Demons are Forever: Confessions of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom Read Online Free Page B

before the storm. We should kick back and enjoy it. The wine. Maybe some cheese. A movie.” He pulled me close and traced his forefinger over my bottom lip. “Who knows where it could lead?” he added softly, his tone alone telegraphing at least one rather delightful destination.
    I leaned in close, then tilted my head back and batted my eyes at him. “Why, Mr. Connor,” I said, in my most breathy voice. “Are you seducing me?”
    “I think that might be on the agenda.” He kissed me then, and when he pulled back, his smile held the promise of more. “You get the wine,” he said. “I’ll find a movie.”
    We ended up snuggled together on the couch watching Sean Connery and Jill St. John do the James Bond thing. Stuart is an Ian Fleming fan, and I’ll watch anything with Sean Connery, so while this wasn’t exactly seduction material, it wasn’t torture either. Even so, the action sequences definitely shifted me from seduction mode into hunter mode. And by the time the credits rolled, I was wired again and ready to go.
    So was my husband, actually, but not in the way I had in mind. Still, I have to admit that he won me over pretty quickly. How could he not? This was the man I loved, after all. And this was what I’d been missing.
    He pulled me close, his lips brushing mine, and his fingers touching me in a way that was both delicate and possessive. I moaned a little, thinking how lucky I was to have found love twice in my life.
    I know it’s natural for a widow to think of her first husband. So even though memories of Eric started to sneak in around the edges of my lust, I didn’t feel guilty. Stuart knew that I’d loved Eric and that he’d always have a place in my heart.
    What Stuart didn’t know was that Eric might still be alive. Might, in fact, be living in San Diablo.
    I pushed the thought away, not ready to deal with that possibility, and tugged Stuart closer. And as I lost myself in my husband’s kisses, I tried hard not to think about how complicated my life could become.
    A full moon hung in the sky as I made my way down the wooden boardwalk. I had a flashlight tucked in my back pocket but I didn’t need it. The night was clear, and the light from the moon was plenty to show me the way.
    I’d been patrolling now for about fifteen minutes. I’d parked along Main Street in front of one of San Diablo’s numerous artsy stores. I’d walked the short distance to the Pacific Coast Highway, passing pizza places and local coffee shops closed up tight for the night. There’s a traffic light at PCH and Main Street, but this late, it was flashing yellow. I’d crossed the highway without seeing any sign that anyone else was awake on this chilly January night, human or demon.
    I fervently hoped I hadn’t made a mistake in coming. The trip would be worth it if I actually nailed a demon. If not, I was risking family peace should Stuart wake up.
    The air hung cold and thick, but I fought the urge to hug myself for warmth. I needed my hands free, ready to defend myself should Tomlinson jump me.
    As for that, I kept my senses on alert, my eyes trained to spot anything out of the ordinary, and my ears cued to hear more than just the pounding of the surf.
    Even if you don’t run across a demon, patrolling is hard work. You have to be at the ready, adrenaline pounding just below the surface. If not—if you relax even a little—that’s the moment they’ll get you. And that’s how Hunters end up dead.
    Since dead really wasn’t a convenient state of being for me, I was on hyper alert. Even so, I almost didn’t hear the faint pad-thump, pad-thump of footsteps behind me. The sound was so negligible, I could almost believe I’d imagined it. Or that I’d heard nothing more than a cat crossing the boardwalk in search of a washed-up fish for dinner.
    Pad-thump. Pad-thump.
    My heart rate increased, multiplying with the tempo of the footsteps. I tried to gauge the distance behind me but couldn’t. Whoever was