“Hey, Miki—”
“Start singing that damned song, and it’s going to be really fricking easy for you to give Sionn head ’cause you won’t have any teeth.”
“I asked if you’re okay.” Damie examined Miki’s face, either looking for a lie or eye boogers, so Miki shoved him away. “I’m guessing yeah, because you’re grumpy as shit.”
“I’m fine,” he grumbled, then seized on the one thing he knew could distract his friend. “Maybe Sionn got a new car. How do you know it’s for you?”
“Ah, no.” Sionn’s face blushed a bright pink, and he rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand. “That’s Damie’s present. You know, for the day. Valentine’s Day.”
“Dude, you just—wow—rock. No words, babe. Just. No. Words.” Damien hooked his arms around Sionn’s waist, drawing the larger man into a long kiss. They finished sucking each other’s tongues, and Damie leaned back to give Miki a wide grin. “Did you see what Sionn got me?”
“Yep, it’s a car.” He studied the gleaming hunk for any kind of clue to identify what type, but Miki came up empty. “A black one.”
“It’s a seventy Plymouth Hemi ’Cuda!” Damien broke free of Sionn’s loose embrace and snagged Miki’s arm. “Come on, you’ve got to ride in it. Sionn got it off a car guy in Vegas. It’s tricked out like you wouldn’t imagine.”
“I dunno. I can imagine quite a lot,” Miki muttered as he looked at the car. “Well, okay maybe not about that.”
“Actually, love, we’ve got to get going,” Sionn said, checking his watch. Not the watch Damien bought him, so Miki guessed D was too wrapped up in the car to do an actual exchange. “We want to miss traffic.”
“Where’re you guys going?” He tried to remember if Damie’d said something about leaving, but his brain rattled on without him, probably still pissed off about its whole accident flashback thing not working. “Did I know you were going?”
“Over to SLO. Down to the Madonna Inn.” If Damie’s grin got any wider, he could play the Joker for Halloween. “We talked about it, Sinjun. Shit just sneaks up on you. Okay, to be fair, I think Kane had his tongue down your throat.”
“Yeah, my ears stop working then.” Miki nodded. “Like if you cut off a frog’s legs it goes deaf.”
“I worry about the two of you. And no, Mick, he probably didn’t tell you. I got us the Old World suite,” Sionn explained. “Thought we’d spend a couple to three days down that way. Maybe even get out of the room and get some crab up at Morro Bay. Or maybe down to Solvang.”
“Dude, it’s got a waterfall in the bathroom. And it’s like a cave.” Damie was practically thrumming, and Miki laughed, caught in the web of his friend’s excitement. “We’re taking the ’Cuda. Wait, we are taking the ’Cuda, right?”
“Yeah, D. Into the car now. We’ve got to go.” Sionn pushed Damien toward the steel beast. “We’ll see you in a couple of days, Mick. Have a good time of it. Just no—”
“No sex on the counters or the couch,” Miki cut him off. “Yeah, yeah. Whatevers.”
The car did make an impressive rumble. It also squealed when Damie punched the gas pedal, waving as the Barracuda shot past Miki. He waved back, holding the humongous red bow tightly when it began to flap in the wind. The sleek muscle car turned the corner, and Miki lost sight, but its growling engine could still be heard echoing around the block.
“Almost forgot Kane’s other thingie.” He had Sionn’s car keys and turned to grab the package he’d left on the seat when he smashed the bow into the door. The thing was nearly as tall as he was, and he fought with one of its loops, trying to get it out from around his neck. “What the hell am I going to do with this?”
Miki eyed the Cherokee. Grabbing the gift, he stuffed the insanely large bow into the car’s interior, then slammed the door quickly before it could pop out and run amok. “There. Fuck it. They can deal with all of that later.”
THE HOUSE was quiet. A little bit too quiet. Toeing off his Converses and socks, Miki heard the scrape of Dude’s teeth on something hard—most likely a bone since it looked like Kane meant to keep the terrier occupied.
Or so he guessed by the odd trail of red heart-shaped objects leading from the front door to the first-floor bedroom. Miki bent over and picked up a handful. Some pieces were guitar picks, deep red and engraved with his name, while most of the trail was made up of fragrant blood-hued rose petals. The path led to the bed. A bed surrounded by what looked like a million unlit white candles on nearly every table they owned.