she’d thought he meant himself — she did want him, always — but a quick glance at him in the mirror revealed that his eyes didn’t blaze with the heat that had become so familiar to her. He was solemn and serious, staring at a spot somewhere over her shoulder.
“What are you talking about?”
Without shifting a muscle, he said, “I have the power to protect Megan,” as if he was suggesting she pick up some milk on the way home instead of dangling the answer to her problem in front of her face.
Her hand fisted around the eyeliner she still held. She was dressing for battle. Her best suit and power heels. Perfect makeup and hair.
Deliberately settling the pencil back onto the sink, she tried to catch Brone’s eye in the mirror, but he wouldn’t look at her.
“What do you mean you have the power to protect her? How?”
“Well, that’s not precisely true. You have the power to protect her. With my help. I can get an…agreement. A guarantee for Monroe’s conviction. You wouldn’t just be protecting your own daughter, but other children.”
Evie swallowed hard. “I never told you who was threatening my daughter.”
His mouth twisted into a wry grimace, but he didn’t answer.
She played his words back through her mind. Lawyers were good with words. She could equivocate and split hairs with the best of them. She recognized half-truths when she heard them.
Brone wasn’t offering to protect her daughter because they were lovers and he felt something for her. He wanted something in return.
And considering her suspicions that he wasn’t fighting on the side of good and light…
She barely thought. There really wasn’t a decision to make. If Brone knew of a way to protect Megan, then she’d take it, no matter the cost. Her daughter’s life, innocence and happiness were more important than anything else.
“How? What do I have to do?”
Finally he looked at her, but the expression in his eyes wasn’t what she’d expected. Stark and bleak. He didn’t want to say whatever came next.
“Sell your soul to the devil.”
Brone didn’t drop his gaze or look away. He stared deep into her and waited — for her reaction, her condemnation, her struggle. But there wasn’t one. How could there be?
And that was probably why he’d been reluctant to give her the choice. Because even he realized there wasn’t one.
“All right.”
“You know better than to agree to a contract without reading every word first.”
True, but it wasn’t like they would really matter. Something told her Lucifer didn’t negotiate.
“Fine. Read me the fine print.”
Holding out his hand, a single page appeared, stretching across his palm. Moving forward, Evie looked down at it but didn’t touch. The paper was old, tattered at the edges and stained a pale brown. Brone shifted, and it crinkled.
The terms were straightforward. In exchange for ensuring Monroe Stilton’s conviction on eight counts of child molestation and eight counts of kidnapping, he would receive life in prison…and would die there. She really didn’t want to know how they would ensure that. What if he tried to escape? Would they maneuver things to kill him? Did she really care?
As long as the monster could never hurt another child…could never hurt Megan.
She was allowed to live out the rest of her life, however long that might be. She’d watch Megan grow up, be there for all the important moments. She’d continue her work to get the bad guys off the streets. But at the end of her life she’d go to Hell and become whatever Lucifer wanted.
Evie tried to envision Hell but couldn’t come up with anything besides the childhood tales that had been told to her. Fiery pits, despair, desolation…
“What’s it like?” she asked, slowly bringing her gaze up to match Brone’s. “Hell, what’s it like?”
He flinched, which didn’t exactly give her hope. Brone was big and powerful and dangerous. Instinctively she knew he’d be ruthless in