Page 6 of The Reluctant Reaper
He’d never come to Minnesota before. Never. It was one of many reasons to love the land of 11,842 lakes.
“That thing would be impractical for anyone else, but not this guy,” Amara mused aloud. “It’s only a two-door, because it’s not like he’s known for carpooling. And it’s in the top ten of deadliest cars to drive, because he’s not subtle, either.”
“Who’sthatnow?” the new boss asked, sounding not a little dazzled, which was annoying. “Ummm. Nice suit, too.”
“Oh, sorry, I should have mentioned. That’s a death god. He’s here to nag me into going to North Dakota.” Amara reached out and patted the woman’s arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll get rid of him and I won’t be asking for any time off. Now where’s that checkbook?”
ChapterFour
“Still neck to heels in all black, I see. Subtle.”
Baron La Croix let out a snort. “All my purple is, lamentably, getting cleaned.” He stomped toward her and Bette, who was doubtless enjoying a most entertaining morning, scattering vultures and rumpling his suit; Amara was petty enough to be glad. And even pettier to wish he’d slipped and gone down on his ass. “Amara Morrigan. Forgive the cliché, but it truly is always a pleasure.”
“We both know that’s a lie.”
“This guy your boyfriend or somethin’?”
In horrified unison: “Great gods,no.”
La Croix inclined his head: “Dear madam, I’m an old friend?—”
Amara: “He’s one of my dad’s work buddies.”
Bette digested that, blinking. “Oh, yeah? Him and your dad work together?”
“... Yes.”
“Waste management,” La Croix added, ignoring Amara’s snort.
“Oh. Well. Gotta have that, right?” Bette nodded and motioned to the pizza boxes. “It’s not pretty, but it’s important.”
“The lady is wise,” La Croix replied, and swept Bette a bow while Amara rolled her eyes so hard she glared at her own frontal lobe. “We must speak.”
“We are.”
“I bear urgent news.”
“Sounds painful.”
“Gods help me.” La Croix straightened, grinning. He towered over... everyone, really; Amara pegged him at about six foot five. Long and lean and too many teeth and a mop of ridiculous blue-black wavy hair. Blue eyes so pale, he looked blind, an especial irony since he could see in the dark like a jaguar. “Still the smart-ass. It seems to be your default.”
“Takes one to et cetera.” She made a shooing motion and he laughed at her. “Could you scamper off? I’m working.”
“Er.” La Croix swept the dilapidated park with a long gaze, then shook his head. “Still with this, hrm, whatever this is? Your litany of jobs? Your tiny trips of vengeance?”
Amara shrugged. “A gal’s gotta eat.”
“Indeed. Allow me to take you out for a meal.”
“I just ate,” she lied. “And, again: working.”
His grin dropped away. She braced herself for Earnest La Croix, which was always worse than Smirking La Croix. And she’d take either over Scolding La Croix. “I bring urgent news from the Midwestern Fiefdom.”
“If it’s a tornado warning, we’ve got the Weather Channel for that. And a thousand, thousand apps. Also, it’s too early in the season for tornados.”
“Amara—”
“And if it’s a family issue, it’s none of your business.”
