Page 60 of Life Or Death

“Does it matter?” I counter. “What matters is that you’re drowning, Tori. And I’m sitting here doing nothing while you work yourself to death.”

“I have it under control,” she says, her voice clipped. She snatches the bills off the counter and shoves them back into the cabinet, slamming the door shut. “I’ve made arrangements for payment plans. Everything is being taken care of.”

“Okay, then we’ll get them paid faster if I’m contributing.” I cross my arms, frustration bubbling up. “I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal of this.”

Tori turns to face me fully, her eyes blazing. “He’s not a good guy, Jess.”

“You didn’t seem to care when you handed that check over so he could forge my name on a marriage certificate.”

Tori’s jaw tightens, and she takes a step back from the counter as if I’ve physically pushed her.

“You could’ve died,” she says, her voice dropping to a low. “I did what I had to do, and I’m not sorry I did it.”

The silence that follows is deafening. I don’t want to fight with her.

“Tori—”

“No.” She holds up a hand, cutting me off. “Don’t you dare stand there and throw that in my face. You were in a coma. You had severe burns covering your body.” Her eyes glisten, and she blinks rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. “You needed insurance, and he was the only way you were going to get it.”

The kitchen feels smaller, the air thick and suffocating.

“I know,” I whisper.

“Then stop acting like I betrayed you.” She wraps her arms around herself, her shoulders curling inward. “I’m just looking out for you.” Her eyes move to my neck, and I realize then that my hair had moved behind my shoulder, revealing one of the hickeys. I flip my hair forward, trying to cover it, but it’s too late. “I’m guessing that came from him too.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I feel the telltale flush spreading down my neck. “It’s not a big deal.”

Tori cocks her head to the side, her arms crossing over her chest as she quirks one brow.

“The fact that you think that is probably even more alarming than you working for him.”

The doorbell rings, cutting through the tension. Both of us turn toward the door, and my stomach flutters with a nervous energy that has nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with the man standing on the other side of that door.

“That’s him,” I say quietly.

Tori sighs, her shoulders slumping as the fight drains out of her. She uncrosses her arms and presses her palms flat against the counter, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“I hope to God you know what you’re doing, Jess.”

“I’ll be fine,” I tell her, even though I’m not entirely sure I believe it myself.

Tori doesn’t respond. She just picks up her coffee and walks out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with the echo of the doorbell and the rapid thudding of my heart.

Lucifer looks so out of place in this truck. Every time I glance at him, my brain short-circuits. The president of the Fallen Demons—a man who probably bleeds motor oil and breathes exhaust fumes—driving a pickup like some suburban dad running errands. It’s comical really.

“You’re staring.”

His voice cuts through my thoughts, low and amused.

I don’t bother denying it. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day the president of the Fallen Demons swaps his Harley in exchange for a Dodge Ram.” I pull my phone from my pocket and hold it up, pretending to take a picture. “I feel like I should be documenting this.”

His lips quirk, that half-smile that does something dangerous to my insides. “See the things I do for you?”

My stomach flutters, a warm rush spreading through my chest. I’m sure it’s meant to be a joke, but there is some truth behind those words, isn’t there?

I pocket my phone and press my lips together. My gaze slides to the window, and I take in the sights as we make our way into town.

“Wasn’t sure if riding was a good idea,” he says finally, his eyes still on the road. “Considering your legs are still healing.”