Dark Hope (The Devil's Assistant) (3 page)

The door creaked open, but was yanked closed before anyone came inside. “Don’t be stupid,” the European barked. “She ain’t worth it. Let it go.”

In a breathy wheeze, the man with the deep voice added, “The Godfather’s not going to allow it. He was pissed when she was hurt last time. He only wanted Johnny to scare her, not try to kill her.”

Oh, shit
. “The Druid King,” I whispered. Why would he care what Johnny did to me?

“You hear too much,” Frankie snarled. “Johnny knows what he’s doing, and once he gives the word, she’s mine.”

I brought my attention back to the room. I couldn’t stick around—I needed to get out of here.

Maneuvering to my back, I winced as I slammed my shoulder into a large crate. The jolt caused a small box, perched on the top of the stack, to fall forward. I rolled to miss the tumble of vegetables, but bumped up against a pair of shoes. I looked up. Frankie. The rigid edge to his face was gone. Now he was just pissed. I yelped when he kicked me in the gut.

A druid with dark brown hair wrenched Frankie away. “Enough,” he said.

I recognized him as the man with the heavy European accent.

The second man—I assumed the one with the deep voice—strode around the two. He yanked me to my feet.

Frankie jerked his arm from the European. “Bring her,” he commanded to the man holding me, before stomping away.

I was dragged into the restaurant’s main dining room, a bad Little Italy knock off with checkered red tablecloths and bottles of
Chianti
on every table. The place was empty, except for Johnny and his latest squeeze—a plump brunette wearing red lipstick and light blue eye shadow—a walking cliché.

The woman eyed me as the men brought me around. Johnny’s expression was nondescript. Aside from the vicious scar running along his right cheek, he appeared the same as he had five years ago
,
brown hair, brown eyes, brown suit. Not even the scar added anything interesting to his style. He was a druid—boring, plain—deadly.

“Who’s this, Johnny?” the brunette asked. Her voice was high-pitched and nasally. She had big boobs and bigger hair. Her dress was short and fit all her curves like a glove. She was the complete package. I didn’t see a wedding ring. She must be his mistress.

“Nobody.” He dismissed her with the wave of a hand. “Now go.”

“But I haven’t finished—”

“Get out of here,” he thundered.

Her high heels clicked a fast staccato as she left.

“Hey, Johnny, what’s new?” Thankfully, my voice remained calm, but I wasn’t. This guy scared me.

“You got a lot of nerve, coming back down here. I got a reputation to protect, and you ain’t done squat for me.”

I glanced at Frankie. “You should really hope The Boss doesn’t find out about this.” I was bluffing. The Boss couldn’t care less.

A low guttural snarl came from Frankie.

Johnny chuckled. “You know
Conrad
can’t touch my people.”

“You should show more respect, and you’re not supposed to harass his humans, yet here I am.”

Johnny’s face was smug. “Everyone knows you’re special, Claire. You aren’t part of that deal.”

Special. It was a cruel joke. I should have been protected like the others, but I wasn’t. Not that I knew why, and I wasn’t going to ask The Boss. It wasn’t as if we had weekly one-on-ones. Johnny could do anything he wanted. There would be no ramifications—no retribution. The Boss would probably be more pissed
that
Johnny called him Conrad, the Devil’s human CEO-of-a-Fortune-500-Company name.

“What about the Godfather? He might have something to say about it.”

Everyone went quiet, which wasn’t the reaction I expected.

Johnny’s smug smile disappeared as he lost some of his swagger. Absently, he touched the scar on his cheek. “I run things here, not Harry,” he said.

Was the Druid King named Harry?

Johnny tilted his head toward the guy on my left, the man with the deep voice. Before I had a chance to react, he sucker-punched me in the gut. The wind was knocked out of me, and it hurt to take my next breath.

Johnny’s dark mood changed, and he nodded toward the European. I flinched, expecting him to hit me, but he didn’t. He untied me
,
then stood me on my feet.

Wheezing, I straightened, rubbing my wrists to return circulation.

“You see?” Johnny said. “I can be cruel or nice—just like Harry—but if you try to run from me... Well, let’s just say you shouldn’t run.” He had a wicked grin, and his cocky expression was back.

“What do you want from me?”

He kicked out the seat across from him. I hesitated for a moment
,
then took the seat.

“Moe,” Johnny barked. A guy I hadn’t seen, sitting off to the side behind Johnny, stood. “Get the boys out of here. I have private business to discuss.”

“Sure, boss.”

Moe ushered out Frankie, who still looked ready to throttle me, and the other two. Johnny and I were now alone.

He went back to eating, skewering an olive with his knife. “You caused me a lot of trouble with the union reps. I told them we came to an arrangement.”

I would have laughed if I hadn’t been so shocked. “Are you kidding me? That was five years ago.”

He tossed another olive into his mouth.

“What exactly did you expect me to do?” I asked. “I told The Boss what you said, but he’s not going to budge. Nobody gets dental.”

“The Cleaners get dental.”

I gaped at him for a minute, not sure if he was crazy or if I was. “Yeah, well the Cleaners don’t count.” This was a lame argument, but I didn’t have control over any of this. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? I can get you on the calendar early next week. You and
Conrad
can chat about it over lunch.”

He glared at me. Okay, so it was a stupid suggestion, but what did he expect? He was the crazy who wanted Maintenance to get dental, and apparently, he was willing to hurt me to make that happen. As if that would work. I didn’t get dental; no one got dental, but he was acting as if it was the holy grail of company perks. Why did he even care?

“I don’t understand why you think I can make this happen. It’s ridiculous you’re even asking. He’s already said no.” And he hates me.

“Should I call my boys back? Have them rough you up? I don’t believe I went far enough the last time.” Johnny skewered another olive.

Worse things have happened to me since, but you never forget your first time. I didn’t want to spend another three days in a locked room protected by a circle of salt. He sent me to The Boss with a message: Maintenance gets dental or next time he’d send me back dead. This was next time.

I forced back the tears that threatened to fall. What would Jack think if I didn’t come home for a few days—or ever? I couldn’t solve Johnny’s problem, and he knew it.

He studied me
,
then chuckled. He was enjoying my fear.

I squared my shoulders and glared back at him. “I can’t get you what you want. We both know that. If you aren’t going to kill me, have Frankie bring the car around. The Boss wants me back by noon, and I still have an errand to run.”

Johnny’s brows rose
,
then he threw back his head and laughed. “You’re something else, kid. You know that?”

“Why did you really bring me here?”

He stopped laughing and dropped his silverware onto his plate with a clatter. Pulling the napkin off his lap, he wiped his mouth then spoke. “The Families aren’t happy about the fight.” He tossed the napkin onto the table. “You cost us a lot of money.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You were supposed to stay out of downtown,” he said. “I made that clear the last time, didn’t I?”

“This is the first time I’ve been down here in months.” Although, in light of Junior’s behavior, I was wondering if I had an evil twin who liked pissing off mobsters and hellspawn.

“It was all hooked up, until you showed up.”

Hooked up was probably code for fixed. I remembered an article from the paper. It had mentioned something about the bookies taking bets against
Wagner
winning. Since the fight was canceled, Wagner didn’t win. The bookies must have lost a great deal of money. That was probably what Johnny meant, but that had nothing to do with me.

“I wasn’t at the fight.”

He was about to say something when a fidgeting Moe returned. He rubbed the back of his neck, and a bead of sweat threatened to roll down his cheek. He hesitated when Johnny motioned him over. Moe leaned down and whispered something in Johnny’s ear.

He frowned. “How did he find out?”

I focused on Moe’s whispered voice.

“I-I called him,” he admitted. “I thought you would want—”

Johnny’s eyes narrowed. A choking gurgle came from Moe. His eyes bulged as Johnny’s will wrapped around him. Moe had obviously made a mistake. Whoever he called wasn’t someone Johnny wanted notified. Was it the Godfather? Johnny seemed dismissive before. Maybe he didn’t want
Harry
involved.

Johnny tugged Moe forward, bringing his ear close to whisper. His words were so low I couldn’t make them out.

Moe peered at me. Johnny growled when Moe shook his head. His face was turning red. With little effort, Johnny threw him against the wall. Moe crumpled on the ground, sucking in air as he tried to catch his breath.

“Frankie,” Johnny shouted.

Frankie bustled back into the room. He glanced at Moe, who was staggering to his feet. “Yeah, boss?”

“Bring the car around. It’s time for our guest to leave.”

Frankie’s brows lowered, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Sure, boss,” he said, staring daggers at me
,
then at Moe.

“Now,” Johnny ordered and Frankie left without another word. Turning to me, Johnny said, “You come again, and I’ll kill you myself.”

The dark gleam in his eyes left no doubt he was serious.

“Oh, and another thing—” He eyeballed something above my head “—don’t be late.”

I turned just in time to see Moe’s right hook.

~ * ~

I woke up in the back of the town car. I winced as I touched my eye. It would be black and blue by tomorrow. It had been a while since someone actually knocked me unconscious. My head hurt worse now. I hate druids.

Frankie sat in the front seat reading what was left of my paper. I checked my watch— half past noon.
Ugh. The Boss is going to kill me
. Probably what Johnny wanted. I leaned my head against the seat. Why did I have to tell him when I was supposed to be back?

I touched my bruised eye again. “Did you have to knock me out? Couldn’t you just hold me until I was late?”

“Nope,” Frankie said. “We had orders.”

“What orders?”

He didn’t answer.

“Was it the Godfather?” Not that it made sense, but whom else could it have been?

Frankie’s eyes met mine in the rear-view mirror. His intense stare and clenched jaw were frightening.

I leaned back against the seat, not wanting to be near him.

“Yes,” he finally said.

“Why does he care?”

“No clue. Maybe he wants you as a pet.” He smiled, showing teeth.

I snorted, trying to lighten the mood. That was a bullshit answer. Harry, the Godfather and Druid King, wouldn’t want me for a pet. He would have to bargain with the Devil for me—why would he bother?

I shuddered at the thought of being owned by the Druid King. The druid mob in the Underworld was his enforcers, and he was more feared than they were. I’d even heard he was more feared than the Devil—not that I’d tell The Boss.

I peered out the window. We were parked in front of a deli called Sunshine Sandwiches. I glanced around; nothing was familiar. “Where are we?”

“You said Wylan James.”

“Yeah and?”

“He owns the place,” Frankie said, as if it were obvious.

“Wait here,” I said, getting out of the car.

The place, your average mom and pop deli, was wall-to-wall with customers. Surprisingly there seemed to be an equal number of druids, pagans, and demons. An elderly man with white hair stood hunched behind a glass wall making sandwiches. I did my best to slide past the other patrons to get closer until someone said, “Take a number.”

I scanned for the number dispenser and took the next slip—number ninety-eight. The readout above the deli counter read forty-two. I didn’t have time to wait.

“Wylan James,” I called over the crowd. The place went silent. “I need to speak with you in private.”

The elderly man didn’t look up from the sandwich he was making. “Take a number.”

A guy beside me chuckled, but he shut up when I said, “
The Boss
sent me.”

The noise level dropped to almost nothing. The door behind me opened
as
a few customers hurried out.

James cocked his head. “Prove it.”

A tingling sensation ran across my mark. I held up my right arm and lowered the sleeve of my suit jacket. The mark flashed bright red for a second then disappeared. A woman near me gasped. The door opened and closed again. More customers leaving.

James motioned for me to walk around to the back. There were a few grumbles from the crowd, but I ignored them.

“You were supposed to be here earlier, before the lunch rush.” He motioned me toward
a
door at the end of the corridor. “I don’t appreciate the show. I’ve got a business to run.”

“I got delayed.” I touched my bruised eye, but dropped my hand when he noticed. “And you wanted proof.”

I caught the red shine of his eyes as he turned toward the door. His rigid jaw and angry scowl screamed demon. Not all demons had a red glint, but red was always a demon
. Just
as brown was a druid and blue was a pagan. I’d never seen any eyes with a green shine, but hazel, violet, and gold were a few of the common alternates.