Chapter 3

I paidthe cab driver and stepped out onto the pavement across the street from the club where Alice worked. I stood in the shadows and surveyed the area, thinking. In or out? Where would Albert strike?

A long line of young, hot twenty-somethings stood in line waiting for the bouncer to give them the go-ahead to enter. Albert, with his looks, would never make it past the gorilla—I would, of course—but if Albert couldn't enter the club, where would he lurk in wait? His previous method of operation always had him attacking near the victim's place of work, hitting them when their shifts ended and they were headed home. Since I knew this, logic dictated I check the alley behind the club, which usually boasted an employee entrance. Dark and with less witnesses, it was a perfect spot for those wishing to indulge in nefarious activities, my favorite kind.

In this day and age, though, even the back doors were guarded against the unwanted, not a label that applied to me—humble I am not. Another gorilla of a bouncer leaned against the brick wall beside the employee entrance, smoking. If I'd wanted in, I would have just walked up to him and dazzled him with my presence, but I didn't want to go inside or be noticed. Besides, he wasn't my type. I liked big and muscled guys, but judging by his package, he lacked the heavy equipment needed for true satisfaction.

Not my fault I had specific needs. As a half-demon, I'd inherited some neat powers. I wasn't just gorgeous, awesome, and super sexy—not to mention completely shameless—I also had the ability to either be noticed or not, totally handy for the times when the situation called for a stakeout. But as a half-demon and daughter to a demon of lust, my sexual appetite went beyond voracious. I just thanked my lucky stars I'd inherited enough human to skip the succubus gene. The thought of draining a guy's soul while screwing him was a little too freaky, even for me.

Calling on my demonic abilities, I blended into the shadows and made my way to the gray metal doors that marked the back exit of the club. The thug in the black T-shirt didn't even look in my direction. Hidden, I performed the most boring aspect of my job. I waited.

Damn, I hated this part. The vibrations of the music blasting from the club thrummed through my body, calling me like a tempting siren—a male one, of course. It took a lot of willpower to keep my feet still, but I was on the job, so, hard as I found it, I bit my lip and persevered. I know, martyr material. Too bad the name Saint already belonged to someone. I could have really done something cool with that as my superhero name. A nun's habit with slits up the thigh and...

I left off imagining ways to sluttify a sister's holy dress when I heard the soft scuff of someone sneaking up the alley. The big brute at the rear door had just gone inside, and right on cue, out from the shadows, scuttled Albert, my escapee from Hell.

With my target in sight, I dropped my do-not-notice-me glamour—when I was young I used to like imagining I was part Jedi—and cranked up the look-at-me one on high. I strutted with swishing hips towards my target, my curvy frame undulating hypnotically. As expected, his eyes locked onto me, riveted by my sensuous motion. It would take a stronger soul than his to ignore my feminine attributes. I tried not to shudder when he licked his lips. His stay in Hell really hadn't agreed with him. I would describe his appearance, but trust me when I say you'd prefer to keep your cookies in your belly.

A few steps more, all that separated us, and I'd touch him. Then wham, I'd invoke the magic I got with the job. The spell would create a target-specific portal that would send Albert back to Hell where he belonged. Once he was in lockup, screaming his apologies for daring to flout the system, I'd collect the bounty for his capture. Some shoes I'd placed on layaway—because my cards were maxed out—were counting on this bonus.

At least that was the plan until he appeared. He dropped down from the night sky, an agile hunk of male who made my jaw drop for several reasons. One, he wore only a pair of indecently low-slung jeans, with no shirt and no shoes. I mean who came to a fight barefoot?

This simple fact distracted me and turned on my lust, which, in turn, annoyed me. Wasn't there an unwritten rule somewhere that stated, like most restaurants, shirts and shoes must be worn to a fight? If not, I'd start a lobby for one because the amount of naked—mmm, muscled—torso displayed was waaaaay too distracting for poor little me, who obviously hadn't received a good shag in a while.

The second thing that rendered me speechless—a state my dad would have found amusing—was the fact that Mr. Hunky bestowed upon me a masculine grin—a naughty one meant to make me cream my panties—and said in a velvety baritone, "Run along, sweetheart. I've got this."

Me, one of Hell's most successful bounty hunters, dismissed with a smile and a wave of his hand. His treatment made me want to tear his pants off and ride him like a cowgirl—I mean, he'd called me sweetheart, how hot was that?—while, at the same time, made me see red.

I'm gonna wipe the smirk off his face. Then I'm gonna kiss him. Then...

Caught in so many conflicting emotions, I'm afraid I didn't react quickly enough, and he took matters into his own hands.Did I mention they were huge? He turned and gave me his back, which, I'll admit, was almost as sexy as his front and would have only been improved with a set of nail marks—mine, of course. With an animalistic grace that would have put most predators to shame, Mr. Creams-Panties approached my target and engaged him in a slugfest.

What a show. I totally needed a fan or, even better, a really cold ice pack for my crotch. Heat suffused me as I watched Mr. Cream dance around a dazed-looking Albert. I'd forgotten all about the bounty in my fascination with watching him move. In that moment, I was just like a man, lust making all the blood in my brain rush to other places, and I think I might have drooled.

The hunk used no weapon, unlike the scuzzball Albert, who wielded a serrated knife, a dangerous fact that did not daunt my shoeless hero in the least. His fists flashed and connected with solid thumps. The escaped soul reeled beneath the force of his blows, but no matter how well my hero acquitted himself, he couldn't win. Souls couldn't die.

Sucking in my stomach—scrawny I was not—I strutted over to interfere and send the wandering one back to Hades. I looked forward to collecting my reward for a job well done, and as a treat for Mr. Cream being hot, I'd bestow some of my pleasure on the treasure hidden in his pants.

Before I could touch Albert and say the words to send him back where he belonged, my shirtless wonder said them, and with a dwindling scream of frustration—a scream I almost repeated—my new pair of shoes, umm target, was sucked back to Hell.

I gaped at the glistening skin on the back of my shirtless hunk, too angry for words—not to mention still hornier than ever.

He turned and faced me. With a sensual smile, he strutted toward me, and even in my pissed-off state, I couldn't help the arousal that flashed through me. He was fucking gorgeous. Built like an ox and at least six and a half feet, he towered over me. Slabs of muscle covered his impossibly wide chest, and his arms were so thick I doubted I could get both hands around them. His skin was tanned and smooth while his unruly hair was black as night. Fuck me, I wanted him—naked, like right now.

A light glinted in his shockingly blue eyes, and I wondered briefly what demon caste he belonged to, for this close, I could sense his otherness.

I said nothing when he placed a hand around my waist and pulled me hard against him, lifting me so our lips aligned. Another kind of girl might have protested his manly assumption. That girl wasn't me.

I wanted him to kiss me. And he did.

The touch of his hard lips on mine sent an electric shock throughout my body, and I clutched at him tightly as my knees turned to pudding and buckled. His mouth slanted over mine, claiming it with seductive mastery. Lest you think I completely succumbed to him, I should note I gave back as good as I got, slipping my tongue between his lips to wetly tangle with his.

I lost myself in the pleasure of the kiss. Unlike many prudes, I saw no issue with making out with guys I barely knew. I tended to live in the moment, and boy, this was one moment I didn't want to end.

Plastered against his solid length, I couldn't miss his erection as it pulsed against me behind the confining material of his jeans. I ground myself against it, and he grunted in my mouth. He slid his hands down from my waist to cup my full ass and pressed me more firmly against him.

Oh sweet fucking bliss.Wet didn't come close to describing the state of my pussy, and I couldn't wait to soak his cock.

If it hadn't been for the stupid drunken humans who came stumbling into the alley, I would have screwed him, right there against the brick wall. But I had a softer bed at my place. We separated, our breathing uneven, pulses racing, and I opened my mouth to tell him to come back to my apartment so I could make him a lucky man.

He, unfortunately, spoke first and ruined my mood. "You're welcome."

I think my jaw dropped. I know I clenched a fist when I asked him tightly, "Welcome for what?"

"Rescuing you, of course."

I gaped at him then I lost it. "Listen here, you—you—" I sputtered.

"Drake."

Ooh, hot name, but I wouldn't let his hotness distract me from my anger, lusty hormones or not. "I don't know who you think you are, but I had things perfectly under control until you decided to jump out of the sky like some underdressed Batman and take over. That was my bounty you stole."

He scoffed at me, and I let it pass. I know. I was surprised I didn't kill him too.

"Please, a cute little thing like you a bounty hunter?"

I restrained myself from preening. Me, cute and little? Damned smooth talker. But pretty words wouldn't allow him to escape my wrath. "Don't you use flattery to cloud the issue. I was assigned this bounty by the Hellacious Office of Escapees." More shortly known as HOE.

He crossed his arms over his impressive chest, and my mouth went dry because all the moisture in my body headed straight for my pussy.

"Impossible. They put me on this case just today."

Even though I was slightly overcome with lust, things suddenly became clear. "Medusa," I snarled. "I'm gonna feed her snakes laxatives for this."

A rumbling chuckle made me break off from the swearing and various tortures I'd inflict on the slithery bitch. "What's so damned funny?" I asked, features creased in a scowl, one that I might add didn't intimidate him at all.

"You're funny. And cute when you're mad." His eyes glinted with mirth, and his lips twitched in a smile that made me want to taste them all over again. "Say, do you want to get a coffee or something?"

Ha, first he'd stolen my bounty, and then he thought I was going to let him ravish me. Hmm, then again, on second thought, a ravishment that included a lot of oral would probably go a long way toward appeasing me.

"I say let's skip right to the something." I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the street where we could flag a cab. I could have called a portal, but I really had this thing for making out in the backseat of cabs while the driver watched.

I didn't drag my shirtless hunk for long, as his greater stride brought him alongside me and his fingers weaved through mine, an intimate gesture I wouldn't have believed of a big guy like him.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me your name before you have your way with me?" he asked, humor in his tone. "I'm Drake by the way."

"So you already said. I'm Sally," I replied absently, looking up the street for a yellow taxi.

"Wait a second." He halted and turned me to face him. "You wouldn't be the Sally would you?"

"Depends. Which Sally are you talking about?"

"The one I heard about. The one who's put up a page on Hellbook looking for a superhero name and a sidekick."

"Minion," I corrected.

He laughed. I didn't get the joke, so I stood there tapping my foot, glaring at him, my ardor shriveling with each guffaw. He kept howling, though, so I finally had to ask. "What's so fucking funny?"

"I expected someone bigger and badder," he snorted, "not some cute little thing. And it's not a sidekick you need, but a boyfriend to take care of you."

He had not seriously just said that. "I don't need a man to take care of me. I do fine on my own." I stepped away from him.

"Ah, don't be mad. I think it's adorable you're looking for help. I'm here if you want to give me a test run." He shot me a charming smile.

I deflected it with a shield of pride. My chin angled. "I don't think so, and when it comes to the position of minion or boyfriend, you need not apply. And as for not being bad enough for my job, let me show you why I'm not a girl you fuck with." I wear pointy-toed shoes for a reason, and I showed Drake one of their many painful uses.

A cab pulled up as he hunched over gasping for air. I smiled at him sweetly. "Next time, hands off my escapee. And in the future, wear a shirt. It's indecent for you to gallivant around half-naked, distracting those of us with serious jobs to do."

I could have sworn I heard him laugh as I slammed the cab door shut. Not likely, only a madman would find humor in the pain I'd inflicted.

Turns out he was somewhat masochistic.