“Hey, boss.” Sammy poked his head in. “Fryer’s on the fritz again.”

 

I perked up. “Did you check the carburetor?” Gawd, I was so helpful.

 

He laughed softly and shook his head. “Davidson, did you stop taking your medication again?”

 

“Why? What have you heard?”

 

“I’ll call Saul,” Reyes said.

 

Really?

 

Sammy gave him a thumbs-up and me the crazy sign. I felt very judged.

 

I had Reyes talking. I wasn’t about to give up on this conversation just because he had to call Saul.

 

As he picked up the phone, I continued my rant. “So, I had an idea about the god glass.” I waited for his reaction. Got none. “So, there are rules, right? I don’t know the names of the people the evil priest sent there, and I’m not the one who sent them, anyway. So I figure I can go to hell. I can get him back.”

 

He shook his head, then left a message on Saul’s phone.

 

When he hung up, he said, “You don’t understand. People don’t really burn for an eternity. That’s a myth. He’s long gone.”

 

“But the people in this dimension are still alive. What if we just broke it?”

 

“The god glass, from what I can tell, is a gate. A portal to the hell dimension. What if instead of freeing the people inside, we locked it forever? Or if the entire dimension collapsed and trapped them for all eternity?”

 

He had some really good points. I sat across from him, defeated.

 

“Besides, if it really is god glass, I doubt you can just break it with a hammer.”

 

Another good point.

 

“Does it bother you that I have it?”

 

“Should it?”

 

I draped my body over his desk. He could be so frustrating.

 

He laughed under his breath.

 

“I suppose you have to work.”

 

“Nothing urgent. Do you want to tell me how you ended up stranded in Scotland?”

 

I shrugged, his coat heavy on my shoulders. “I just got angry.”

 

“At me?”

 

“At men in general.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Do you know when I was born?”

 

“Come again?”

 

“You know. Like what era? How old am I? Are we talking the Mesozoic, or do we have to go back as far as the Paleozoic?”

 

“I don’t know. Your dimension is much older than this one.”

 

I bolted upright. “Older?”

 

“That’s not how it works, anyway. Time isn’t the same on every plane. This plane’s chronological structure doesn’t mesh with the one from your dimension. It would be impossible to tell.”

 

“Is that a polite way of saying I’m so old, I’d have to be carbon-dated to figure it out?”

 

“Yes,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s it exactly.”

 

“Okay, what about you, then? How old are you? You and Jehovah? And how are you brothers? Like, did you have a mom and dad?”

 

His brows cinched together, but only for a moment. “I don’t remember. I don’t think it works that way.”

 

“I’m sorry. What do you remember?”

 

He filled his lungs and sat back in his chair. “I remember I treated you like shit. And I know you don’t remember, because if you did, you’d hate me.”

 

“Doubt it. Why did you treat me so badly, then?”

 

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth in thought. “You know how in grade school a boy pulls the hair of the girl he likes?”

 

“You liked me? Wait. You pulled my hair?”

 

“You were, for lack of a better phrase, out of my league.”

 

I snorted before I realized he was serious. “I find that really hard to believe. Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

 

He studied me, then asked, “If you do ever remember, will you forgive me?”

 

I walked around his desk. Propped my ass against it. Studied him a long moment.

 

He let me.

 

How were this perfect man and I even in the same orbit? I was out of his league? Not likely.

 

He reached forward, put a hand on my thighs, and slid my skirt up until it bunched above my hips. Then he looked up at me. “Say yes,” he said, his voice smooth and deep.

 

“Yes.”

 

Anticipation fluttered in my stomach.

 

He propped me against the desk again and sat back, letting his gaze travel over me, stopping at my crotch, then continuing down my legs.

 

The outline of his cock through his jeans quickened my pulse.

 

Before I could do anything about it, he lifted my booted foot and braced it on the arm of his chair. Then he did the same with the other, anchoring it before reaching up and parting my knees. He took hold of my ankles, my boots only a few inches high, and sat back to study me again.

 

Thankfully, Sammy had closed the door. Otherwise the patrons would be getting dinner and a show.

 

He locked his intense gaze with mine. “Wet your fingers.”

 

I lifted a hand to my mouth.

 

“Not there.”

 

Surprised, I reached between my legs and slid my fingers inside my panties, my chest rising and falling as I pushed them inside.

 

“Farther.”

 

I pushed them deeper, the sensation swirling in the pit of my stomach.

 

His breaths grew labored as well. “Rub your clit.”

 

I did, the hunger I saw on his face more erotic than my own touch.