Demon Hunting In the Deep South (45 page)

Father Ben might help him, but he was reluctant to go to him with his peculiar little “problem.” What if Father Ben couldn’t see Meredith and thought Trey was crazy? There’d been more than enough talk about the Petersons already.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. Since the fire and the shocking revelations in his grandmother’s letter, everything had changed. He still had money, but people treated him differently. People he’d once considered beneath him didn’t show him the same respect, like the scandal had knocked him down to their level somehow.

As for his peers at the country club, they either greeted him with tight-lipped reserve or gave him the cold shoulder.

Was it his fault his granddaddy was a psychopath? Hadn’t he suffered enough because of that man?

If he couldn’t have Evie, at least he could have his old life back. There had to be a way to prove to himself and everybody in Hannah that the Petersons were still a force to be reckoned with.

Something moved in the gloom, startling him. A man flowed out of the shadows like some dark genie responding to Trey’s desperate wish. The stranger was young and handsome, but much too thin, with sooty, artfully messy hair and a full-lipped, sensuous mouth. He wore jeans and scuffed black boots with chains at the heels, a torn white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. A thin silver tooth dangled from one ear, and his eyebrow and bottom lip were pierced.

The stranger tapped on the driver’s side glass. “Trey Peterson?”

Trey rolled down the window. “Yes?”

“I represent a consortium interested in making a deal with you.”

“What sort of deal?” Trey said, frowning.

The guy looked more like a drug dealer than a businessman, and he was wearing eye liner, for God’s sake.

“The kind that could make you a lot of money—”

“Money I’ve got,” Trey said, starting to roll the window back up.

“—and make you a very powerful man.”

Trey’s finger stilled on the power button. “I’m listening.”

“Your grandfather had a knife.”

Trey’s interest faded. Another collector. “My grandfather had lots of knives. They were destroyed in a fire.”

“This was a very special knife. My . . . uh . . . employers are most eager to obtain another one like it. They know about the fire, but are wondering if, perhaps, your grandfather left some information about the provenance of this knife someplace else. A safe-deposit box, perhaps. Give them what they’re looking for, and you can name your own price.”

Name his own price, huh? Maybe they’d be interested in buying the mill. He hated the damn place. Nothing but bad memories there now Evie was gone. He’d never have to set foot there again. And selling the mill would make Old Blake spin in his grave, an added bonus.

He could start fresh. He could be free for the first time in his life. Of course, he’d still have Meredith to deal with, but maybe she wouldn’t want to leave Hannah. Maybe she
couldn’t
leave Hannah.

He’d never thought of that.

Trey drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking. His grandfather had been a cagey old bastard. It would be like him to stash important papers and other items in several different banks.

“I could look,” he said.

The stranger’s eyes flared with excitement, shining purple orbs in the darkness. A trickle of dread crept down Trey’s spine.

“Excellent,” the stranger said. “The consortium will be happy to hear this. We look forward to doing business with you, Mr. Peterson.”

The man with the glowing eyes smiled.

Did you miss DEMON HUNTING IN DIXIE, the first book in Lexi’s hilarious series?

A warrior, a demon, and the girl next door . . .

Looking for Trouble

Addy Corwin is a florist with an attitude. A bad attitude, or so her mama says, ’cause she’s not looking for a man. Mama’s wrong. Addy has looked. There’s just not much to choose from in Hannah, her small Alabama hometown. Until Brand Dalvahni shows up, a supernaturally sexy, breathtakingly well built hunk of a warrior from—well, not from around here, that’s for sure. Mama thinks he might be European or maybe even a Yankee. Brand says he’s from another dimension.

Addy couldn’t care less where he’s from. He’s gorgeous. Serious muscles. Disturbing green eyes. Brand really gets her going. Too bad he’s a whack job. Says he’s come to rescue her from a demon. Puh-lease. But right after Brand shows up, strange things start to happen. Dogs talk and reanimated corpses stalk the quiet streets of Hannah. Her mortal enemy, Meredith, otherwise known as the Death Starr, breaks out in a severe and inexplicable case of butt boils. Addy might not know what’s going on, but she definitely wants a certain sexy demon hunter by her side when it all goes down. . . .

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