Sins of the Demon

“Sure did,” he said, setting the box on the desk. “I remember you used to like it pretty sweet.”

“Just like me,” I said with a bat of my eyelashes. Taking a sip, I discovered our definitions of “pretty sweet” were quite different. At most there might have been three sugars in it. More likely two. Still, it was a nice gesture, and I wasn’t about to throw it in his face or anything. Besides, it was heaps better than the coffee here at the station. “Have a seat.” I indicated the beat up chair that was squeezed into the corner of my tiny office. I leaned forward and tweaked open the box. Donuts, though not my favorite—the chocolate kind. Still, I was cool with regular glazed as well. “And now you will get to see me at my most glamorous,” I said as I snagged one out.

“How long have you had this office?” His gaze swept the miniscule area.

I had to finish chewing and swallowing donut before I could reply. “Almost a year. I don’t mind how small it is since I don’t have to share.”

“Sure, but don’t you believe in decorating?”

I made a show of looking around. “It is decorated! See, I have a poster.” I was quite proud of my fake “Magic Eye” poster. I’d lost count of the number of people who struggled to see a 3-D image in it that didn’t exist.

He chuckled but didn’t rise to the bait of the poster. “I stand corrected. You should consider opening your own interior design business.”

“Nah. I like being a cop. I get to drive fast and tell people how stupid they are.” I licked icing off my fingers and gri

“Anyway,” he said, shifting to a smile that he probably thought was disarming. “I was wondering if you could help me out with something?”

I gave him a properly inquisitive look, though the slight curl of disappointment in my belly already had a good idea of what he was about to ask. Some sort of trouble with his neighbor maybe, or a ticket that he was hoping I could help him take care of.

He tugged a folded piece of paper from his pocket. A ticket. I hated that I’d been right. No real interest in me after all. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Back in college he’d always seemed more interested in having either a hot girlfriend he could show off or a super smart one he could use for free tutoring. I hadn’t really fallen into either category, which was one of the reasons I’d been astounded that he’d asked me out in the first place.

Unfolding the ticket, his expression morphed into “sheepish.” I wasn’t buying it. He probably practiced these expressions in the mirror in order to get what he wanted. He was smooth.

But I’d been dealing with demons for the past ten years.

I didn’t say anything as he set it on the desk. Didn’t even look at it. Just continued to gaze at him with the same inquisitive, slightly puzzled expression. Two could play this game.

He broke first, tapping the ticket with a finger and clearing his throat. “There’s this road near my parents’ house with a hill, and I didn’t realize how fast I was going. He got me for sixty in a forty-five.”

“Okay,” I said as guilelessly as possible. “You need to know where to go to pay it? Or are you going to contest it in court?”

He leaned back, rueful smile still in place. “It’s a pretty hefty fine,” he said. “I was wondering if you knew any way I could get it reduced?”

“You want me to see if I can fix it.” I didn’t make it a question. “You want to see if you can spend a few dollars for donuts and coffee to see if you can save over a hundred.” If I was more of a bitch I’d throw the coffee right back at him.

Now he winced. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. I just wanted to see if it could be changed to seatbelt or—” He let out a choked cry and staggered to his feet, staring down in shock at the coffee covering his front.

I stared in shock as well, then yanked my eyes to my right hand—which was holding the empty coffee cup. I barely even remembered throwing the coffee at him, but I knew I had. I’d thought about it, then done it. No hesitation.

“Oh my god, Roman. I…I…” I dropped the empty cup on my desk and yanked open my top drawer to grab out some tired napkins from a long ago fast food meal. I thrust them toward him, and he eyed them almost uncertainly before taking them and making a futile attempt to blot up the coffee.

“I guess that’s a ‘no’ then” he said, mouth twisting in a grimace.

“Shit, Roman, I swear I—”

“Everything cool here?”

I jerked my head around to see Cory, my sergeant, standing in the doorway of the office, frowning beneath his mustache, brown eyes taking in the details.

I opened my mouth but suddenly had no idea what to say. I threw my coffee on him because he asked me how to get a ticket reduced. So fucking what? That kind of stuff happened all the time.

“I’m a klutz,” Roman spoke up while I was still floundering. He turned the wry smile onto Sarge as he wiped his hands on the soggy napkins. “I was trying to give Kara her coffee, and we bumped hands.” He laughed, an easy sound. “I was the loser.”

Damn, but he was good. I’d have totally believed him if I hadn’t actually been here when it happened and done the actual spilling. Throwing, rather.

Sarge’s face cleared, and he gave a brisk nod. “Gotcha. There’s a restroom down the hall if you need to clean up.” He shifted his attention to me. “I’ll see if I can get a trustee in here to mop.”

I just gave him a nod. I wasn’t sure if it was safe for me to speak yet.

Roman simply gave a self-effacing chuckle. “I think I got the worst of it. I’m going to have to head home to change anyway.” He shot me a perfect imitation of an apologetic look. Or maybe he really was apologetic? “I’m really sorry about getting coffee everywhere, Kara.”

I gulped. “Um. ’S okay,” I managed. Why the fuck had I thrown my coffee at him?

He caught my eye, and for the first time I saw what I thought might be true emotion—a confusing split-second flash of regret, anger, affection, and relief. Then he was out the door while I stood with my hands clenched to keep them from shaking.

Sarge watched him go, and as soon as the outer door closed he turned to me, eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

I shook my head as if that could get my thoughts back in order. “I threw my coffee at him.”

He made a hmmfing sound. “No shit. I’m not any sort of blood-spatter analyst, but—” His gaze raked the coffee on the wall. “—even I can tell that was more than a ‘bump’ of hands. Now tell me whether I need to go after him and defend the virtue of one of my sisters in blue.”

A snort of laughter escaped me at the thought of anyone defending what little virtue I might still have. I unclenched my hands, sighed. “He didn’t do anything like that. All he did was ask if I could get a ticket reduced.” I grimaced and rubbed at my eyes. “I have no idea why that set me off.”

He pursed his lips. “You cool now?”

I nodded vigorously. “Like ice.” Spazzing out on the inside, but I could fake cool.

Maybe I couldn’t, because Sarge simply snorted and turned away. “I’ll go get that trustee.”

I wanted to sink into my chair and wallow in a mild freakout, but I couldn’t afford that sort of luxury right now. I needed to go see my aunt.

I waited long enough for the trustee to wipe down the wall and mop up the worst of the coffee, then I shooed him out, locked my door and headed down the hall to my sergeant’s office.

“By the way,” I said as I stood in his doorway, “both the vics from yesterday had mega-strokes.”

He lifted his head and leveled a frown at me. “Does Doc have a reason why yet?”

I shook my head. “I need to go check out a few things, if that’s okay.”

“Do what you need to do,” he said, then dropped his attention back to the paperwork on his desk. I masked a grin as I left. Cory knew that a number of my cases had some supernatural aspects, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Or openly acknowledge it. Or anything else that gave him the screaming willies. Poor guy. He tried, though. I had to give him that.