Tied Bond - Emma Hart Page 0,1
grumbles, getting out and slamming the door. “She said two words and here I am. Keeping the peace, like peace exists in this family.”
I grin. “Hello, Detective. Is there a problem?”
Drake adjusts his belt and hits me with his icy, blue eyes. “You know damn well there’s a problem, Noelle. Or, according to Nonna, there is.” He slides his eyes to Mom, opens his mouth to speak, then throws his arms in the air. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to you, Kellie. I was told by Sheriff Bates that, if I didn’t get my ass down here to sort this out, I’d be on paperwork this week.”
Yeah… Drake and paperwork is like a toddler trying to grab out-of-reach candy. A nightmare.
I share a look with Mom. “You’re gonna have to find somewhere else to put the demons.”
“Can someone please explain to me what’s going on? And, by someone, I mean someone who isn’t totally insane and spewin’ Italian cuss words every five seconds?”
Mom rolls her eyes and hangs Lucifer the motion-sensor demon on the branch behind her. Drake’s eyes flit to the decoration before coming back to her. I bite the inside of my lip to stop myself from laughing.
“She hates demons,” Mom tells him.
“Funny, I figured that out myself,” he drawls.
“Are you sassin’ me, Drake Nash? I will go and tell your mama if you are.”
His back immediately straightens. “No, ma’am. Carry on.”
I put my hand over my mouth and turn away. Damn, I love it when she pulls the mom card on him. Since his mom came back to Holly Woods for six months three weeks ago, he’s been on his best behavior. Saying, “Don’t make me tell your mama,” is a surefire way to get him to hush up.
I’m torn between amusement and swooning each time it happens. He loves his mom to death and respects her just as much, and there’s something about a man who loves his mama…
“She hates my demons,” Mom continues after a moment. “Every year, it’s the same, but this year, she’s on a rampage. And, now, she’s called you! She’s lost her dang mind!”
“You know I have to talk to her, right?” Drake looks between us. “Shit. What the hell is that thing?” he asks, pointing at the demon behind Mom.
“Lucifer,” I answer.
“Lucifer.”
“Yes, Lucifer. He’s mom’s favorite demon decoration.”
“And y’all wonder why your staunchly Catholic, God-lovin’, Jesus-praisin’ Italian grandmother called the police.”
“Uh…yeah. It’s a damn decoration. It’s not gonna come alive in the middle of the night and suck out our souls.”
“You-a don’t-a know that!” Nonna exclaims, appearing in the doorway and waving her cane in our direction.
“Yes, I do,” I say, turning around. “We don’t have souls for it to suck out, Nonna. You already took them.”
“Why-a you-a—!” She comes at me with her cane pointed at me.
I dart behind Drake’s muscular frame and fist the back of his shirt. What? I’m fearless, but I’m not dumb.
“Nonna, maybe put the cane down,” Drake says softly. “Violence doesn’t solve anything.”
Nonna stops and lowers the cane. “You-a take-a the demons away-a?”
“Uh…I can’t take the demons.”
“Why-a not-a?”
“Because there’s nothing illegal about demon decorations on Halloween.”
“Pah! I take-a this-a to-a the mayor! You-a cops!” She turns and stalks back into the house. “You-a soft! In my-a day, they would-a have-a gone!”
“They would have been taken because Nonno was the Sheriff and everyone was scared of you!” I call after her. “No one is afraid anymore!”
“No-a meatballs for-a you-a!” she screams, slamming the front door behind her.
“If PMS were still possible for her…” Mom mutters, turning around and slicing a box open with a letter opener.
“I think I have a migraine.” Drake sighs then spins, wrenching his shirt from my grip. “And, for someone who says she ain’t scared of her, you sure look it.”
“I’m scared of the cane,” I point out. “Not her. I could take her out with one karate chop.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Can you karate-chop?”
“Maybe with my gun.”
“I’d have to arrest you for that.”
If Mom weren’t right here, I’d so be making a comment about handcuffs. He still hasn’t made good on all of those threats. If he doesn’t soon, I might just have to do it to him.
“Now y’all keep that talk for yourselves, thank you,” Mom bursts out like she knows what I’m thinking. “Or I’ll tell your mama, Drake.”
“That’s gonna get real old real quick, Kellie,” Drake replies.
“That isn’t a threat anyway,” I remind her. “She’s been married and divorced three times, Mom. She