Page 44 of Speak of the Devil
How the hell had that imp known he would be in that Uber?
He hoped the person driving the black truck was all right. Most likely, they would have survived the collision just fine, since their vehicle was much bigger and heavier than the Mazda.
Still, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the truck had been totaled.
As for the Uber, well, he was sure the imp had fled the scene just as soon as it realized he’d flown the coop. The cops were going to have a hard time figuring that one out…not that it wasso unusual for the person at fault in an accident to try to get away before the authorities arrived, but he doubted they had seen too many instances where any eyewitnesses on hand would swear they hadn’t seen anyone leave the vehicle.
While he knew that demons could detect the presence of others of their kind, he’d done everything he could to shield himself and make his movements difficult to track.
Obviously, he hadn’t done enough.
Another swallow of tequila. His phone was still in the messenger bag, which he’d set down on the kitchen counter as soon as he got here. Maybe he should call Delia and tell her what had happened, let her know she needed to be on her guard.
As soon as that thought went through his mind, however, he guessed that she shouldn’t be in any danger — why would the demons who were after him be interested in harassing an ordinary human? — and that he only wanted to call her because he needed to hear a half-friendly voice. His own fault for not working very hard to develop any kind of a social circle here, he supposed, although at the time, he’d told himself it just wasn’t safe to make connections until he was absolutely sure that no one had discovered where he’d gone to ground.
Well, those imps sure knew he was here…and that meant someone much higher up the food chain was the one pulling the strings. Lower-level demons like that simply didn’t come topside on their own.
However, he got the feeling they hadn’t yet discovered where he lived, or surely they would have already laid siege to the house. So maybe all his subterfuges hadn’t been completely useless.
With that not entirely cheerful thought to buoy him, he headed back into the kitchen to get more tequila.
Whatever else happened, he didn’t plan on going out again unless he had a damn good reason.
Chapter Fourteen
The restof the afternoon ticked by, and Delia realized she still hadn’t come to any decision as to whether she should let Robert Hendricks know that she’d found the demon who’d been winning so much of the casinos’ cash.
Well, part demon, anyway.
From what she’d been able to tell, Caleb possessed a lot of demon powers but otherwise was just as regular flesh and blood as she was. What she was supposed to think about that, she wasn’t sure.
But her one-thirty appointment stretched into two hours as she showed the couple — who were around her age — house after house, driving through the rain only to learn this place was too small, or this one didn’t have an open enough floorplan, or that one didn’t have a yard big enough to put in a pool.
By the time they were done…still without having made a decision, or course…Delia had been all too ready to hide in her office and catch up on some paperwork. But even though she kept herself busy, her brain continued to poke at her, making her go over that conversation with Caleb just one more time as she tried to determine who she owed more loyalty to — the part demon who was going to give her a big, fat commission once thedeal on the Pueblo Street house closed, or the man who’d hired her to see if demonic activity was behind the casinos’ recent losses.
Technically, Robert had hired her first. However, they didn’t have any kind of formal agreement — at least, not one backed up with a written contract — whereas Caleb was her official client, with the paperwork to prove it.
Jesus Christ, what a mess.
She’d halfway expected to hear from Robert sometime that day, but it seemed as if he was content to let her do her work for a while before he felt it necessary to check in.
Thank God for that. She needed as much time as possible to think.
The drive home wasn’t much fun, thanks to the rain — and a traffic accident that had choked the intersection at McLeod and Vegas Valley Drive. By the time she got there, the wreckage had been moved off to the side…it looked as if a white Mazda SUV and a big Ford F-250 had gotten into a wrestling contest, with the Mazda losing…but there were still lots of cop cars and officers standing around, more than she would have expected from a simple fender-bender.
Well, not her circus, not her monkeys.
By the time she got home, her nerves were a jangled mess, so she poured herself a stemless glass of cab and then stuck her head in the refrigerator, trying to figure out what she should have to eat that night. Nothing looked all that appealing, although she supposed she could put something together with the leftover rotisserie chicken she’d gotten at the grocery store over the weekend, maybe with some pasta to make it feel a little more filling.
So, dinner was settled, but she still hadn’t decided what to do about Robert Hendricks.
What if she told him she’d detected something but hadn’t been able to get any real details on what it was or where it had gone after it left the casino? That might be better than not saying anything at all, although she didn’t much like the idea of having to lie to him.
And Caleb was her client in every legal sense of the word, meaning there was a good argument for keeping her mouth shut.
Damn it.
There didn’t seem to be an easy solution to the problem…except the most obvious one.
