Page 6 of Devil Inside: Green

“I punched a boy in the face for doing that,” I reply. “Do you know Green called me a ‘cheerleader?’ And a ‘sorority sister?’ Do I look like a cheerleader?”

Both Aja and Dusty laugh. “Sorry, girl.” Dusty wipes at her eyes. “You totally do.”

Iharrumph. How am I going to catch The Bible Belt Killer if he thinks I’m a cheerleader? I have to get in close enough. Looking all sweet and innocent isn’t going to get me in close.

“I need one of those Sandy makeovers,” I blurt out and both women look at me like I’ve grown horns out of my head.

“A what?” Aja asks.

“A Sandy makeover. Haven’t you seenGrease?”

“No,” she answers. Who hasn’t seenGrease? It’s a classic. A staple of American culture.

“I’ve seen it,” Dusty answers. “The movie and the musical.”

“Technically, the movieisa musical,” I point out.

She rumples her face at me. “The movie and the live theatrical performance. That better?”

“Can someone please tell me what a ‘Sandy makeover’ is?” Aja asks.

“Sandy is the lead in the movie. She’s a goody-two-shoes who falls in love with the bad boy and gets a bad girl makeover to fit more in his world.”

“You want to fit into Green’s world?” Aja absently runs her hand over her belly. “I don’t want to pop your balloon here, but I don’t know that he’s ready for that.”

“No—I don’t want Green, but I do think I should fit in here a little better.”

“Look at me.” Dusty gestures up and down her body. “This is who I am.” Dusty dresses chic and cool, but not like the old lady of a biker. Tonight she has on a thin taupe sweater that exposes both of her shoulders, painted-on leather leggings, and these super-hot booties. Gold hoops in her ears and a black, leather ribbon choker tied in a bow at her neck. No one who saw her would suspect she’d tied her life to Reaper.

She doesn’t get it. Neither of them does. I almost make the monumental mistake of blurting out my plan. At the last moment, I say, “This just doesn’t feel like who I am any longer. I’m no cheerleader.”

Both of the women show me sympathetic, sad eyes. “I think I’m going to head out now.” What I need is to talk to Green. I’d been given the low-down on why Green had gotten himself locked up. A DUI born from the grief of losing his woman to the same man who took my mom from me. If anyone could understand where my head is at, it’d be him. So he doesn’t like me, I’ve faced worse challenges in my life, obviously. We don’t need to be friends to catch a killer. I bet I could talk him into working with me. Now that I think about it, bringing Green on seems like the smartest plan I’ve had thus far. But how do I do that with all these people around?

“You don’t have to do that,” Aja says.

I shrug. “I’ve got stuff to think about. Thanks for inviting me.” I set my bottle on the bar, giving both Aja and Dusty a pat on their arms as I pass them, heading for the door.

There’s a nip in the air tonight. I wish I’d worn a jacket. I wish I’d brought a jacket with me from home. I walk to my car, but even with the chill, it’s too pretty to climb inside. The moon hangs huge and gleaming white right above my head, and there are about a zillion stars in the sky. I’d be a fool to shut out this view so soon. I climb onto the hood of my car. My mother loved clear nights like this, not that we got too many of them living in a city. The street lights and homes and businesses often drowned them out.

Despite how strong I try to be, out here, alone and thinking about my mom, the tears start to spill down my cheeks. I feel so close to finding him—the bastard who took her from me—yet so far away. He has to pay. Hehasto. How many lives has he already ruined? How many will he continue to ruin?

“The fuck you still doing here?”

I whip my head up to face the voice.Shit. Hisvoice. I wipe vigorously at my face, but none of it helps when he steps right up to my car.

“You crying?”

“Wow, super genius, how observant of you,” I reply flippantly.

Rather than get angry at my quip, he chuckles.Chuckles. Then his face sobers. “Did I hurt your feelings in there? I was an ass.”

“You were an ass. But no. This–”—I point to my face—“has nothing to do with you. I was just thinking about this beautiful night and how my mom would’ve loved it.”

“Lost your mom?”

“A year ago now.”

“How’d you lose her?”

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