...and then she glared at me, the same glare my stepmother used to give me when I gave her the Nazi salute. That woman was so touchy about her resemblance to Hitler.

After searching for a space, I parked behind the tattoo parlor in front of a sign that said NO PARKING. Since it didn't specify to whom it was referring, I figured it couldn't possibly be talking to me.

He had given me so much information, I wanted some time to absorb it all, but I didn't want to leave him. Not like this. Not ever, as long as I lived. Or until I had to get back on the case. Whichever came first.

Rocket," I said, straightening in the chair. "Donovan was just helping me with my contacts." Donovan raised his brows humorously. Rocket furrowed his. "Did you swallow them?

I have three words for you," EMT Guy said. "Possible internal bleeding." I turned back to him. "Don't you think if I was bleeding internally, I'd know somewhere deep inside? Like, internally?

For one week, all I could think about was drinking margaritas--well, that and running my tongue along Reyes's teeth--but I didn't have salt--or Reyes's teeth. I'd also lacked the energy to leave my apartment to get some--or the desire to stoop low enough to beg Reyes to let me lick his teeth after what he did--so I could only wish for a margarita. And dream of Reyes's teeth. I'd secretly hoped a margarita would magically appear in my hand, but that would mean I would have to put down the remote, and God knew that was not going to happen.

Just in case, though, I stormed into my apartment, tossed a quick hello to Mr. Wong, then rummaged through my entertainment center to lay out all my exorcism equipment. I kept it in my entertainment center because exorcisms were nothing if not entertaining.