"My office. Ten minutes."
"Dad? Dad!" Finn realized his father had disconnected the call. "Damn it." He shoved his phone back into his pocket. He could blow off his dad, but if he did he had no doubt that the old devil would find him, or send some of his goons. "Damn it," he muttered again, and threw a leg over the seat of his motorcycle. One day he'd be free from his father's power to dictate his every move. As soon as he could find something to use as leverage, he'd be out from beneath the king of demons' tyranny.
Until then, though … With a scowl he started the motorcycle and pulled away from the curb. The sooner he got this over with, the better.
He headed his bike down Scottsdale Avenue toward the office building where the leader of demons in the region conducted his many businesses, legitimate and otherwise. He was just crafty enough not to get caught by the authorities. Finn had a lot to do with that as his father's enforcer. When a demon stepped too far out of line-and Lucifer was actually pretty lenient-Finn was the one sent to dispense justice. Which wasn't always quick, or painless.
Or neat.
But he got the job done because somehow in all the mess that was the preternatural community, being the son of the devil evidently meant he'd been born into indentured servitude.
Finn stopped at a traffic light and glanced at the car that pulled to a halt in the next lane. Flirty smiles on their faces, two of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen looked at him with invitation in their eyes. He didn't get even a single twitch of interest from his body. He blew out a sigh and looked at the light. When a demon could look at two succubi and feel nothing, something was wrong. Really, really wrong.
The light switched to green and he took off, nearly burning a swath of rubber in his hurry to get away from them. When he reached his father's office building Finn drove up onto the sidewalk and brought his bike to a stop by the front door. He heeled down the kick stand and swung his leg over the seat. As he went through the automatic doors he tipped his head at the security guys at the front desk. "Fellas," he greeted.
"You should move that before your father sees it." The guard gestured toward the motorcycle.
Finn merely grinned. If Lucifer had a problem with where he path pedrked his ride, the old man could tell him to get lost. Finn would happily do so.
He took the elevator to the top floor, getting off at the penthouse suite. He crossed the inlaid wood foyer, his boots thumping over the expensive flooring, and went straight into his father's no-less than opulent office. "The master calleth?" he asked and flung himself down in one of the leather chairs across from Lucifer's desk.
"I did." Lucifer looked away from the bank of security monitors on the wall and leaned back in his chair. His dark eyes held Finn's. His youthful face, making him appear to be in his early forties when in reality he'd been on Earth for over seven thousand years, belied the fact that he had a son as old as Finn.
Not that Finn looked old. He wasn't vain, but he knew he looked good for his age, roughly thirty-five or so.
His father shook his head and gestured toward the monitors. "Don't think that parking your motorcycle right in front of the building is enough to cause me to release you from your … obligations."
"Obligations? Is that what my job is called?" Finn crossed his legs, resting one ankle on top of the opposite knee. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. "How is it that just by virtue of being your son I'm automatically at your beck and call forever?" He held his father's dark gaze. "Seriously, I've been doing this for almost three thousand years. Don't you have another son you can foist this job on, make him miserable for a while?"
"Miserable. Really?" Lucifer frowned, the action barely causing wrinkles to form.
Finn folded his arms over his chest. "We've talked about this before. I want to do something more. I want to be something more."
"Is that so?" From the tone of Lucifer's voice, it was clear he didn't give a damn. "Well, no matter. I have another job for you."
No matter? Finn slouched in his chair. "And if I say no?"
"Don't turn it down before we've had a chance to tell you about it." Lucifer pressed a button on his desk and Finn heard the elevator start up.
"We?" Finn twisted around as the elevator doors pinged open. He frowned at the vampire who stepped into the foyer.
"Tobias, come in," Lucifer said, getting to his feet. The two men shook hands and the vampire took the chair next to Finn.
"What's this all about?" Finn asked as Lucifer sat back down.
A former liaison to the Council of Preternaturals, Tobias Caine was now a council member. He shifted in his seat to look at Finn. "We're looking at statistics taken over the years to determine the breakdown of preternaturals who come through the rift opened by the Moore-Creasy-Devon comet," Caine said. "It's apparent that out of all the pret clans, demons have the smallest representation."
"So?" Finn frowned. "There are fewer of us than other prets. We can hold our own."
"For how long?" Lucifer leaned his elbows on the desk. "Every seventy-three years, when the comet opens the rift between dimensions, fewer demons come through than any other preternatural. Century after century this occurs. In another few hundred years we could very well be nearly extinct."
"Can't we just procreate the old fashioned way?" Finn wasn't sure what the fuss was all about. Preternaturals didn't just happen because they came through the rift and took over bodies of human hosts. "That's how I got here, after all."
"Demon women would have to be perpetually pregnant to make any headway," Caine said dryly.
"The only way preternaturals keep the community somewhat at peace is because there is a balance between all groups. As soon as one grouon dryly. p becomes more powerful than the others, there will be a fight for control," Lucifer added.
"I've never been much of a big picture kind of guy," Finn said. "You might need to explain why you're acting like this is my problem."
"Because, son, it's my problem. Therefore, it's yours, too."
Finn blew out a sigh. Since this wasn't something that involved another demon directly, Finn's skills as an enforcer weren't being called upon. Which meant he could refuse it. "Sorry," he said, not meaning a bit of it. "Whatever it is you're wanting me to do, I'll pass." He wanted to get away from doing his father's bidding, not do more of it.
"You can't refuse to help, Finn." Lucifer crossed his arms and glowered at his son.
"Are you asking me to hunt down a demon who's been attacking humans or other prets?"
"Not exactly."
"Then I believe I can refuse. And I do."
"Look, I know you've never looked out for anyone but yourself, and you do a hell of a job at it, but we need you on this one," Caine said.
"You're such a sweet talker," Finn muttered. "I have one question: What's in it for me?"
Caine's scowl mirrored Lucifer's. He muttered a curse. "Cut the crap, Finn. You're not as much of a loner as you make out. Listen to your conscience." Caine pressed his lips together. "And if that doesn't work, I'll give you half a mill to do it."
"To do what, exactly?" It had to be something good for Caine to toss around that kind of money.
The vampire shared a glance with Lucifer, then said, "We want you to infiltrate a rogue group. We think they're planning … something for the next Influx."
The next influx of preternaturals through the rift was due in three months. That didn't give him a lot of time to go undercover.
"We figure your reputation will speak for itself," Caine added.
"The thing is … " Finn stretched his legs out in front of him and clasped his hands across his stomach. "I don't need the money. I've got plenty."
"Two million." This from Lucifer.
And it cut. Since when had Finn ever done anything he'd been asked to because of the paycheck? He might be a lot of things, but mercenary wasn't one of them. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. "I don't need the money," he repeated.
"Three million."
Finn folded his arms over his chest and thought about it. Oh, not about the money. He'd been truthful when he said he didn't need it. He had more money than he could spend in a hundred years. Or more. But there was something he'd been wanting, something that had been just out of his reach for so long … He really couldn't care less about what happened with the rift, but he would like to be his own man for once. Do what he wanted when he wanted instead of having to ask permission from his boss, who also happened to be his father and the leader of the demon enclave in the region.
He'd never felt like he'd measured up to Lucifer's expectations, and about five hundred years ago he'd given up trying. He did his job well because that was the kind of guy he was-you do the job you're hired to do regardless of the pay. And now he didn't care if good ol' dad was proud of him or not.
At least, that's what he told himself. And perhaps if he kept telling himself that eventually he'd believe it.
But for the chance to be his own boss … He'd been tossing around the idea of running a private security firm, one that would cater to the rich and powerful-both preternatural and human-and this might just be his chance.