Slumped and panting, she pressed her face against the wood, mournful sounds pouring from her.
His gut hurt. He wished music boomed in here to drown out her despair, or that she’d accept the inescapable and would somehow enjoy it. “I didn’t lie. That is the outside.” Everything else was an illusion created to make the time down here seem better. Sort of like taking the blue pill in The Matrix to maintain the fantasy.
She rolled her forehead over the door.
He wasn’t certain what to say. Barking orders seemed crueler than he wanted. Comforting her wasn’t an option. She’d chosen this future, given that free will crap the devout liked to spew. “You must really love your sister to have agreed to this.” An intense emotion he shouldn’t envy but did.
She placed her arm on the wood and rested her cheek against it. “Yeah, I do. Holly’s the only family I have.”
That part hadn’t been in her background check or contract. “What happened to your parents? Are they still alive?”
She lifted her shoulders.
“You don’t know?” He couldn’t imagine how such a thing was possible. If he’d had a mother and father he would have kept them close, hoping the blood bond would encourage them to protect him from bad crap on Earth and everywhere else. “Do they know what happened to you? That you’re, uh, down…”
“They don’t care. They never did.” She picked at the wood. “My father cut out shortly after Holly was born. My mother didn’t want to raise two kids on her own, so she turned us over to foster care.” She shrugged. “We never saw her after that. Holly doesn’t even remember her.”
“Do you?”
She dug her thumbnail deeper into the wood. “Only flashes. Playing with her lipstick. Sitting on her lap as she watched TV. Her soapy fragrance. Stuff like that.”
Her voice shook.
No one had to tell him she still missed the woman. Asking if she felt the same about her sister wasn’t something he could or should do. When it came to other females slated for Hard Lust, he’d simply escorted them to the study area, like he was doing with her now. Before he split, most came on to him, which was fun. Not being a saint, he’d humped them and then returned to his work, no worse for wear. “We have to go.”
“Yay.”
Her mocking tone didn’t sit well, but he chose to ignore it. “Don’t forget your handbook.”
“Only when Hell freezes over.”
Grief was one thing. Constant back talk another. He pointed. “Get it. Now.”
“Yes sir.” As she lifted the volume to her chest, she huffed.
It wasn’t that heavy. “Follow me.”
The outside door opened behind them.
She stopped and looked over.
A young woman stepped inside, her eyes raccoon-like from dark makeup. Neon-blue highlights streaked her black hair. Her pasty complexion, clothing, and facial piercings further marked her as a Goth.
She glanced their way, then disappeared into the office to meet Andros and Racan.
Megan gestured to where she’d been. “What’s her story?”
“Cut up a rival for making a move on a guy she liked. The dude’s never going to be the same.”
“The guy she wanted?”
“The rival.”
Another young woman arrived. Given her grubby jeans, leather vest, bandana, and gang tats, he would bet she’d been a biker in an outlaw group.
The second she entered the office, a new female took her place, this one dressed demurely—her skirt well below her knees, her blouse buttoned to her throat, no makeup whatsoever on her face.
Megan bumped his arm. “She’s in the wrong place, right?”
“Nope. She poisoned her husband so she and the guy who ran the church office could be together. They were plotting his wife’s murder when a collision on the freeway flattened her.”
Ms. Black Widow vanished into the office, too.
Megan looked at him. “Do you guys ever get men down here?”
He shook his head. Having nothing except female condemned was a feature, not a bug, and a perk he wouldn’t give up without a fight. “Let’s go. Your time’s running out.”
She trotted to keep up with him. “My half hour started already?”
He stopped. “Twenty minutes.” He jabbed his finger at her. “You heard what Racan said. Don’t try to put anything over on us, because you can’t. Got it? Or would you care to try for fifteen minutes? Possibly less?”
Her lower lip trembled. “Why are you being so mean? You’re not that way really. You seem like a nice guy.”
He stepped back and bumped into the wall. “Guy?”
She flicked her wrist. “Demon. Devil. Entity. Whatever.”
“Try fallen angel.”
Her mouth rounded. “Get out. You started up there?” She pointed toward Heaven. “I knew it. You are a good man.”
Attila the Hun and Vlad the Impaler were certainly worse than he’d ever been, but he wasn’t as great as she thought. “There’s something you should know.” He tapped her chin. “I am not a good man.”
“Demon then. And yeah, you are.” She stroked his tat.
His gums tingled.
“What happened in Heaven? How’d you get down here?”
Bethshiba. His, Andros, and Racan’s crime hadn’t been that bad. They’d simply wanted to be heard and considered. Instead, they had received the ultimate sentence—banishment. “The reason isn’t important. This is.” He touched the handbook. “You need to learn everything you can. There isn’t much time.”
She screwed up her mouth. “I thought I was here for eternity.”
“Do you ever stop arguing?”
“I will, I swear. On one condition.”
He held back laughter at her gall. “On one what?”
“Help me, please. Show me the way out of here. At the least, get me an audience with Satan so I can plead my case.”
Poor girl was losing it. “Begging doesn’t work down here. With him or me. We need to go.”
“Not yet.” She pressed closer to stop him from leaving, her nipples poking his pecs, her cunt smack against his groin.
Heat rose between them, unmasked desire sparking in her eyes.
His knees sagged. Her musk and the scent from his leather pants mingled to create one fucking great fragrance.