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It was one of those days.
Susan fumbled with the key for a long minute, trying not to spill her now-cold coffee. Finally, the door gave way, and the familiar chime of a bell greeted her in the dimly lit shop. A distinctive smell mercilessly assaulted her nose, a mix of dust and leather. With a sigh, the woman tossed her purse behind the counter and rubbed her eyes furiously. A new workday had begun, unconcerned about her headache.
Owning a thrift store on a sleepy block in New York was never part of her plans. But things happen when your long forgotten relatives end up being more generous than expected. At first, Susan took it as a sign: a chance to quit her boring desk job and try something new for once. However, her enthusiasm was bound to die quickly.
She cast a tired glance at the new additions. On today's menu was sorting through bundles of donated clothes: vintage hats, scarves in every color of rainbow, and hand-knitted sweaters, clearly left by a caring but rather unfashionable grandma.
Lucky her, the shop's routine usually began before the lazy city woke up and settled into its frantic rhythm. Susan liked it better this way. The morning hours belonged entirely to her. Normally, thrifters didn't dare to visit the store that early, except on rare occasions.
The bell rang, almost mockingly.
Damn, she jinxed it.
Plastering the best of her smiles, Susan turned to the door:
“Wel-”
The words caught in her throat.
Over the course of a year, she'd seen a wide variety of clients: cheapskates and shopaholics of all stripes. However, the trio that emerged before her aimed to break all records for absurdity.
Susan's face probably gave her away. Meeting her puzzled gaze, the short, plump man in an aloha shirt broke the prolonged silence.
“Good morning, signora!” he flashed a sugary smile.
Despite the bravado in the voice, his eyes continued to dart around as he tried to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
The reason for his nervousness was clearly behind him. A short-haired girl in a strange blue uniform. Police? Military? Susan wasn't sure, but she could've sworn this lady can kill with a single glance.
And finally, her companion, whose arm she jealously clutched. A tall hunk with dyed silver hair. The provocative scarlet cloak did nothing to hide his bare six-pack.
“Excuse me!”
The saleswoman flinched, mentally reproaching herself for staring too long.
“Yes?” she could barely lock her eyes with the scary lady.
Oh, she has quite unique eyes.
"I apologize for the early visit. We are in a hurry, so please just ring up one men's t-shirt."
The girl in uniform reported in one breath, her expression unchanging.
Then she briefly nodded her head at her… boyfriend?
“For him. The cheapest one you got.”
“Hey, my last one was from the brand store, you know!” The guy chimed in, barely hiding his smirk.
The grip on his elbow tightened.
“Cut the crap. Your friend's paying anyway.”
The short man gasped and quickly turned around.
“Hey! What the hell, kid?! Why should I cover the side-effects of your lovemaking?”
“Sounds like a valid compensation to me.”
“Zip it, you both!”
The shorty yelped and quickly hid behind the red cloak, dodging the murderous aura. His friend just chuckled, meeting the hateful gaze head-on, a taunting grin never leaving his lips.
Leaning against the counter, Susan felt her migraine growing worse with each passing second. Summoning the last bit of her strength the saleswoman put her smile back and humbly interrupted before anything could escalate further:
“And what size do you need?"
Dead silence was her best reward.
***
Dante wasn't one to complain. His naturally strong body never failed him before, even after some particularly nasty jobs. Normally the heavy artillery was annoying, but didn't cause much trouble, given the superhealing abilities of his. So losing to electricity felt a little anticlimactic. Not cool. How many volts were in this taser again?
The last thing he remembered was Lady's venomous line before darkness enveloped him, snapping the trap shut. What he definitely didn't remember was Enzo by his side. However, judging by the snoring, his old, unreliable friend wasn't a hallucination.
Handcuffed, huh.
Only now Dante did realize that his limbs feel kinda stiff too. Unlike Enzo he was less lucky, with his arms immobilized behind his back.
Guess, she really hates me.
He frowned, remembering her wild accusations. An odd uncharacteristic frustration rose in his chest. To deal with it quickly, Dante found no better way than to kick his unfortunate companion.
“Wake up, Enzo! Do you want to sleep through your own execution?”
“Not funny, kid!”
Enzo grumbled, rubbing his leg and trying to get into a sitting position.
“I warned you, playing with feds wasn't a brilliant idea.”
“Well, some of them are worth playing with.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Dante spotted a familiar pack of dark hair and deliberately raised his voice:
"Until they resort to cheap dirty tricks to steal my family heirloom!"
Behind the protective glass Lady's shoulders visibly dropped. The cold, muffled voice didn't keep him waiting.
“Next time try using your brain more, Hellblood.”
Dante felt a vein popped on his forehead. This woman was insufferable, but he wasn't about to give in.
"Is this your subtle way of asking me out?” he cocked his head, savoring her tense posture.
“Sorry, the spark I felt wasn't enough to consider a second date."
A dry scoff came over the communicator.
“Date a demon? I'm not that desperate.”
She was dangerously skilled in getting under his skin. Dante felt the wave of anger burn through his chest again.
“How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not a demon!”
“Yeah-yeah. Pardon my generalization, half-blood.”
Gritting his teeth, Dante almost lunged forward, towards those mocking mismatched eyes. He probably would have done something stupid like smash his head against the glass if Enzo's firm hand hadn't suddenly landed on his back.
“Whoa, whoa, buddy, stop!”
The short man patted his shoulder slightly and then leaned closer, whispering in his ear:
“You're ruining our chances, son.”
Dante winced, but leaned against the wall with a sigh. Things couldn't get any worse. Enzo gave him a knowing look, before clearing his throat.
Oh shit, time for one of his crazy plans.
“You're too blunt, kid. No strategy.”
The demon hunter could swear he heard a chuckle over the comm, which only fed his urge to kick Enzo again.
“That's not how you win a woman. You've to be more smooth, use your natural charms!”
Enzo made a theatrical pause and then murmured, winking towards the glass:
“Besides, if someone can no longer resist your body, then half the victory is in your pocket!”
"What?!"
Dante hated how in sync he and his captor sounded.
“Don't act so innocent, lady! I sent my boy to you all dressed up, and he came back shirtless! The proof is right here!” Enzo declared loudly, unceremoniously poking him in the abs.
“Fucking pervert!”
Dante's thoughts were close, albeit more reserved.
However, he would be lying if he didn't enjoy Lady's frustration. Even in the darkness, he could see the tips of her ears slowly turning red.
Oh, she was mad.
Coincidentally, he immediately noticed that his handcuffs began to vibrate strangely too.
"Um, Enzo, maybe you should stop talking?"
"But I'm getting to the good part!” the broker whispered loudly. “Just stay out of it! She likes you better when you're quiet."
“I think this applies to you too.”
“Err, lieutenant Arkham!
Suddenly a new voice joined the conversation.
The connection cut off immediately, and with it the vibration stopped.
Dante breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that Lady got distracted by her bosses. Maybe at this moment she was reprimanded for bullying the prisoners while on duty.
Serves her right.
"1:0 in our favor!" Enzo beamed, utterly pleased with himself.
Not sharing his enthusiasm, the demon hunter gave him a tired look.
“If your goal was to piss Lady off, then yes, you succeeded, congrats.”
“Ah, youth!” Enzo shook his head, nudging him lightly. “I'm just playing with contrasts. So she'll start to like you even better!”
“Sure, because she calls me a demon out of pure love,” Dante rolled his eyes, too tired to argue.
“Demons, vampires, werewolves, these chicks dig the mysterious bad guys!” the man continued, refusing to read the room. “Just play it right and maybe she'll leave Uncle Sam for you, settling us both free!”
“You watch too many movies, Enzo.”
Dante sighed, glancing at their captor again. It was hard to tell from the top of her head alone, but Lady seemed surprisingly tense. If he hadn't known better, he would have assumed she was upset. Maybe Enzo's words had made her uncomfortable after all.
Whatever. Her feelings are the last thing I have to care about.
He looked down. His bare chest felt even more naked without his necklace. And that was something he shouldn't easily forgive.
***
"Lieutenant Arkham!"
Mary jolted, still feeling the treacherous heat on her cheeks.
She couldn't remember the last time she had lost her temper that badly. But implying that she got hots for this… thing! She could barely contain her disgust.
“Cocky bastards…”
“Excuse me?”
Baines' secretary stared back at her from the screen. A trace of fake smile on her lips.
Mary immediately straightened up, regaining the mask of her casual professionalism. After exchanging formal greetings, they got down to business.
“We've received your mission report. Mr. Vice-President is currently busy with negotiations, but he'll contact you in an hour for a personal briefing. He asked to clarify the status of the prisoners.”
Mary raised a brow. She was confident her report was comprehensive enough. However, it seemed Baines was just as interested in the living trophies as he was in the secured amulet.
“Both prisoners are awake now. Ready for interrogation.”
Feeling too fucking comfortable.
“Good. But what happened to the demon asset?”
“What about him?” Mary's gaze darted back to the camera, but Dante seemed unmoving.
In fact, it looked like he was napping. His head tilted to the side, silver locks falling over the shoulder, giving a good look at his soft peaceful expression.
What a deceptive innocence…
“He’s half naked.”
The secretary pointed out in a matter-of-fact tone.
Blood rushed back to Mary's face.
The proof is right here!
Enzo's outrageous accusations sing-songed in her ears.
"He lost his shirt..." she swallowed, already realizing how stupid it sounded. "In a fight."
"I see," The woman smiled politely, no smile in her eyes. "But we can't allow the vice president to talk to someone who looks so... indecent."
He's a demon! Who gives a damn how he looks!
Mary's urge to tell the secretary some indecent words grew stronger with each passing second, but instead she bit her lip. Hard.
Baines might question why Dante was flashing him indeed. She couldn't deny this possibility. And if he asked, that short scumbag would definitely blurt out something inappropriate. Something that could tarnish her reputation in the eyes of the vice president.
Yes, Baines had witnessed her methods before. But if he began to doubt her because of this, thinking she was some kind of freak who enjoys taking demons out in more than one sense of the word... No, she couldn't let that happen!
“Understood. Next time you'll contact us the prisoner will be in better condition.”
“We're counting on you, Lieutenant!" the secretary nodded and disconnected.
A loud groan escaped her lips.
Mary couldn't miss the thousand questions flashing across Anders' face, but he tactfully looked away, completely focused on the traffic. For that, she was grateful.
She quickly measured him with her eyes. No, giving Dante his shirt wasn't an option. The hybrid was broader in the shoulders. And the Darkcom blue would look ridiculous with his red cloak.
Speaking of the cloak... Mary shook her head, realizing that she didn't consider the easiest solution.
“Keep watching the road!” she barked to regain some authority. “I'll check on the prisoners.”
Anders just nervously nodded, gripping the wheel tighter.
***
Through lowered eyelashes, Dante stared intently at the slowly turning handle. A scene straight up from a horror movie. B-grade, probably. He was a bad actor, after all. Instead of cold fear, his body only felt a surge of adrenaline, evoked by a new challenge.
Should he strike now or wait a bit? Knowing this Lady, she would never come empty-handed.
It would be reckless to attack her directly, unarmed and with his limited mobility. No, he won't give her another chance to gloat over his lack of intelligence. Thus, Dante decided to bide his time.
But watching her carefully creep towards him and keeping a straight face was harder than he thought. The hunter could barely suppress a smile.
Her gun pointed at him, her sharp gaze glued to his features. She was adorably demanding.
It all resembled an innocent child's game, a mixture of excitement and patience, one he would have happily indulged in if only the weapon in her hands hadn't caused so much trouble.
“Get up, you asshole!” her rough voice finally broke the silence. “I know you're awake.”
In response, he just yawned lazily. Not generous enough to spare her a look.
“You kept me up all night, Lady. Have some mercy.”
“As if it affected you anyhow.”
Fair point.
Finally shifting his focus, Dante couldn't help but spot dark circles under her eyes. She was clearly tired after their nighttime rendezvous on the rooftops. A small victory in his book.
Lady frowned at his smirk, but didn't say a word. Instead her glance slid down his torso. Catching her sudden interest, Dante almost whistled. He'd mostly joked about being an irresistible dreamboat, but it seemed that his bragging had hit home for once.
“Enjoying the view?”
She scoffed.
“Just stand up and stay still. If you don't want to taste another dose of volts.”
“Aren’t you too bossy?”
This was the second time Lady made him genuinely confused. Her free hand reached out to his chest, and he felt a déjà vu, freezing stupidly again. The memory of pleasant sensation was still fresh in his mind. Just as a bitter aftertaste of her next action.
“My hands are tied, but I'm warning you,” his raspy voice sounded more guarded than he expected. “Don't toy with me, Lady.”
For a mere second something shifted in her gaze. Not fear of intimidation, no. Something almost apologetic flashed deep in her eyes. But then the steel quickly returned.
“You're the one who's messing me,” she huffed in irritation, grabbing the sides of his coat.
He nearly lost his balance when she yanked him toward her. But Lady didn't stop there. Straining every muscle, she tugged, trying to close the scarlet fabric around his chest. But her efforts were futile; the old material only cracked under the merciless pressure.
“Whoaa, what the hell, Lady?!” Dante yelped, his voice one octave higher than usual. “Stop destroying my wardrobe!”
“Why. Isn't. It. Closing?!” she panted, ignoring his protest.
“Because it never did? See, there's no zipper!”
Regaining some dignity, he almost laughed, spotting her flushed face.
“Who the fuck wears clothes that can't be even fastened?!”
“Someone who doesn't expect their shirt to be torn to pieces, I guess.”
Lady stepped back, still red, but his sarcastic tone didn't help. The next moment her gun was gently pressed to his collarbone.
“I swear, if your demon tits gonna end my career!”
Dante choked at her audacity.
“Excuse me, I'm the victim here!”
But before he could say anything else to get Lady to pull the trigger, a grumble came from the corner:
“Get a room, kids! Someone's trying to sleep here!”
Ah, yeah, Enzo was still here. Awkward…
For once Lady seemed to share his feelings. Meeting her eyes, the demon hunter cleared his throat and offered a temporary truce.
“Anyway, why do you fuss?” still it was hard to resist one more jab. “Too much for you to handle?”
“You wish, Hellblood.”
Despite her words, Lady lowered her gun. Just a little.
“The Vice-President wants to talk to you. And I guess his circle is still old-fashioned enough to request a dress code for the meeting.”
“Well, I'm honored,” Dante shrugged, not feeling any enthusiasm. “Just tell them that, as a wild and uncultured demon, I reject all human norms.”
Lady's eyes widened, and for a moment he thought she was seriously considering this scenario.
“Hey, it's a joke!”
“Really? Maybe you're finally slipping?” her plump lips broke into a shameless smile.
Dante cursed under his breath. It seemed that his opponent fully regained her composure and was eager to drive him mad again.
“Whatever. You're the one who put me in this awkward situation. And I've no reason to cover for you,” he bit back, savoring how quickly her smugness had vanished.
“So, be an adult and take responsibility, Lady!”
“Fine.”
She sighed in defeat.
“Who was counting on your cooperation anyway.”
“Cooperation?” Dante snorted. “I thought you were above deals with the devil.”
He didn't want to sound like a broken record, dwelling on her wild delusions, but the contradiction in her logic might finally get the point across. If only Lady were less stubborn and could see-
Not like her opinion mattered. It was just annoying.
And so she was now.
“Oh, I am,” she whispered, leaning closer to his face, her voice poisonous again. “I don't trust a single fucking word you say.”
Her mismatched eyes looked right into his soul, cold and unwavering:
“Maybe it would be better if Baines never had the chance to talk to you. Safer for everyone.”
An unpleasant chill ran down his spine. Dante quickly gritted his teeth. No matter what she tried to force on him, he knew himself better.
And he figured out some things about her too.
“Gonna chew through your leash?” a daring smirk crossed his lips.
Jackpot. Her burning glare was louder than words.
“No, just put you on one. For now.”
Suddenly Dante felt the grip on his wrists shift. With a metallic clank the handcuffs had turned into two separate bracelets, finally allowing him to pull his arms apart. Despite the newfound freedom his muscles still felt terribly limp. For some reason, his strength hadn't returned at all.
“Hurry up!” an iron hand grabbed his elbow.
Lady, now armored with a shiny glove, pressed her fingers to his veins. And Dante figured he didn't want to know what this measure was for.
“We're going for a walk.”
***
How to recognize a demon?
A look into their eyes is enough. Dark and empty. A void where the glimmer of a soul should be.
This observation never failed her before. But every rule is bound to find an exception. Sooner or later.
Mary frowned. She was going insane. The whole stunt she was currently pulling could cost her everything she'd spent years working on. Risk everything and for what?
For a demon with a dangerously human appearance. His eyes weren't dead. She saw his anger, his confusion, his irritating joy and, worst of all, his pain.
She wished it were just a physical one. Demons’ agony was music to her ears. But it was different, much deeper, much more familiar. Every time she called him a demon his face twisted and he looked vulnerable, betrayed, almost hurt, just for a second before breaking into a grin again.
Mary hated how natural it looked. And she hated herself for almost falling for it.
“Earth to Lady!”
His voice brought her out of her thoughts.
Dante, the bane of her existence, stood nonchalantly, five shirts draped over his arm. Only now did she realize they've reached the fitting rooms.
“You're not going to let go of me, are you?”
“Don't make it sound like I have a choice,” she groaned, pulling him into the booth.
Her nape burned, feeling the saleswoman's disapproving gaze.
Their entire expedition was already worthy of becoming the subject of shameful reflections that usually come flooding back before sleep.
First, Mary had to keep a straight face when she ordered Anders to stop at the nearest thrift shop. Sure, it would've been much easier to send him shopping and leave the prisoners inside the van. And maybe that's what she would've done if Ninja, King, Sentry, or Patriot had been with her — people she could trust. But this scaredy-cat still had to prove his worth to her.
Besides, it turned out Dante didn't even know his size.
He's messing with me, he certainly does it on purpose, this damn demon!
The prisoners were her responsibility. Of course, she'd calculated all the risks. Luckily, the cuffs could change shape, adapting to something less likely to attract civilian attention. Being not particularly bright, the poor Hellblood still didn't realize that the trick lay not in their weight, but in the paralyzing injection into his skin. He would be unable to swing his arms for some time.
But even that wasn't enough. Mary saw his unholy strength and understood that even his numb limbs wouldn't stop him. That's why she had no choice but to cling so tightly, earning suspicious glances. The glove on her hand, when activated, released an electric zap like the taser she'd used to knock him out earlier.
Despite all these precautions, Mary couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking with a ticking time bomb by her side. At any moment, she expected a snap. But for some reason, Dante wasn't in a hurry to escape, focusing exclusively on the shirt's selection and constantly complaining about his sore arms. Perhaps he wasn't even bluffing: Mary felt him leaning on her more and more with every step. The chemicals were kicking in.
Too bad, her attempt to disassociate from the absurdity of the situation backfired completely when they ended up face to face in the confined space of the booth. The narrow fitting room was clearly designed for one person, and one of a modest build, rather than a broad-shouldered, over 6 feet tall demon in the company of her bulky armor. Simply put, Mary found herself almost pressed against the mirror, Dante towering over her with a smirk.
“Since you've decided to enjoy the show from the front row, holding my arm hostage, I'm going to need your help,” he winked innocently.
Mary instantly unclenched her fingers. Pulling out her gun and jamming it into his chest felt like a habit at this point.
Luckily, there were no cameras in the changing room, so her actions shouldn't have shocked the woman behind the cash register.
"You'll manage," the gun nudged him lightly. "Now your hands are free, so be a big boy and dress yourself.”
“But Lady! I can't even lift my arms!” despite the tragic tone, he was clearly enjoying himself. “I’d like to give my best, but I’m afraid we’re going be late for tea with the Vice President!”
“You, smartass,” she tsked.
Sadly, she knew he was right.
“Stand still. Don't fucking move or I'll put a bullet in your skull.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got the memo.”
Without taking her gun off him, Mary shoved him towards the mirror. He grinned carelessly, puffing out his chest to admire his reflection.
Self-absorbed narcissist…
She yanked his stupid cloak hard, freeing his shoulders. Trying not to be distracted by the exposed biceps, Mary mechanically continued her task, breathing a sigh of relief as the handcuffs managed to slip through the sleeves. Then she looked up again.
And immediately regretted it.
Of course, she'd already seen his chest and six-pack in all their glory. But now, as he stood with a fully exposed torso in front of the mirror, Mary simply couldn't tear her eyes off. There was something insanely inhuman about that smooth, marble-like skin covering his sculpted muscles. Not a single scar, not a single bruise, not even a scratch. But she knew that behind that perfect, glossy appearance lay a long history, an experience no human could ever live through.
“You're staring.”
For once there was no provocation in his voice.
“I was just wondering,” she bit her lip, refusing to meet his eyes. “How fast do you heal?”
Her fingers ran over the pile of shirts unceremoniously tossed in the corner and settled on a dark gray material. It was darker than the one she'd ripped, but she thought the color would suit him nicely.
“Wanna test something on me?”
She froze mid-step, pressing the shirt against his broad back.
Long-suppressed memories flashed before her eyes.
Screams, the suffocating smell of chemicals, the glint of a needle. And two burning eyes.
Her fingers trembled.
“Turn around and bend over.”
“I don't like where this is going.”
He chuckled but followed her lead.
She fumbled with his arms longer than necessary. A strange tremor still gripped her movements. Finally, when Dante stumbled forward, trustingly offering his head so that she could pull the shirt around his neck, Mary couldn't take it anymore.
“I hate experiments.”
He looked at her through his disheveled bangs.
“But you hate demons more.”
An unspoken question lay deep in his sad ocean eyes. It wasn't difficult for Mary to read his plea. Just a simple, reassuring denial was enough. But she couldn't give him the answer he so desperately craved.
“Don't take it personally.”
I just hate everything you represent.
“Well, that's my line.”
And in the next moment, Mary felt the floor yanked from under her feet.
***
Enzo humbly considered himself a man in his prime. Charismatic and courteous, he easily gained favor of the fair sex. No wonder the entire plan hinged on his irresistible charm.
“So, tell me, Susan, how is your business going?” he asked sympathetically, checking the name tag.
But Susan's eyes were glued to the fitting room the young couple had just dived into. Judging by her furrowed brows, she clearly suspected something.
Enzo gulped and glanced at the door. Now that everyone had forgotten about his presence, it would be so easy to escape.
But I can't leave the kid on his own! He's hopeless without me!
Enzo vigorously nodded, feeling a surge of pride in his paternal devotion. And no, his noble decision wasn't influenced by Lady's warning at all!
A sniper from a nearby rooftop would shoot him down if he tried to escape, huh?! She was totally bluffing! What nonsense!
But Enzo wasn't eager to test it. Unlike Dante, his skin definitely wasn't bulletproof.
The boy was something when it comes to action. Just not with ladies. Or with anyone else, really.
He clearly needed more time and Enzo had no choice but to buy it, praying that the intimate atmosphere of the booth and the undressing process would do the trick.
"Does she always follow him around?" Susan muttered. "That's not normal."
"Oh, you see, my future daughter-in-law is a very jealous woman!" Enzo spread out his hands, finally winning her attention. "But we can't blame her! You saw my boy! If she won't stay on guard, someone like him would be stolen right out of the room!”
"Your... son," the saleswoman looked at him funnily, as if doubting their kinship. "He seems like a rebellious soul. Forgive my bluntness, but walking around shirtless is quite bold. No wonder his girlfriend finally decided to put a stop to it. At your expense.”
"Oh no, usually he looks like a very respectable young man!" Enzo leaned toward her, whispering conspiratorially. "I'll be honest with you, his current appearance is the result of a particularly active night.”
Susan blushed to the roots of her hair.
"And now we're in a terrible hurry, so please bear with us."
“Of course, I understand. Young people nowa-”
The sound of shattering glass cut her off mid-sentence. Susan jumped to her feet. But before she could take a step, something heavy slammed into the wall of the fitting room and a loud curse filled the air.
“Motherfucker!”
Enzo's eyes widened in horror.
It seemed Dante's approach had been a little too forceful.
Without thinking, he grabbed Susan's elbow and blurted out into her frightened face:
"Ah, excuse me, signora! It seems they are at it again!”
"W-what?!"
The saleswoman was on the verge of fainting.
"Don't worry, we'll pay for damage! Just don't go near them now!”
Another crash shook the walls.
“It's life-threatening!"
“Stay still, Lady!” a loud groan followed the crackle of the curtain. “Hey, that’s a low blow!”
“Fuck off!”
“Hell no! I'm taking you hostage till you guys return me my-”
But before Enzo could hear the end of the quarrel, he realized Susan had freed herself from his grip and, pale as a sheet, was reaching for the phone. The man squeaked and rushed towards her.
“Wait-wait-wait, dear, I swear, they're just very passionate about roleplaying!”
“I'm calling the cops!”
“But they're already in the room!”
The curtain finally gave up and tore down. With a dull thud, the two intertwined bodies collided with the floor.
Enzo squinched his eyes shut.
When he regained some courage to open them back, Lady, covered by a red coat, disheveled and with a bruised eyebrow, stared at him bewildered. Her gloved hand pressed against Dante's face. He lay stretched out beneath her, showing no signs of life.
Enzo silently offered a prayer.
“Shopping's over.”
Breathing heavily, the girl rose to her feet. For a moment, it seemed she was fighting an urge to kick Dante. But then she cast a look at his face, groaned and bent down to lift the lifeless man from the floor. To Enzo's surprise, this time the shirt was still intact.
“Pay and get in the car!“ placing the body across her shoulders in a fireman's carry, Lady grunted. “And don't you dare try anything funny!”
“Yes, ma'am!”
With trembling hands, Enzo counted out the required amount, adding a small fee for the mess.
"This girl is a monster!"
Susan hissed hysterically, not even noticing his generosity.
“Well-”
The broker glanced at the couple leaving the store. Accompanied by the soft ringing of the bell, Lady was frantically struggling with the door, trying to squeeze through the narrow opening with the big weight on her back. Enzo didn't miss the way she carefully ducked to avoid slamming Dante's head into the doorframe.
What a woman…
“My son has a very specific taste.”
Dante always complained about the tedium of his daily routine. But with such a Lady… Enzo was willing to bet his last savings that his boy would never be bored again.