“Kaidan Rowe?” asks the man solemnly.

“Yes. That’s me.” I climb into the cab and show the driver my address on my ID so he knows where to go.

“I’m terribly sorry to have to tell you this, son, but your father had a heart attack at home early this morning or possibly during the night. One of his employees found him and called nine-one-one, but it was too late at that point. I’m very sorry. Your father is gone.”

What? Was this planned? I am gripping the phone and staring blankly at the city as it passes by the windows.

“Um . . .” I need to say something. “But, he was so . . . healthy.”

Lame. My shock is real, but it’s hard to fake grief.

“Yes, he did appear to be quite healthy. I know this must be difficult. We’re doing a full autopsy to see for certain what the cause of death was.”

I can tell them the cause—a demon leaving a body equals death of said body.

My eyes dart around the skies. I’ve no clue what Father looks like in spirit form. Or where his next duty station will be, if this is his changing of the guard. Nice of him to clue me in that this madness would be happening.

The doctor clears his throat. “Do you have family or anyone you can call for help? There’s quite a bit you’ll need to look into right away, son. It can be overwhelming. I’d recommend contacting his lawyer first, to see if he has a will with instructions, and an insurance policy.”

“Oh, er, yes.” I sniff loudly. “I’ll do that. Thank you. Thank you for your help.”

I hang up and glare out the window. Bloody hell. This is just what I need. I’ve no idea who Father’s lawyer is or where to begin. I let my head fall back onto the seat as we weave in and out of traffic on the highway, slamming on the brakes and racing forward again, then coming to another dead stop. Damned L.A. traffic.

My apartment feels like an abandoned place where I don’t belong. It’s depressing without Anna. For the second day in a row, I open the freezer and stare at the meals she made for me. I don’t want to eat them, because then they’ll be gone and I won’t be able to gaze at them like a bloody sap anymore.

I can imagine her indignant face if she finds out I’m not eating the food she prepared—her little fists on her hips, scolding me with that accent. Most likely naked. I grin at the imaginary Anna. Okay, I’ll eat them. Eventually. One a week, perhaps.

We’ll see.

I pace the kitchen and living room. I have practice tonight with the band, so that’ll be good. I need distractions, to keep me busy. Hopefully Anna Malone won’t be there.

I want the drama over with. I told everyone at work that my father died and I’d have to fly to Georgia for a few days. Thankfully that put them off from questioning my love life for the moment.

The lawyer rang me yesterday, saying he’d been instructed to contact me if anything ever happened to Father. His Atlanta estate is to be sold, Father’s body is to be cremated, and the insurance policy will cash out. As Richard Rowe’s only known family member and heir, I will be receiving the entire “sizable” payout. The lawyer used the word “sizable” several times.

Thing is, I won’t get to keep all that. Father will need the fortune to live his next life in style. I’ll get my cut, and then I’m on my own. Financially. But I’ll always answer to him.

I wish I knew where he was. The only good thing is that it takes quite a while to find a new body. At least that’s what I’ve heard. The Dukes are right picky. Father won’t be able to sniff Anna out if he doesn’t have a nose, so I don’t have to worry about him going after her just yet.

Belial told Anna to go on to college like she’d planned, and pretend to work. He thinks staying on the run will look too suspicious for her. Now that she’s not a virgin, Belial is hoping the Dukes will second-guess themselves.

I worry about Belial’s assumptions, but he’s known the other Dukes a bloody long time. I hope he knows their behaviors well enough not to put Anna’s neck on the line.

I shut the freezer door and order out for Thai. I hate standing around waiting and worrying like a useless git. In two days I’ll fly to Georgia to sign estate paperwork and retrieve Father’s remains, which are going straight down a toilet at the dodgiest petrol station I can find. But at least I’ll be in the east, on the go.

I slump onto my leather couch and grab a pad of paper and a pen, ready to scratch out some lyrics.

And then my mobile dings with a text.

It’s a picture from Anna. That’s strange. I open it and stare.

And stare some more.

Fucking hell, little Ann.

I ogle a picture of her tangled in a sheet, a knee up; her hip, thigh, and arse showing beautifully against a scrap of black fabric that hardly qualifies as knickers.

A low, long groan erupts from my throat.

She’s too sexy. It hurts to look at it, but I can’t stop. She’s too bloody far away. Why, why, why? My hands shake as I type.

OH GOD.

I stare. I type. What r u doing to me??

I am gobsmacked. I can’t believe u took a pic.

I stare. I cram my hand into my hair and pull. CANNOT STOP STARING.

Too much sexy. I can’t even . . . Just wait little vixen.

I fall over on the couch. F me. Ur so fn hot.

I think I might die here, a lump of lust. Ur in serious trouble when I see u again.

I stare. Serious. Trouble. I curl into a ball of pain and die.

A moment later my mobile chirps in my dead hand. I open it with trepidation. Thankfully it’s only words, and not more skin I’m not able to touch.