Kiss & Hell (14 page)

If she had something breakable on hand, she’d hurl it.

But the luxury of ravaging a pantry full of dishes wasn’t something she was going to be afforded right now. Not with Clyde here to witness it. Not with the possibility that he might still be full of crap and he’d skip on off to Lucifer with maniacal glee in his black heart.

Clyde spoke her name, deep and low. His tone held pity, and that was something she just wasn’t into. “Delaney?”

She turned away from him, letting her hair fall around her face. “Don’t say anything, Clyde, okay? Don’t apologize anymore. Don’t rationalize. Just go do what you have to, and let me figure this out.”

The timbre of his voice was deep, his words sober. “I’m sorry, Delaney. There really wasn’t any other way to tell you.”

True that. “I know. So thanks for telling me all of it. That was all of it, wasn’t it?”

“That’s everything I know.”

Her gut tightened. Wasn’t that enough? “Hookay, then. Like I said before, we’re golden; and obviously I have some stuff I’m going to have to deal with. So you go deal with your stuff and I’ll deal with mine. Free and clear, okay? No more prisms and salt and whatever else I have in my bag of tricks. Promise.”

He shook his head. “No. While I appreciate the fact that you won’t be burning my eyeballs at the stake, I’m not going anywhere. And if you’ll just skip the histrionics, I’ll tell you why.”

She had no histrionics left in her. What she did have—or at least needed—was a plan. Lucifer had sent in what he thought was a serious player to make good on his longtime threat to punish her.

Delaney closed her eyes to stave off the gruesome memory of a rainy night long ago—and Vincent. Simply thinking his name made her skin crawl. She’d stolen something from Vincent that Satan thought was rightfully his—and he wanted it back. Yet, to this day, she still didn’t understand what she’d stolen. And why did he want revenge
now
? What had taken him so long to come calling?

Clyde’s arrival meant one way or the other, she and Satan were bound to mix it up—soon. “But I can’t help you. You’re not stuck here. My job is to cross you over. I can’t cross what isn’t available for crossing.”

“But I do want to cross,” was his bullish reply.

“Tell me something, Clyde.”

“Okay.”

“Do you see a light—like, anywhere? And I’m not talking like football stadium lights, maybe just a dim light far off in the distance? Or maybe a lab filled with every desirable item for a brainiac like yourself, maybe?”

“Uh, no.”

“Then my job here is done. If you don’t see anything that even remotely looks like something you’d consider your eternal paradise, I really can’t help. And I’m sorry, but that’s just how it goes.”

“But you can help me. Don’t forget why I’m supposedly here. To win your heart, remember?”

Her stomach sank again. “Well, that’s not happening.” Not even to keep Hell’s minions at bay. Not even. That was a game she just couldn’t play.

“Again, maybe not literally, but we can shoot for the figurative. We’ll just pretend.”

Which was probably about as close to a committed relationship as she was getting. “So play house?”

“That’s right. Look, Delaney, I’m being watched. I’ve been here a whole day and my level boss has already sent in someone to check up on me. I have to, for all outward appearances, make like we’re—we’re—you know . . .”

“Hooking up.”

Clyde’s brow furrowed again. “Yeah. That. Besides, I have nowhere else to go.”

“And this benefits me how, Clyde? I’m not seeing what I’ll be getting out of this but another body taking up my limited space.”

“I’ll look out for you.”

Delaney barked a skeptical laugh then covered her mouth with her hand. She didn’t want to openly debase his manhood, but hellloooo—he had been secured in duct tape by a woman who hated to even chip a nail. “Look out for me? How do you suppose you’re going to do that? With your one fireball? You’re a one-trick pony, my friend.”

“Maybe. But might I point out, it was just me who spotted the demon, wasn’t it? Before you, all knowing and all seeing, I might add,” he volleyed back.

“Smug much? Yes, you spotted the demon, but like I said, my radar’s all wonky. I was distracted. It’ll get better if you go away.”

“I just can’t do that. I know my motives aren’t totally altruistic. I do have an investment in this, like covering my own ass, but I don’t want anyone hurt while I do it. You need someone to look out for you, and maybe I’m not exactly the best demon, but that should just prove to you that I shouldn’t be a demon to begin with. Now that I’ve told you everything, I can’t just leave you all alone to fend off demons who’re much bigger than I’ll ever be. So how about we strike up a deal? You let me stay here, and I’ll keep whoever my level boss sends in to check up on me from getting to you until we can figure out what to do.”

“Why can’t you just go back to wherever it is you go when you disappear?”

Clyde gave her another grim glance. “Do you have any idea what that place is like? It’s just a prettier version of Hell. Lots and lots of doomed souls wandering around, crying, bemoaning their fates, and wringing their hands. Best I can figure is it’s some sort of holding room—or plane, as you call it—for those who’ve led questionable lives. Very depressing. You don’t want me to be depressed, do you?” He flashed her a grin—one that made her pulse jump. “Aren’t you all about spiritual wellness? My spirit would be sucking wind in that place. And besides, for some reason, I couldn’t keep myself there—I kept ending up back here.” He pointed to the ground by his bare feet.

Crazy that. But she’d had enough. Clyde couldn’t help her, and while she understood his dilemma, she still wasn’t sure he was righteous. So no go. Sticking her hand in her pocket, she whipped out the prism, swishing it in the air. “I know I promised, but . . . you do know you made me do this, don’t you?”

“Christ!” he shouted, his hands going to his eyes, rubbing them. “Would you cut me some slack?”

Delaney popped up off the chair when his human form began to shimmer. “No slack. ’Bye, Clyde.” She waved the prism once more, watching his broad chest become transparent, and then he faded completely.

She stooped to pick up the throw and had a moment’s remorse. Now Clyde was off on some plane that was a prettier version of Hell—naked.

Way to cheer up the tortured souls.

A few hours later, after a long stint on the Internet, searching Google for anything she could find about Clyde, she decided another shower was in order for her achy muscles. If he really was who he said he was, she wasn’t going to find that out on the World Wide Web. There’d been several Clyde Atwells and none had died within the last three months. The rest of the information was limited to some pretty general stuff from phone directories across the country. Every clue he’d given her about his life, she’d put into a search engine, only to come up empty-handed.

Stripping her clothes off, she ran a weary hand over her grainy eyes and flipped the shower handles on, then reached for her favorite oatmeal and seaweed scrub while the water warmed. If she was quick, she just might get enough hot water time in to wash her hair. Eyeing the dogs all sitting in a row on her bed, plumping her decorative pillows with their scruffy paws, she gave them the look. “You guys behave, got that? I have to say, I’m just a little disappointed that Clyde seems to have no trouble getting you knuckleheads to pay attention—and he ain’t the one with the kibble. So you’d all better start listening to me. I find one pillow out of order, I’ll know who was humping it, and the shit will fly. I’ll call Cesar pronto, and then we’ll just see who’s your pack leader. Understood?” She scratched heads as she hurried to get in the shower before the hot water disappeared.

Sprays of water, blessedly hot, slid over her skin in cascades as she wet her hair, grabbing the shampoo and working it into a soapy lather. Her thoughts strayed to Clyde and how she’d shipped him off to planes unknown on a rather harsh note. Why she was having bouts of regret in the way of stomach clenches was something she couldn’t pinpoint.

Or maybe she could. She was a sucker for anything or anyone hard up. If Clyde was telling the truth, he was undoubtedly hard up.

And hard.

Sweet mother and all twelve apostles. She was having naughty flashbacks to a kiss that he’d claimed was nothing more than some kind of covert operation. Yes, she was. Epic naughty thoughts.

Clenching her eyes shut, she gave her hair a good scrub. This was one of the few times in her life she decided she wasn’t going to behave like she’d just fallen off the turnip truck—no matter how convincing Clyde had been.

He was a bad dude.

End of.

She was officially absolving herself. Clyde’d been right about one thing—she had bigger fish to fry, and that included figuring out what Lucifer’s next move was. So she’d just have to go on believing that this story Clyde’d given her was just a way to get her to let his demonicness into her life and then he would do exactly what he claimed his mission was—trash her.

There it was again.

That infernal, nagging niggle in the pit of her belly that said she’d maybe possibly misjudged him. She’d never had so much one-on-one contact for such an extended period of time with a demon like she’d had with Clyde.

That had to be it.

Delaney went back to scrubbing her hair, eyes closed, enjoying the oddly blissfully hot water. She gave her scalp a good massage, but the rustle of plastic stilled her hands.

“So this could be labeled awkward, right?”

Get. Out. “What about me naked and you in my shower while I am isn’t awkward, demon?”

“Before you go screeching at me, just hear me out.”

Her hands immediately went in ten different directions at once to try to cover her girlie bits while shampoo dripped into her eyes, blinding her. “You know, I have something to say here, and I’ll try not to screech, but I make no promises. You evoke screeching.”

“By all means, say something.”

Her words came out in a watery, garbled drip of shampoo when she spat, “What, in the ever-loving fuck, are you doing in my shower? I’m naked, for Christ’s sake!”

“Yeah,” he said on a gusty sigh. “Me, too.”

“Still?”

“Yep.”

“But you’ve been naked since I met you. Me? Not so much. For you it’s a standard in our budding relationship. I personally like to get to at least share a granola bar before I consent to take my clothes off.”

“Well, my eyes are closed, if that’s any consolation,” he offered with a dry sarcasm she could almost taste on her lips.

For some whacked reason, it left her deflated that he hadn’t at least peeked. Gee, twisted much, Delaney? That ridiculous notion only made her angrier. “I don’t believe you.”

“Swear it.”

“What is it about me that you can’t seem to resist? I’ve all but made your eyeballs bleed. Yet here you are. This could be considered stalkerish behavior, Clyde Atwell,” she drawled.

“I’m no stalker, Delaney Markham.”

“Then explain, demon,” she growled, finally gathering enough of her wits to begin rinsing her hair, but too afraid to open her eyes. She’d seen him in almost all of his glory. In fact, she’d just been strolling down the memory lane of nudity when he’d popped in. It’d been hard enough to resist the throw-blanketed Clyde. Wet and wild was definitely out.

“I swear to Christ, Delaney, I have no idea how I ended up here. I was off on that dismal, dreary plane you prismed me back to, and I admit, I was thinking about our predicament, and then wham, here I am.” His voice rumbled with gravelly irritation, leaving a vibration in her chest that made it tickle.

She squinted one eye open while water battered her face, keeping her chin up so she could only see from the tops of his shoulders up. She was in treacherous waters if she didn’t. What she found was a rather shamefaced demon, huddled in a corner, dwarfing her small shower space.

Wow. The demon was a gentleman. He really did have his eyes closed.

“Didn’t I tell you pink wasn’t a good color for you?” she chided, letting her hands slide to her breasts. Whether he was ogling them or not, modesty must prevail.

Clyde’s hand went to his head, pushing her shower cap up on his forehead. “Noted, and I have no clue how I ended up in this—it was just here on my head—I was just here. It’s like I said before, I keep ending up back
here
. With you. I’m convinced that has to mean something.”

“It means you’re ruining my shower. Wasn’t it enough that you screwed up
Ghost Whisperer
? I don’t get to indulge in a hot shower often because I hardly ever have hot water, and now you’re sucking it all up. So, please, I’m begging you, get out, and keep your eyes closed while you do it.” The last thing she needed was a critique from Body by Bowflex. Demon was definitely the new sexy.

“I can’t do that without opening my eyes, but I’d be happy to open my eyes—with your permission, of course.” His affable smile turned into another cocky smirk.

Her sigh filled the small shower with her exasperation. There was only one way out and that was by squeezing past her. The other half of her cheap shower doors didn’t open enough for someone as large as Clyde to get past. “Give me your hand. I’ll guide you out. You’re going to have to step around me, so watch those klunky feet.”

Clyde placed his hand in hers while she maneuvered him around her, biting the inside of her lip and sucking in her stomach to keep their bodies from touching—all while she kept her eyes affixed to his face. His grip was tight around her fingers, their wet flesh connecting and leaving a raw trail of jumpy nerves that sizzled along her arm.

When she tugged him around her body, their chests touched, the patches of hair he still had scraping deliciously across her nipples. Her gulp was thick, her head light. Delaney blew out a shaky breath before she spoke. “I’m going to open the shower door, so step up when I tell you to.”

“Okay,” he grunted, sticking his other hand out as a guide.

“Step up now.” Sliding the creaky door open, she fought the impulse to look down at his ass, knowing full well it’d be as hard and sculpted as the rest of him.