The Trouble with Demons by Julie Kenner

Author:Julie Kenner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotica, Romance, Comedy, Fiction
Publisher: Julie Kenner
Published: 2014-07-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

While Stuart got sucked into a mini press conference, I called David to bring him up to speed on the demon’s demands. After that, Stuart and I headed home, and I spent much of the drive assuring him that by the time the election rolled around no one would even remember the incident.

“You were sticking up for me,” I said. “Chivalry. Machismo. Grand romantic gestures. All that stuff wins votes, right?”

He stopped at a red light before turning in to our neighborhood. “Do you really think I care about that, Kate?”

I stiffened, startled. “Well, yes. Considering all the time you’ve put into this campaign, I assumed you cared a lot.”

He reached over and took my hand. “I care about you more,” he said, squeezing my fingers and sending all sorts of little trills shooting through my body. “Anybody treats my wife that way, they get pummeled. That’s just the way the world works. And if that means I don’t win the election, then so be it.”

“Yeah?” I smiled, both surprised and pleased. Maybe now was the time to ask about Eddie.

“Yeah,” he said, and then stroked my cheek. “So who was that guy?” My warm fuzzy feelings disappeared like so much smoke.

“I wish I knew.”

He looked at me sideways. “He certainly seemed to know you.”

“And he certainly seemed interested in picking a fight with you,” I said, my snappy tone probably originating with my guilt at getting Stuart involved in a brawl. “Honestly, Stuart, if you’re not going to believe my answer why even bother asking the question?”

He didn’t answer that, instead concentrating on navigating the short distance to our house. As soon as we reached our driveway, he hit the button for the garage door opener and the mechanism began its slow and steady grind.

We stayed silent in the car, the air thick between us, with me cursing demons, my husband, myself, and the damn garage door that had been on its last legs for months, but which Stuart never got around to repairing.

Finally, as the door clicked open into place, Stuart pulled into the garage, and then turned to me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

“I know,” I said. It had been a long one for me, too.

As soon as we were inside, Stuart made himself a drink and headed upstairs to watch the news in bed. The romantic interlude that had begun in the car had faded in the wake of my denials about knowing the demon. Which, of course, made me feel even guiltier, and did nothing for my mood.

Nothing good, anyway.

I puttered around until the house was quiet, and then I crept into the attic and retrieved my stiletto and crossbow.

By now, my mood had shifted to determined. This demon had messed with my husband and my daughter, and he was going down.

The hard part was getting out of the garage—I’m going to break down and fix the damn automatic door by myself—but once I was in the driveway, I breathed a sigh of relief.

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