Devilishly Sexy Read Free Page A

in his calm, nondescript voice.
    Great. Mind-numbing statistics. Again.
    Eugene pressed a small button on the remote, and a list of the DIA’s goals appeared, bullet-marked and prioritized.
    In that voice that shouldn’t have been objectionable in any way, yet managed to infuriate Michael, Eugene began reading off the list.
    “To protect humanity from the evil powers of the demonic realm.”
    “I believe that is exactly what I was doing,” Michael pointed out, even though he knew it wasn’t proper protocol to interrupt a superior. But frankly, it was hard to see this guy as his superior. Hell, they all called him by his first name. Probably based on another crazy theory that equality would make the team more efficient, or some shit.
    But then when Michael last served the DIA, The Brethren hadn’t had superiors anyway. They’d been considered the most elite of the DIA, and they made their own rules. The Brethren of Slayers had been an entity unto themselves, trusted to do the right thing. The correct and moral thing.
    Now Michael didn’t feel like he was even trusted to dress himself. Gabriel’s T-shirt crept farther up his stomach. Okay, in this brave, crappy new world maybe he couldn’t be.
    Shit.
    “You are still considered our most elite task force,” Eugene stated, his eerie eyes clearly struggling not to look down at Michael’s exposed midriff. “But things have changed greatly since 1979.”
    Eugene rattled through the rest of the goals, all of which took more power away from The Brethren. Or at least that was how Michael saw it. How could things go so wrong in a mere thirty-three years?
    Eugene turned his eerie gaze toward him again. “I know you don’t understand our methods right now. But you will.”
    Michael frowned slightly, getting the feeling, not for the first time, that Eugene was somehow reading his mind.
    Eugene, however, gave no indication that he was hearing his thoughts, but rather turned all his attention back to the screen. He clicked the remote again, and Michael suppressed another groan. Not the damned pie charts again.
    Eugene glanced from the large screen toward Michael, eyebrow raised.
    See? Had Eugene heard that? Or had Michael only thought he’d contained his groan of frustration? He honestly wasn’t sure—of either.
    “I know you don’t want to see the pie charts again, but they are the best way to show the progress we’ve made in demon recognizance,” Eugene stated, his even, standard tone only taking on a slight edge of sharpness.
    Michael didn’t react. He simply stared at the graph he’d seen many, many times.
    The chart in front of him showed the percentage of demons that had been cast back to Hell. The percentage of possessed, which were now referred to as “diabolically challenged” who had been “rehabilitated.” Even the percentage of full-fledged demons who’d been “rehabilitated” too.
    Only one tiny sliver of the pie, small and bright red, showed how many of the demons had been slain. Killed. Cast from Heaven, Hell, and Earth forever.
    And as far as Michael was concerned, that whole damned chart should be a giant circle of bright red. Michael did not believe the possessed could be rehabilitated. Evil was all-encompassing and seeped into the very being of the humans the demons possessed. And as far as rehabilitating demons, that was asinine. And casting them back to Hell—well, that was a temporary fix, wasn’t it? Demons were like cockroaches. You might be able to drive them out, but they would always be back.
    But the DIA had access to the best damned exterminators in the business. Two of them standing right there.
    Michael glanced at Gabriel. Gabriel remained expressionless. His eyes on the chart, his once strong conviction as to what he was on this earth to do totally gone.
    Brainwashed. Totally brainwashed.
    Eugene sighed, his frustration clear now. Well, at least someone aside from Michael was feeling something. Eugene pressed his remote, and