For a Few Demons More(56)

Breaking his stoic expression, he met my gaze levelly. “No, Ms. Morgan. The danger is real this time, so I respect your decision.”

Trent cleared his throat in a nonverbal rebuke, and I gave Quen a thankful nod. The security expert had enough clout to defy Trent if his reasonings were sound, and it made me feel good that someone could say no to him—though I doubted that it happened very often.

“Thanks,” I said, but instead of feeling relieved I only found myself more worried. “The danger is real this time”? Like it wasn’t last time I worked for Trent?

The moist heat and the sound of cicadas hit me when I got out, the old trees that blocked the sun serving to trap the moisture as well. I glanced across the street to Keasley’s house, hoping Trent and Quen would just leave. I didn’t like them being this close to Ceri. I didn’t know anything about elves. Hell, they might be able to smell each other if they got close enough.

I pulled my attention back to Trent as I hitched my bag higher and started for the church. There was a van at the curb, and I frowned at the sign proudly proclaiming WE SPECIALIZE IN EXORCISM. Great. Ju-u-u-u-ust great. Now the entire street knew we had a problem.

I spun when the sound of a car door closing thumped through the muggy air. Trent was out and was circling to the limo’s back. My blood pressure spiked. “I said no,” I repeated loudly.

“Having a problem with your church?” he asked, lifting the trunk when it popped open.

My lips pressed together, and I stood so I could see him and Ceri’s house both. I didn’t like this at all. “We had an incident. Look. I’m not doing it, so just leave, okay?” I felt like I was talking to a dog who had followed me home. Bad dog. Go home.

I boldly turned my back on him and, feeling the hair on the back of my neck prickle, strode to the stairs. Not wanting him to follow me in, I paused two steps down from the landing.

“Ten thousand for two nights,” Trent said, pulling two garment bags from the trunk.

“Your rehearsal is on my birthday. I have plans. Reservations at Carew Tower.” A thrill went through me at the admission. It was going to be a date to remember.

But Trent squinted, looking as if the heat couldn’t touch him. “Bring your date along.” He gently pushed the trunk’s lid down. The motor engaged and the trunk whined shut. Adjusting the garment bags over his arm, he came forward. The closer he got, the more nervous I became.

“You may have breakfast in the Carew Tower every Tuesday,” I said, “but I’ve never been up there, and I’m looking forward to it. I’m not asking my date to change it.”

“Thirty thousand. And I’ll get your reservations changed to whatever night you want.”

He was a step down, and his eyes were even with mine. “Everything is so easy for you, isn’t it?” I said, disgusted.

A tired, haunted look showed in his green eyes, and his hair shifted in the breeze to ruin his professional carriage. “No. It only looks that way.”

“Poor baby,” I muttered, and his jaw tightened. Carefully arranging his hair, he returned to his callous self.

“Rachel, I need your help,” he said with an irritated acceptance. “There’re going to be too many people, and I don’t want an ugly scene. Your being there might be enough to stop any trouble before it starts. You won’t be doing this alone. Quen has his entire staff—”

“I don’t work under anyone’s direction,” I said, my gut tightening as I looked past him to Ceri’s house. I wanted him gone. If she came out, everything would go to hell.

“They’d work around you,” he persuaded. “You’re there if something slips by them.”

“I don’t play well with others, and I run with loaded guns,” I said, taking a backward step up to distance myself from him. “Besides, Quen is better than me,” I said shortly as the wind mussed his hair again. “There’s no reason for me to be there.”

His free hand smoothed his bangs as he saw me look at it. “You sat in the front. Why?”

“Because I knew it would bother you.” The sound of unfamiliar voices in the sanctuary came out through the transom windows along the side of the church. I took another step up, and Trent stayed where he was, confident though I was now taller than him.

“That’s why I want you there,” he said. “You’re unpredictable, and that can be the difference between success and failure. Most people make decisions in anger, fear, love, or obligation. You make decisions to irritate people.”

“You’re just chalking up the points here, Trent.”