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empty. If only the hallway had been too.
    Another long-suffering sigh filled her head.
    You do realize that if you got laid on a regular basis, neither of us would be so cranky. There was a pause. Just sayin’.
    Liza told herself not to react, to stay focused on the task at hand. Getting to Duane Reade’s. Pronto.
    But not for the first time, she did wonder how her life had gotten so messed up. It was bad enough that she had to be possessed by a damned demon. But somehow she’d managed to get taken over by a demon who was gay, bitchy, boy crazy, and sounded remarkably like Uncle Arthur from Bewitched .
    Was it really a mystery why she didn’t get laid?

Chapter Two
    M ichael shifted, willing himself not to tug at his shirt, even as he felt the hem creeping up his abdomen. It didn’t help that the silence in the room was getting absolutely unbearable, but he was determined to remain collected and as dignified as possible. Even essentially wearing a crop top.
    Crop top or no, he didn’t have anything to feel regretful over. After all, he’d only been doing his job. The job he’d been created to do, and he wasn’t going to show a hint of uncertainty or remorse.
    Beside him, Gabriel didn’t feel the same need to remain stoic. He maintained a respectful posture, hands behind his back, shoulders straight, but Michael noticed he kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Subtle, but there. His brethren was nervous—and Michael didn’t think it was for himself. Gabriel expected Michael to get in trouble. Big trouble.
    Damn, he wanted to pull down this ridiculous shirt.
    But he remained still, his gaze meeting his “boss’s” eerie, pale blue stare directly.
    Those eerie eyes were the only extraordinary thing about Eugene, the head of the DIA, the Demon Intelligence Agency. Otherwise, the man who now controlled all demon recognizance looked like any average guy. Average height, average build, nondescript hair, nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever. Except those eyes.
    Michael didn’t know what had happened over the past thirty-three years, but it sure seemed to him like something really odd had to have gone down for this guy to become the head of such a crucial and elite world security agency.
    Another creep of cloth as the tight T-shirt crawled farther up Michael’s midriff.
    Okay, enough of this horrible silence. Just as Michael opened his mouth to speak, Eugene finally stopped his unnerving staring, and simply stated, in a voice that was neither deep nor high, nor loud nor soft-spoken, “I realize you are only recently reunited with your team, and many of the policies have changed, but I do not believe I have to explain to you what a breach of procedure your current action was. I would have thought you’d have known that after I spoke to you about the incident last week.”
    The incident. Michael yet again saw that killing as simply doing his job. But he’d already said that last week. Apparently the DIA didn’t see ridding the world of demons as a part of their job these days. Apparently the DIA just observed them. That would certainly keep humanity safe.
    Irritation filled him, but he squelched it, straightening to his full six foot five. Then he said calmly, “While I do realize things have changed in my absence, I cannot believe that they have changed so much that casting a demon back to Hell is a breach of policy. After all, isn’t that exactly what the DIA was developed to do?”
    Eugene was silent for a moment, then shifted in his seat. He reached for a small black remote on his desk, and the wall behind him flickered to life like a huge television screen.
    For a brief moment, the new—well, new to him—technology startled Michael. But that surprise was quickly lost once he recalled what that screen meant.
    Shit, here we go again. Michael should have just kept his mouth shut.
    “I know we’ve been through the DIA’s objectives, but clearly you still are not understanding,” Eugene said