Free Demon Marked by Anna J. Evans

voice giving away that he was on his way to pick up a dead body, but Andre knew he’d understood the code phrase.
    The very idea that he’d really call Michael to “pick up the laundry” was ludicrous. The Contis owned a chain of laundry services, the better to “launder” some of the profits from the family’s extracurricular activities.
    â€œOh, and on your way, could you stop by the Demon’s Breath? I think they left a few things out back that they need washed up.” Andre would usually e-mail the location of a corpse to Mikey in code, but he figured his cousin would get the message.
    And if the police were listening in on the phone call, they wouldn’t be suspicious. It was common knowledge that the Demon’s Breath was now considered a Conti business, though Samantha Quinn was the owner on paper.
    â€œNo problem.” Michael’s voice was muffled for a second. He was probably pulling on clothes without bothering to shower after his long night. Speed was paramount. The body had been behind the pub for more than an hour. It was time to make sure this mess was taken care of before any Death Ministry came sniffing around and complicated an otherwise easily handled situation.
    Mikey was a pro. He’d collect the corpse, transport it to one of his secret dumping places near the river, and make certain the entire thing was consumed whole by one of the water-dwelling demons. Andre had heard rumors that Mikey had some sort of spice rub he worked into dead skin to make the flesh irresistible to the amphibious demons haunting the waters near the old East River Park. He’d never asked whether the rumor was true. Some things were just too much for a sensitive lawyer’s stomach to handle.
    â€œThe bar’s right down the street from my place,” Michael continued. “I’ll call Little Francis and—”
    â€œNo, don’t worry about calling Little F,” Andre said, keeping the words casual. “I’m headed over to the office later today; I’ll let him know you’ll be in late. But I won’t tell him about the laundry thing; wouldn’t want him to think he can get you to do all his errands, too.”
    Uncle Francis had been out of town on business for two weeks, and in his absence Conti Bounty had been under the thumb of Little Francis, his uncle’s oldest son and a man who needed a hobby in a bad way. Little F was a decent guy, but he had a tendency to micromanage, a habit that crawled up the asses of most of the Conti Bounty hunters, especially his little brother, Mikey.
    â€œSounds good to me. I hate errands,” Michael said, making Andre breathe a little easier. “Call you later.”
    â€œLater.” Andre tapped his earbud, ending the call.
    He’d taken a risk hinting that Mikey should keep this from his brother, but he didn’t want Little Francis losing his cool and calling his dad in a panic. His father was close to finalizing an agreement with the DM leaders—setting a number of demons they could kill per month and arranging to supply them with stun guns that couldn’t be used to kill innocent people. He would definitely lose his cool if he realized they had a dead Death Ministry member on their hands and someone in their organization implicated in the murder. It killed Little F to see Conti Bounty profits sag as more demons fell prey to the Death Ministry and the growing demand for demon highs. He’d want to know who had dirtied their hands and put the agreement at risk, and Andre wasn’t ready to tell him that Emma Quinn was the lady in question.
    What Little Francis didn’t know wouldn’t hurt anyone. Andre would explain the situation to Uncle Francis himself ... when the time was right. Maybe two or three months down the road, once the entire situation had resolved itself and any accompanying angst had blown over.
    It wouldn’t be the first time he’d kept his