I was in the passenger seat of the Devil’s car, and I wasn’t wearing a butt plug. That was an improvement. On the other hand, the Devil was in the driver’s seat, looking vaguely attractive without even trying to, so at best it was a mixed bag.

“Babe, you’re staring at me.”

I turned away and looked out the passenger window. “Nope. I was looking…at that bagel shop. See? They have bagels.”

Lucifer sighed, reached over the middle console, and put his big warm hand on my knee. “It’s okay, Nelly. I’m here. If things get bad, you can hold on to me. If you want me to turn the car around, just say the word. No one can blame you for taking care of yourself first. It’s like what those humans in the sexy uniforms tell you when you get on an airplane, put a mask on yourself first, then get to any screaming children when you find the time.”

“That’s not—I don’t have PTSD!”

Yeah, the PTSD thing had become a thing. It had completely replaced his amnesia obsession, and it was about as annoying. I didn’t suffer from amnesia then, and I wasn’t suffering from PTSD now. Yes, I’d been in a basement against my will two days ago, and yes, it had been…unpleasant, but I was fine. I was a professional necromancer and police consultant after all. I could handle this.

“It’s fine, Nelly. This is a safe space.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, fuck you, Lucy.”

He looked away from the road and right at me. “It’s the other way around, always. Remember, I told you.” He paused. “You do remember, don’t you?”

So much for getting over the amnesia.

#

Lucifer pulled into the police parking lot a few minutes later. His hand was still on my knee. The moment he was about done parking, I unbuckled, opened the door, and escaped his annoyingly warm and comforting hand.

“Wait here. I won’t be long.”

He leaned over, his aquamarine eyes wide. “You want me to wait in the car?”

“Yup. Yes. Be right back.”

I closed the door and speedwalked to the entrance. Maybe I could…get some work done while I was here. I knew I was on leave, technically, but that didn’t mean I needed to hole up at home, which didn’t seem to be an option right now anyway, given that Lucifer had threatened to come home with me if I left his big-ass mansion of a house.

Given that my apartment wasn’t all that spacious, certainly not large enough to hold the Devil’s ego, I’d grudgingly agreed to stay at his place. Trony’s food had made that decision a lot more bearable. She’d made strawberry tarts the other day, and those were exceptional. She’d said it was a test bake for Halloween, though giving those tarts to trick-or-treaters seemed like a bit of a waste.

I made my way up taking the elevator, and from there, I walked the hallways that led to the homicide unit, nodding to the detectives and uniformed officers I recognized. That helped with the sense of tension that was forming in the pit of my stomach. The place was familiar, the floor slightly squeaky under my feet, the familiar offices, that one flickering light fixture before I turned right toward our unit. I was fine—nothing really bad had happened to me after all—but still, Extremely-Unsexy Mitch had worked here. Only a week ago, I might’ve run into him here.

I opened the glass doors to the homicide unit, taking in the familiar setup, the desks and detectives working today. I heard people typing, people making phone calls. In the distance, the copy machine was running.

Christine wasn’t in her private office at the far end but instead leaning over Albright, who was showing her something on the computer screen in front of him. She looked up when she saw me come in.

“Hawkes.” She clapped Albright on the shoulder and walked away from his desk to greet me. “You’re on leave. Did no one tell you you were on leave?”

“I got the message from that Internal Affairs person, but I thought you still need my statement. It said you still need my statement.”

She grumbled under her breath, moved to run a hand through her hair, her fingers getting stuck in the messy bun she’d forced her hair into. She’d probably been here too long if she didn’t remember her hair was up. That meant Mitch’s basement had been…bad. Which I pretty much guessed, but…yeah. He’d been a psycho killer, not the technical term, but fair.

“You could’ve just sent an email or called. It’s not like there’s any questions left in this case, and I doubt Lewis is going to make it to trial.”

I cocked my head. “Lewis?”

She gave me a look. It reminded me of that one elementary school teacher who’d seen me raise a dead bird. “Detective Mitch Lewis. Who drugged and abducted you, who chained you up in his basement rental.”

“Oh. Right. I, uh. I knew his last name. he’s not doing well, huh?”

Was I happy about that? Maybe. Then again, he’d hurt Soul right when she’d given him her cursed bite, and I wasn’t happy about that even if she was doing well. Yes, he was a real fucking psycho killer who would hurt a cute, innocent dog. Whose bite could kill, but still.

Christine crossed her arms. “No, he’s not. You should go home, Hawkes. I can—Albright can drive you.”

Albright looked up from whatever he’d been doing. It probably was about the case, the case Soul’s cursed bite was taking care of in such an effective manner.

I shook my head. “I’m fine. Let me just type up my report real quick, and then I’ll leave. Unless there’s anything you need, anything for the victims?”

Christine narrowed her eyes. “Hawkes, they’re not going to let me hear the end of it if you have a mental breakdown on the job. You haven’t even had your psych eval yet seeing as how we’re—well, you know.”

Dr. Lily. She’d been our shrink. From what I’d pieced together, she’d thought that Mitch was nice too, just like me, but unlike me, she hadn’t been as lucky.

I looked at my shoes. They were disturbingly clean. I had no idea how Trony did it.

“I’ll just write up the report then. I’m already here.”

She considered that. Albright glanced up over his screen. After a while, she nodded once.

“You type, then you leave. Everyone, no traumatizing Hawkes with any photographic material relating to any scene that relates to the Lewis case. Check your desks, make sure nothing’s out while he’s in.”

There was shuffling all over the unit. My head heated with embarrassment, not that Christine cared. She got back to what she was doing with Albright, and I found a workstation, as far away from everyone else as I could. I didn’t want to make them feel awkward around me, especially given that I was fine.

I got as far as typing, “I was waiting.” I didn’t know whether to include where I was waiting, and why I was waiting there. Disclosing details of my private life wasn’t really necessary, at least I didn’t think so.

I was still contemplating the details needed to explain the way I’d gotten into Ugly Mitch’s car like an idiot when I noticed some noise and excitement just outside the unit.

I looked up from the screen. “Fuck me.”

Right there on the other side of the glass was none other than the Devil his own damn self. Oh, he was being all smug again, and he had a big box in his arms, was chatting to a uniform who was blushing so hard I could see her freckles from where I was sitting, then opened the box, clearly talking her into grabbing what looked like a small cream cake with vanilla and chocolate frosting.

I watched her thank him although her eyes were communicating that she’d happily do more for him than take his cream, pun fully intended. But Lucifer didn’t linger. He headed toward the door. I tried hiding behind my screen, but just before he came into the unit, his eyes met mine.

My heart was pounding. The Devil was coming for me.