Page 23 of Hell’s Half Acre

Until she’d met Luke.

“You do know I can protect myself, right?” she asked, ignoring the fact that she’d almost been kidnapped by the Necos—she had Hellfire ammo now. She’d be fine.

“I can too, and yet I still have an imp just in case something comes at me that’s more than I can handle. Trust me, it happens to the best of us.”

She’d never thought about that before. And he was right. At six and a half feet tall, with muscles that didn’t quit, he would be formidable without his infernal powers.

And yet she’d personally seen him go down. As he noted, it wasn’t easy to overtake him.

But it wasn’t impossible either.

Everyone needed a hand from time to time.

“You win.” Playfully grumbling, she took the Glock from the cushions in one hand, the overnight bag in the other, and headed for his bedroom.

The moment she closed the door, she froze. She’d never been in here before. Never even seen it. He always kept his bedroom door closed. The only reason she knew the bathroom was small was from the times he’d complained about it not quite fitting his gargantuan size.

But the minute she closed the door, she could smell the leather and sweet smokiness of him. It surrounded her.

All of a sudden, this seemed really intimate. That was where Luke slept…

Most likely naked. A flush crawled up her neck and she glanced away, banishing images of him in that bed from her mind.

For some reason, she’d expected his bed to be as elaborate as his office. Something with heavy carved wood and gothic arches. Dark and, honestly, a little scary.

There was none of that. In fact, it seemed oddly normal.

Unlike his office, it was very modern. A California king bed in a minimalist frame that was pushed up against the red brick wall, covered by two exceptionally thick gray comforters and a heated blanket. Over his bed was a large picture of his car in black and white, parked beneath a Spanish moss-covered oak tree. Very Savannah.

Why was she even surprised?

“You really do love that car,” she said to herself.

Delilah should be ashamed, ruining it for him. It was a bitchy thing to do, and it said a lot about Luke that he took Delilah’s intrusion and attitude in stride.

The wall on her right was covered with a large-screen TV. On her left was an industrial rack that held his clothes.

All black except for a couple of white tees.

And next to the door was an electric fireplace which made her laugh. He really hated being cold. She didn’t know why she found that so adorable.

Trying not to think about it, or how sexy he would look naked in that bed, and failing miserably, she headed for the bathroom to start her nightly routine.

Sorcha let out an exasperated sigh. This was going to be a long night.

Luke paced his living room as thoughts whirled in his mind.

Bounty hunters were after Sorcha.

Why?

He glanced to Helly as she rolled to her side on his sofa. “Can I bother you, Imp?”

“Always.” She sat up instantly. “What do you need?”

That was what he loved most about her. She never denied him and it wasn’t because he was her master.

They were family. In all the universe, Helly was the only one who’d never harmed him. Never yelled or insulted.