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Nope. “Who could forget the Devil’s baritone?”
He didn’t take offense. A laugh drifted down the line.
“Your trailer is ready in Chicago, but you’re not in it. I thought I’d call. I was…worried.”
Sure, he was.
“I popped out,” I lied.
“Where?” the Devil quizzed. He already fucking knew.
“To see a friend.”
“That friend someone I know?”
“Fuck knows. You know a lot of people.” All of them scumbags or unfortunate bastards.
“Tell me, I’m wrong, Remington. Tell me, you are not in Texas, sniffing around one of my fucking sales.”
How the fuck did he know these things? Sure, I made jokes about him being the Devil, and the fucker did have power, but he didn’t have magical abilities. And he didn’t have a tracker in my neck like he did so many other people—like Cat, which was how I’d found her.
“I’m not in Texas—”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I suppose your fans are lying then?”
The longest second ever passed between us.
“You forget, boy, you cannot go anywhere unnoticed. You think a hood will hide you? I suggest you start dipping your head a little further or drinking through a fucking straw when you get your coffee order because these girls know every fucking curve of your lips, the angle of your jaw when you so much as breathe. You cannot hide in this world, and it’s so easy to track your every move.”
“And yet you think I’m in Texas.”
“Pinetree Verge Manor.” He recited Cedric’s address. “And yet you still lie to me?”
I didn’t respond.
“Fans are going crazy that you’re in the state. I put word out for an intimate gig. It starts in twenty minutes at the Empire.”
“I don’t know where the fuck that is, and Daniel is in Chicago. You’ll have to cancel.”
“No need. I can pick you up from Mr. Beaumont’s house. Now.”
The hallway brightened as car lights slowed on the dirt road outside.
The Devil was here.
“Don’t make me come in there.”
I couldn’t hang around.
I spent a second at her open door, lingering in the dark, double-checking that her photo was still wedged in my jeans pocket. She turned, seeing no more than my shadow as she sat up in bed, the sheets pulled to her throat.
The creaky stairs gave me away—me, an invader…not Remington Cole.
“Hello?” she called out, and her voice sent shivers down my spine, all making their way to my cock.
