I barked out a laugh. “In the same way Bill Clinton didn’t have sex with that woman?”

He looked at me now, anger flashing in his eyes. But he must have been feeling really crummy, because he didn’t lash out at me. “Let me rephrase that more emphatically—nothing of a sexual nature happened. I don’t go to Hell for the sex.”

I thought about that a moment and realized I understood what he was saying even though he wasn’t willing to put the whole ugly truth into words. “You go there so you can get your rocks off torturing demons in a way Dominic could never handle now that Saul is gone.”

“It’s not about sex!” Adam insisted, loudly enough that a couple of passersby turned to look. Adam caught the eye of the most blatant of them and snarled. The Goth chick lowered her pierced eyebrow and looked quickly away.

Once upon a time, I’d allowed Adam to “play” with me, to satisfy his lust for pain in return for his aid in rescuing Brian. I remembered all too well the feel of his body pressing against my back as he bound my hands above my head.

“I’ve had up-close-and-personal experience,” I snapped in a furious undertone. “I know—”

“You know nothing!” he interrupted.

I stopped, unable to keep walking casually down the sidewalk while simultaneously fighting Adam and my insidious memories. Adam stopped, too, crowding into my personal space and glaring down at me. I matched him glare for glare.

“I felt how you reacted, you asshole,” I said, poking him in the chest for emphasis.

He grabbed my wrist and wrenched it painfully downward. I suppressed a cry of protest, afraid he’d enjoy it too much. “I told you, it was a conditioned response, not true sexual desire. I have no interest in fucking anyone but Dom.”

My eyes started to water from the pain as his hand closed ever more tightly on my wrist, but I didn’t back down. “And would Dom see it that way if he knew what you were up to?”

I knew I’d read the guilt in his eyes correctly when he suddenly shoved me away from him, hard. My back slammed into a metal grille that protected a plate-glass window advertising Tarot readings and “spiritual advice.” The air whooshed out of my lungs, and my knees buckled beneath me. Apparently, this was my week for being beat up by my supposed allies.

My ass landed on the pavement with a teeth-clacking thump, and for half a second I thought I was going to pass out. Then I managed to drag some air into my lungs, and I realized I would stay wide awake so I could feel the bruises as they began to spring up all over my back. I wondered if they’d make a diamond-shaped design to match the grille that created them.

Adam did another of his intimidating glares at the passersby, and when one didn’t take the hint, he pulled his badge. That caused the crowd to disperse in a hurry, so Adam was able to focus his attention on me once more. He came to squat in front of me, and there was no apology in his eyes.

“You’d better not say a goddamn thing to Dom about this,” he growled. “He might understand. My host thinks he would. But I’m not willing to risk hurting him.”

I swallowed my impulse to ask him what exactly he would do to me if I told Dom. As I knew from personal experience, he could do any number of awful things to me without killing me, and since Lugh could fix me right up, he’d probably even get away with it. Instead, I met his eyes and asked him a question he had every reason to think was purely hypothetical.

“So if you could get Saul back into Dom’s body, would you do it?”

“No!” he answered with gratifying speed. “I like Saul. He’s my friend, and has been for centuries. We enjoyed ourselves immensely walking the Mortal Plain together, and I’ll see him again when my time on the Mortal Plain is up.” He swallowed hard. “But I love Dominic, and he won’t be waiting for me in the Demon Realm. I don’t want to risk hurting him. It has nothing to do with covering my own ass.”

This was as candid as I’d ever seen Adam, and there was no longer any doubt in my mind that what I saw in his eyes was indeed vulnerability. The only strong emotion I’d ever seen from him before was fury. This was a whole different side to him, one I wasn’t sure I wanted to see. Not with the message Lugh had tasked me with delivering.

I let out a long sigh, and my voice when I spoke was devoid of the judgmental overtones that had filled it before. “Can we go somewhere more comfortable? We need to talk.”

Adam blinked as though surprised by what must have sounded almost like capitulation. Then he nodded briskly and rose to his feet, offering me a hand up. Internally wincing in case he should squeeze as hard as he had before, I took his hand and let him drag me to my feet. A quick glance at the grille showed me a Morgan-sized indentation in the middle. It looked like I was lucky not to have any broken bones.

Adam stuffed his hands back into his pockets and continued down the street. I supposed I had no choice but to follow.

“Are you going to tell Dom?” he asked.

I let out my breath with a whoosh. “No.” I didn’t want to hurt Dom any more than Adam did.

He slanted a look at me. “Are you sure?”

It was tempting to snap out a yes, but I knew exactly what he was asking, and it was a fair question. No, I didn’t plan to tell Dominic anything. But sometimes my mouth had a tendency to run away with me, especially when my temper was roused. Might I let something slip in a moment of anger? I had the uneasy suspicion the answer was yes.

“You should tell him yourself,” I said instead of answering the question. “There are ways he can find out other than me blabbing, and they’d all make you look far worse than you would if you just fessed up.” Adam shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

I shrugged. “Then maybe you should stop going to the goddamn club. That idea ever occurred to you?”

Adam stopped in front of a café that billed itself as a teahouse, then pushed the door open and gestured me in. It seemed as good a place as any to talk, so I stepped inside.

It was pleasantly quiet, with the scream of the cappuccino machine the only exception. New Age music played softly on the speaker system, and though the place was hardly empty, it wasn’t exactly hopping, either. Most of the people inside looked like tourists, here to take in the sights of South Street but needing a break from the craziness every once in a while.

There were tables set up in the middle of the café, with a long bar lined with stools against one wall, and cozy arrangements of easy chairs in each corner. One of those corners was empty, and Adam and I made a beeline.

“What can I get you?” he asked, indicating the line at the counter.

“Just sit down.”

He pointed at a sign that informed us the seating areas were for customers only, then repeated the question. He could probably pull his badge and the staff would be happy to let us sit there without buying anything, but maybe we both needed a couple minutes to cool down.

“Just plain coffee,” I finally said. When I leaned into the soft chair, my back informed me that the bruises were well on their way to setting in.

Adam came back before I was ready to face him again, but then that would probably have been true if he were gone for an hour. He laid my coffee, along with one cream and two sugars, on the end table between our chairs. From the scent that wafted over to me from his cup, I gathered he was drinking mint tea himself. It seemed a strange choice for a tough guy, but then people thought the froufrou drinks I ordered at bars were strange for a tough broad with a tattoo and multiple ear piercings, so who was I to judge?

Adam took a sip of his tea as I began doctoring my coffee. When I was finished, I leaned back into the chair—more carefully this time—and waited for him to say something. It didn’t take long.

“I don’t want to hurt Dom,” he said, staring into his tea.