Wanted: Undead or Alive

Triple-A Doesn't Cover That

I studied my hands, clenched together in my lap. Looking out the windows at the scenery flying by in a blur only added to the nausea I was trying to control. Looking at Nick left me all sorts of things. Even not looking at him wrecked me a little. In books, I'd read about a woman swooning over a man's musky scent, and all I could imagine was the stench of sweaty gym socks. But Nick smelled like the natural version of what Old Spice cologne tried to replicate. Something like soap and cinnamon and panty-melting pheromones.

If I squeezed hard enough, my middle knuckles turned white, but my little first knuckles got redder. Interesting. Just keep focusing on that.

"What?" Nick asked.

"What, what?" I replied like a dork.

"You 'hmmed.'"

"It's nothing." Not for all the money in the world would I have shared my thoughts just then. Oh, don't mind me. I'm just injuring my joints and observing the effects to distract myself from the urge to climb over the center console and ride you like a rodeo champion.

"Can you call Mx. Landry, please? See if they know what we're headed into."

Grateful for the distraction, I pulled my phone out and tapped the screen. Before I hit the call button, a question popped out of my mouth. "Is every night like this?"

He glanced at me, and I realized I was looking straight at him. A bead of sweat rolled from my hairline down the side of my face. 

"No."

When no further reply seemed forthcoming, I pried my gaze away and went ahead with the phone call. Because I was working. And that's what people at work do. They do work stuff. Like phone calls. They do not, under any circumstances, proposition their boss. Or, at least, they're not supposed to. But it wasn't illegal, right? Ethically gray, for sure but—

Mx. Landry answered on their end with a brusque, "Where are you?"

"Put it on speaker, please," Nick said. After I hit the button, he answered for me. "We were at a crossroads. Nine miles southeast of town. We're already enroute."

"Who'd you sacrifice?" They sounded more curious than concerned. Then, "Did it work? You've got Sathanas?"

"No one, obviously, and yes, it worked fine. It wasn't Sathanas we were after. I'll brief you later." He did a crazy-ass Tokyo drift off the dirt onto the paved country highway. "What happened to Benji?"

"Her car broke down."

"Excuse me?" Nick's foot eased up on the accelerator and we slowed from an insane speed to something merely recklessly excessive.

"Car trouble," Mx. Landry said. "You know the kind. Leaves you stuck on the side of the road."

"Tell her to call Triple-A for fuck's sake. We're busy."

"Not that kind of car trouble. Triple-A won't cover it."

Nick growled. I don't mean, he grumbled in a low voice. I mean, he literally growled like a pit bull in a dogfight, deep and terrifying. Lighting flashed in the clear sky overhead.

All the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I pressed my thighs together and focused on not peeing myself.

In a soft, dangerous voice, he asked them to provide more details.

"She's not sure, but she thinks the car might be possessed."

"Tell her to exorcise it," he said, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

"She says she tried. No luck. It's not her first day, Nick. If she says she's in trouble, it's not because of a flat tire."

Blue sparks from his eyes flashed in the dark. "We'll be there in fifteen minutes."