bones evaporate instantaneously. My heart rate reaches an uncomfortable level as I look over to watch Lucifer’s face to gauge his reaction.
Does he feel the disturbance in the air as I do? Just the very mention of that name causes my body to react in unacceptable ways.
“And what, pray tell, does my dear sister demand of my attention?”
“Accommodations, money, accommodations… Simon is becoming unbearably restrictive. Should I continue?”
“No. I believe I get the gist of what she wants to speak about.”
“Good enough. Can I let her calls go to voicemail for the rest of the night? Even I can only stand the sound of her voice for so long boss.”
Rolling his eyes, Lucifer nods his head, “Yes.”
Restrictive my ass. If it wasn’t for my rules and way of doing things, she would be dead in a gutter in some back alley in Morocco. If I didn’t have her on strict lockdown in the safe house, she would be putting herself, and by extension me, in more danger than is allowed.
I can’t explain what made me take such a dangerous step in insanity. Taking her safety on as my own responsibility. Taking my self-control and throwing it to the damn wind. I don’t have an excuse.
She’s… she’s… the damn devil’s temptress.
The thought of her is as intoxicating as it is angering. She should not have this hold over me.
This… this…
I have no words for what I feel. In the mornings, since she has returned, I have driven myself to drastic measures by abusing my body in the gym. I’ve never pushed my body so hard before to purge itself of these desires. These damning thoughts.
If only I could quit thinking of her in my every waking moment.
Her voice is made of pure silk. Her eyes the deepest golden brown I have ever seen. Her dark, raven black hair falls down past her shoulders in natural waves. Her skin, I can find no flaws in it like I see in so many others. It’s tan, but it’s not one of those tans from a bottle or tanning booth. It’s natural.
She has a natural scent to her when I brush by her. It’s understated, but there. I never see her putting on perfume, but I smell it on her nonetheless. I’m not sure what attracts me to her more, her physical appearance or the fact that she absolutely infuriates me to no end.
I don’t know if she is knowingly torturing me or if it’s because I have deprived myself for so long, but I feel the delicate strands of my existence stretching far beyond their limits.
