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Maddox gave me a look.
I waved my hand, dismissing. “Not you, Mr. Navy Seal,” I rolled my eyes, muttering.
“Marine Corp.” Maddox corrected, lifting his coffee to his lips. His smile was hidden behind the rim of his mug.
“Apologies.” My smile was fake as shit. I turned to Fletcher, who was wrist-deep in a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos at eight in the morning. “The bag isn’t even crinkling!” I pointed out.
Fletcher sucked the red dust from his thumb with a grin. “Skillz.”
“Is there a reason you’re all up? Is there some mass casualty that requires Nevada’s finest Reapers?” I put my hands on my hips.
Rome took the fresh coffee from the machine and sauntered around the island. He gripped the body of the mug and extended the handle towards me before turning back to the island and leaning against it. All without saying a word.
I looked down at the coffee. He’d made me a Caramel Maccioto.
I bit back a gushy smile, and I took a sip.
Yum.
“We’ve got a lock on a contracted soul. We’re going to head into Beatty. It’s outside of Death Valley National Park.” Jamal’s chin rested on his hand. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind his ebony eyes. Did he know about Rome and me?
Fletcher screwed the finished bag of Cheetos into a ball and fired his trash towards the open can on the other side of the kitchen. He made the shot. “The guy traded his soul for knowledge, so he’s gotta know something. If not, we’ll figure out some kind of witness protection.”
“Rome mentioned that a lot of the people with soul contracts have died,” I asked cautiously. “Are all the deaths being attributed to thePin Prick killer? It’s got to be hundreds of people?”
“That was just you and that guy Antwan. He was killed the day before you. That’s why they linked the stories.” Jamal straightened. “Your death was very public, and we think someone leaked the idea of a human killer to throw them off the idea of demons in Las Vegas.”
“If anything, you’d think that most people already think Las Vegas is full of sinners and demons.” Fletcher snorted. “I think we should go in two cars. I’m not sure I can fit next to Captain Shoulders.”
Maddox gave him a look. “I’m driving. The gear stick allows more than enough room for my shoulders.”
“I was being nice.” Fletcher’s eyes rounded. “I don’t want to listen to Doris Day, and I wanna control the AUX.”
I caught Jamal’s gaze. “Doris Day?” I mouthed.
Jamal nodded to confirm, his teeth a flash before his smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
I looked away but made a point to chat with Jamal later.
I dressed and showered quickly. My stomach rumbled, and I thoroughly planned on choosing Fletcher’s car—mainly because he would have snacks or at the very least would let me stop at the drive-thru.
Plus, no Doris Day was a good day.
Two cars sat on the driveway in front of the garage. One was the mustard yellow Camaro that we had driven the day before. The other was a midnight black Toyota that was too large to be anything other than an overcompensation.
I couldn’t even tell if the beast was a pick-up truck or a tank.
I pulled my sunglasses away from my face as Fletcher’s head popped out from the driver's side window.
He was wearing a pair of cat ears.
He looked utterly cute but utterly ridiculous.
Maddox and Jamal were having a conversation in hushed tones at the end of the driveway. I half expected them to make a comment about Fletcher’s headpiece. Still, when both men noticed my appearance on the path, they waved before turning back to their conversation.
I pressed my lips together, unable to shake the feeling that something was off. Maddox and Jamal didn’t strike as people that fought often. While Maddox could drive anyone to murder, Jamal was a chameleon, laid back, and highly adaptable. If Jamal was worried, there was something to worry about.
Fletcher waved me over, and I crossed the path and the grass to get to the driveway. Before I could say a word, Fletcher ducked inside the car and pulled out a travel mug.
