She glanced over her shoulder at me. “If you’ve found the IP address, that’s great. But Steve sent me the full name of the woman who Clint was working with. Her name is Cassie Grant, and I’m going after her.”

I waited for it to sink in. She took a few more steps and then paused, realization darting across her face, quickly followed by fury. “I forgot,” she muttered. “My car is totaled. I’ll get a ride from Vas.”

I tensed at the thought of her ‘riding’ Vas, and Danica gave me a narrow-eyed stare that told me to tread carefully. I smiled.

“I took the liberty of arranging for a new car for you,” I informed her.

She placed her hands on her hips. “Did I ask you to do that?”

My smile widened. “You didn’t need to ask, bounty hunter. As usual, I am anticipating your needs before you even think of them.”

I didn’t know why I enjoyed making this woman scowl at me. Why I drank down the fury that radiated from her. Perhaps because she was one of the few people I knew who hadn’t had centuries of learning to hide their true feelings behind a bored mask.

“Look, Samael–”

“Borrow it, if the thought of owning it makes you worry.”

She thought about it. “Fine. Thank you.”

The sour look on her face made me quirk my lips. “The picture of grace and manners. As usual.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

* * *

Danica

Nice cars were wasted on me. Even if I could have afforded the smooth ride I was enjoying right now, it wouldn’t have occurred to me to spend whatever insane amount of money Samael had spent on this car. And I’d seen his personal floor in the tower garage. This was just one of many.

And yet… this was a special kind of car. It was some European brand I’d never heard of, but the valet had raised his eyebrows when he’d handed me the keys.

The leather seat cradled my butt, the air conditioning actually cooled down the car, instead of giving a half-hearted attempt, blasting hot air in my face, and then shutting off. The interior was large and spacious, and the thing practically parked itself.

Say what you want about Samael, but working for him had its perks.

You’re not working for him, idiot. You’re bonded to him.

Yes. And then there was that.

He’d looked… distraught when I was hurt. And he’d tamped down all of his instincts, which told him to hunt– the instincts that urged him to make the problem go away– because I asked him to.