Page 32 of Savior

“Hey yourself. Where are you?” His voice boomed through the speakers, and I turned the volume down before pulling out of the parking lot.

“I’m—my parents texted.”

He went quiet before drawling, “Didn’t know Satan had a cell phone.”

I grinned and made a right back toward Broadway. “Yeah, makes it easier to keep tabs on the demons.”

“What’d they want, Celia?”

“They, uh, they said they have the girls’ money. I’m headed there now.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Just like that, huh. Why now?”

“That’s what I’ve been asking myself. The timing is odd, isn’t it?”

“Completely,” Angel said, and I could picture the look of confusion on his face as clearly as if he was sitting next to me. “Considerin’ that Jamie all but forgave the debt at Dakota’s wedding.”

“Wait—he did?” Most of the details of Dakota’s wedding had begun to blur, making it impossible to remember what, if anything, we’d talked about.

Had he told me?

“He damn sure did, so why are they in such a hurry to give you the money back now? Don’t sit right with me, kid.” I turned on my blinker and merged into the turning lane, lost in the monotonous clicks.

“Tell me you ain’t headed there alone, Celia,” Angel chided. “You’re too smart for that, girl. I’ll meet you, but your ass ain’t steppin’ foot inside without me. You hear what I’m sayin’?”

“I hear you, old man,” I said with another soft smile. “How far out are you?”

He chuckled. “You tell me.”

I pulled into my parent’s long driveway, unsurprised to see the ocean blue Chevy truck parked behind their cars. “You stalking me now?” I asked, as he swung the door open and climbed out.

“Nah, just makin’ sure you’re safe. C’mon, let’s go find out what these two assholes really want.” He patted the holster on his hip. “She ain’t got a yard full of cops this time either, does she?”

I pushed the doorbell. “We’re not shooting anyone… we’ll just get the money and go, okay?” I’d never admitted it, but Angel had given me a much-needed distraction from the conversation at the baby boutique.

Several minutes passed, and no one came to the door. Angel rapped his knuckles against the wood with a frown, keeping one hand on his gun.

After telling myself that they were in the backyard, I grabbed the doorknob and twisted. It opened to an empty den.

Angel held his arm out before moving around me and into the house. “Stay there, Celia.”

“I’m not standing on the porch,” I snapped. “I’m sure they’re just out—”

The small breakfast table where my father sat and read the paper every morning while my mother made breakfast was now covered in money.

Large stacks of cash that completely covered the wood underneath.

It looked as if someone had robbed a bank.

“Angel,” I whispered, no longer convinced that him drawing a gun was overreacting. “What’s happening?”

He shook his head. “Your parents always have this kind of cash lying around?”

I shook my head. “Never.”

“Let’s get outside and call the club, okay?”

I’d just opened my mouth to agree when I saw it. I sucked in a sharp breath and pointed with shaking fingers towards the cabinets.

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