Page 8 of Hell’s Half Acre

If only. “Too late. I was driven there long before this and dumped on the side of the road with a head injury. Why else would I have ever dated Bert?” She shivered visibly.

Laughing, Luke pulled them through the open gates where several police cars and an ambulance were waiting. His butter-colored lights illuminated the scene. An officer motioned for them to stop.

Luke pulled out his badge as the cop shined his light in their faces.

Until he caught Luke’s terrifying glare.

Visibly shaken, the cop quickly put the light on their IDs.

After verifying they were legit, the cop pointed them over toward the ambulance on the left where they could park.

Sorcha scowled, blinking the residual light rings from her eyes. “How is there a police officer on the force who doesn’t know you or this car on sight?”

Luke shrugged before he turned the engine off. “I don’t play poker with all of them.”

That was something he’d never admitted to before. She unbuckled her seatbelt but made no move to exit the car. “Seriously?”

“Oh yeah. Where do you think I vanish to on Friday nights?”

“I would say that I can’t see you playing poker with a bunch of cops, but for some reason…” It was on brand. She could easily imagine him gambling. It would be right up there with his other habits and vices. “You ever bet a soul?”

“Not since my banishment. Back in the day… I lived for a desperate idiot or greedy son of a bitch. Usually the latter. There was always someone willing to give up their soul for next to nothing. But my favorite was trading souls in Hell with demons I hated.”

“What do you mean?”

Helly stood up in the car. “Lucifer’s generals trade souls like Pokémon cards. They get bored torturing the same people all the time, so they trade them out to refresh the hellacious torments.”

Sorcha was aghast at the thought. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Of course, I did. I needed someone to wash my underwear.”

Thanks to an intimate encounter with Luke that she couldn’t get out of her mind, Sorcha knew better than that. “You don’t wear underwear.”

“In Hell I do. Any idea how much leather chafes in that heat? I always have silk boxers on to keep the boys happy and breathing.”

And that was definitely an image she didn’t want in her mind. He was one of the few men who could make boxers sexy. “This is another conversation HR would have your ass over, you know.”

“Good thing there’s no HR in IA.” He winked at her.

He was so incorrigible. She’d be offended if he wasn’t so incredibly charming.

Helly climbed out of the car over the trunk, then opened the door for Sorcha. “Don’t worry. He only traded for the souls of those you want tortured in the worst ways imaginable.”

“Like Bert?” she couldn’t resist asking.

Luke got out and pulled the tie from his long hair so that it flowed around his shoulders. “Those who make your ex look like an honest, upstanding citizen…and yes, I’d take Bert out for a spin, given what he did to you. He could use a little attitude adjustment. I hope I’m back in Hell when his number comes up. We gonna have a good old time.”

Sorcha cleared her throat. “Now, now. You know how I feel about that. If anyone’s going to torture that bastard, it needs to be me. I’ve earned the right.”

Laughing, Luke headed to where the others were gathered.

Helly leaned against her. “The one thing he doesn’t want you to know is that he’d also trade for those who didn’t deserve what the others gave them. There are borderline souls in Hell who were damned on technicalities. To his father’s extreme fury, Luke often spared them.”

That tracked. For a prince of Hell, Luke didn’t like to see anyone innocent suffer. It was what made him such a great detective.

It was also the same code of honor that demanded punishment for those who did wrong…

That kept him up at night as much as it did her. His hellhound genes came out on steroids and made him track down guilty parties. He didn’t rest until they paid for what they did.