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Lucifer said nothing for a long minute. In the pit, there was the sound of a cracking whip and a piercing scream.
“You and I both know there’s very little in life that interests me,” Lucifer drawled. “Everything is so fleeting.” He gestured to the TV screen as a whip sliced a man’s face open. “Tonight, I would enjoy my friend’s show and I could fight you, but then it’s over like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And then I’m bored again.”
It took every ounce of his control not to grab Lucifer by the throat and throttle him. He didn’t have time for Lucifer’s sociopathic ramblings, but he held all the cards. Lucifer held the key to two things Gavin needed: Lyla and the Phantom’s identity. Fuck.
“I’m looking for an arrangement with more longevity,” Lucifer said.
He ignored the chill that ran down his spine. “Which is?”
“I’ve always had a soft spot for you, Gavin. We have a lot in common. We were both raised in Hell. You part time, of course. I can’t deny I’m happy to see you home. This is where you belong.”
There was no point in arguing with Lucifer, so he said nothing. Angel and Blade were very still on either side of him. They were all waiting for the axe to fall.
“I call you into Hell, and you walk in as if you own the place in a fucking suit, knowing that alone is enough to make men want your head.” Lucifer grinned. “Fuck. I have your wife, your Achilles’ heel, and you come in stone cold. He wanted you on your knees, but you’ll never give in.” Lucifer shook his head. “Fuck, Gavin, I’ve missed sparring with you.”
“What do you want, Lucifer?”
“What do you think about being my sidekick?”
His beast slipped the chain. He leaned forward. Wood crackled as he sank his brass knuckles an inch into the table. “Not gonna happen. What do you want?”
Lucifer drummed his fingers. “For starters, I want a good show.”
“A good show,” he repeated flatly. Lucifer’s idea of a show was to watch someone dismember a body piece by piece.
“My friend and I go way back. Not as far as you and I, but still... He keeps in touch and brings me gifts, unlike you.”
He couldn’t imagine what kind of ‘gifts’ Lucifer enjoyed. Lucifer had been born in Hell and had seen and done things that made his stomach churn.
Blade stepped forward. “You want a show?”
Lucifer’s eyes glinted with bloodlust. “Always.”
“Then we’ll give you one,” Blade decreed. “All of us will fight.”
Lucifer eyed them each in turn, weighing what he knew of their combat skills.
“I want more,” Lucifer said, and shifted his focus back to Gavin. “Why did you stop coming to Hell?”
“What?”
“You used to come once a month. You took on as many men as you could in an hour and then left, calm as you please. Then one night you show up, challenge me, beat me, don’t kill me, and never return. What changed?”
Lucifer might not have normal emotions like compassion or fear, but he possessed a healthy dose of curiosity. Although Lucifer wore an indifferent expression, his eyes were anything but.
“I found a reason to live.” Like the women he used, Hell was another outlet. When Lyla left, it changed everything. He didn’t realize he loved her until she disappeared. Finding out what happened to her became an obsession, a drive that overrode his destructive demon. The fight with Lucifer was the last time he’d indulged himself and then he went cold until he got her back.
Lucifer’s lip curled into a sneer. “And you live for your wife?”
Blade shifted. “Lyla’s special.”
“There’s no such thing as a special woman.”
“You must have heard about her body count. It’s pretty impressive.”
Lucifer waved a hand. “She ran over some guys with a car and shot a couple of morons. Big deal.”
“She killed her father.”
