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Sam clenched his hands so tight they began to cramp. He stared down at his fists, wondering what the hell his father had gotten him into. As a reaper, he never involved himself in human dramas. It wasn’t his place. He lived among them but wasn’t one of them. His ability to take a step back and bear witness to events was part of the job description.

His kind didn’t have many laws, but the few they had were absolute. Right at the top was to never interfere with a person’s destiny. It wasn’t his place to decide who lived or died or when. That job belonged to the Fates. Only the Grim Reaper himself might step in and overrule them. In Sam’s memory, it had never been done.

It was another reason he refused to become emotionally involved with humans. When he’d first been on the job, he’d befriended several men. Oh, they hadn’t known who he truly was, but he’d worked alongside them, eaten in their homes, spent time with their families. Having to watch them age and then reaping the souls of those few people he’d called friend had been devastating. Their hurt expressions and angry accusations when they’d died and understood what he was had left a deep scar.

The truck bed vibrated as Adrianne cranked the engine. Sam forced his hands open and grabbed the edges of the truck for stability, both physical and mental.

He’d shared in the laughter, tears, and lives of a select few— and had paid the price for that folly—but not once had he ever been angered on their behalf. He understood their lives were a mere blink of an eye compared to his, their deaths inevitable.

Why, then, was he outraged on Adrianne’s behalf? What did it matter how her end came? It came for all humans—that was an irrevocable truth.

The truck hit a bump, sending him a few inches into the air before he came crashing back down. He wanted to think she hadn’t done it on purpose but had his doubts.

She’d been so damn pale when he’d come across her in the parking lot, her eyes blank, sweat beaded on her brow. The shock hadn’t lasted long. She’d become a spitfire the second she’d set eyes on him. No, she hadn’t been afraid. She’d been ready to tear him apart.

Her reckless courage would get her killed.

He dug his fingers into the metal sides of the truck bed. There was no doubt she was dying…and soon. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here. All that remained a mystery was how it would happen. Not my concern. Even as he said it, he knew it for a lie.

Fine, he would care. That was the assignment. The trick was to ensure he didn’t care too much. He was thousands of years old, a reaper, and the eldest son of the Grim Reaper. Surely he could protect his heart while completing the task set for him.

Keep your eye on the prize. Adrianne would die soon or a few decades from now. In the end, what did it matter? He was fighting for his life, for the rest of eternity. That chilly reminder dampened his anger.

His perspective was firmly back in place when she parked in front of a nondescript two-story brick building. The sign out front announced it was the Redemption Police Department. Like many small towns, they had a local force while the sheriff’s office was situated in a larger center within the county.

Sam climbed out of the truck bed and opened her door before Adrianne had her seat belt off. “Do you have the note?”

The glare she shot him would have withered a lesser man. Good thing he was made of sturdier stuff. “Of course I have the damn note.” Leaving him to close the truck, she strode up the short walkway and yanked open the main door to the station. “Coming?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He joined her, waiting for her to enter ahead of him.

There were several chairs, currently empty, in the foyer with a counter beyond them. The young officer manning the reception desk stood as they approached. He gave Samael the once-over before nodding at Adrianne. “Miss Sharp.”

“Hi, Ben. Is Chief Johnson in?”

“Sure is. Just let me call back.” He lifted the receiver and punched in a number. “Hey, Chief. Adrianne Sharp is here and would like to see you. Yes, sir.” He hung up the phone. “Chief will be right out. You can take a seat, if you’d like.”

“I’m fine.” Her smile was strained, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

The officer might only be in his early twenties, but he had enough seasoning to know something serious was up. Sam could read it in the way his gaze flickered between them. Thanks to the officer, Adrianne’s last name was no longer a mystery. Before the officer could start asking questions, an older man strode down a hallway. Somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties, he was tall and fit. Deep lines feathered out from the corners of his eyes. Silver veins ran through his brown hair and handlebar mustache. His blue eyes missed nothing as they glanced at Sam before settling on the woman beside him.

“Adrianne, it’s good to see you.” He pushed open the door separating the two areas. “Come on back.” He waved them both through before leading the way down the short hallway to an office at the end. “Have a seat.” He indicated the two chairs in front of a scarred wooden desk. “Is this a door open or closed situation?”

“Closed.”

Sam waited until Adrianne was settled before sliding into the chair next to hers. He was content to let her run the show as she saw fit.

“I’m Chief Johnson.” The man nodded at Sam as he took his seat.

Taking the cue, he nodded back. “Samael Blackwell.”

“Here, look at this.” Adrianne thrust the note forward. The chief took it, his bushy eyebrows rising as he read it. “I found it on the seat of my truck when I came out of Mercer’s Market.”

“You’ve handled it.” It wasn’t a question. He dropped it onto the blotter in front of him.

“We both have,” Sam added.

“Is that so?” He nodded toward the door. “You want to step outside while I talk to Adrianne alone.” Not a question but an order. He also noted Adrianne didn’t protest.

Rather than reply, Sam snagged a notepad and pen from the corner of the desk and wrote his full name and several numbers before pushing them toward the chief. “The top one is a work number. You’ll need to call that one before I step outside, so I can give permission to my assistant to verify my schedule for the past several weeks.”

“And the second number.” Chief Johnson tapped the pad.

Sam gave a sardonic laugh. “Insurance. In case you’re thinking my assistant would lie for me, that’s the number for a real estate agent I stood up for dinner due to a family matter.” The last was said pointedly to Adrianne. “I doubt she’ll have much flattering to say about me, but she can confirm my whereabouts the past week, as she’s been showing me properties all around Las Vegas.”

Sam prayed at least one of the numbers worked. After what had happened when he’d tried to contact his brothers, he wasn’t confident, but there was nothing else to be done. It was the main reason he was allowing the chief to call. Maybe it was only him who was blocked from connecting to the outside. If it didn’t work, he might find himself sitting in a prison cell. Since that wasn’t what dear old Dad wanted, he figured this was his best shot at clearing his name so he could get down to business.

A gleam of what might be respect winked in the chief’s eyes before vanishing. The chief would be a hell of a poker player. He came across as relaxed and friendly, but this man had hidden depths. “Well then, let’s get this done.” He punched in the top number and put it on speaker.

“Mr. Blackwell’s office. How may I be of assistance?”

Relief hit him hard. It was good to hear a familiar voice, to have a connection with his real life. “Charles—” Before he could continue, he was cut off.

“Mr. Blackwell, is that you?” Genuine worry filled his assistant’s voice. “Everyone has been looking for you, sir. You disappeared, and no one knew where you were.”

“I apologize for the upset, Charles. A family matter arose. Cancel all my appointments for the foreseeable future and hold down the fort until I get back.” His assistant had efficiency down to a science. It was one of the main reasons Sam had hired him. He’d owe him one hell of a bonus, depending on how long he was stuck in Redemption.

Assuming he got to go back at all.

He clenched his jaw against the need to roar at the injustice of it all. He did his damn job, and well. But not well enough, apparently, or he wouldn’t be here. “You’re on the line with Chief Johnson. Please answer all his questions.”

There was nothing left for him to do. His fate was out of his hands, but not for long. Whatever the outcome, he’d figure out a way to gain the upper hand and complete the assignment. Then he was getting the hell out of Redemption and going back to his former life until this was but a memory.

You’ll never forget her.

Ignoring the taunting voice in his head, he gave them both a mock salute and stepped outside, closing the door firmly behind him.

…

Adrianne gripped the wooden arms of the chair to keep from bolting after Sam. Her reaction made no sense. He was little more than a stranger, a man with whom she’d shared a ride and a meal.

Why, then, did she feel as though he was abandoning her?

He hadn’t lied about the family matter. Whatever had happened between Sam and his father, he hadn’t even had time to contact work. He might be mostly a mystery to her, but Sam was a man who valued control. Having that yanked away couldn’t be pleasant.

He can walk away , she reminded herself. She could not.

“This is Chief Johnson of Redemption, North Carolina. Please state your full name.”

Swiveling her head back around, she watched as the chief pulled a yellow notepad in front of him and grabbed a pen.

“Ah, Charles Anthony Raymond.”

“And your relationship to Mr. Blackwell, Mr. Raymond?”

“I’m his personal assistant. Have been for two years. Is there a problem? Does Mr. Blackwell need a lawyer?”

“Mr. Blackwell is assisting us in a local matter, but I need to confirm his whereabouts on certain dates. For the record, you understand.”

“No, I don’t, but since Mr. Blackwell asked me to answer your questions, I will.”

Adrianne’s grip on her chair eased. There was loyalty between Charles and his boss. That spoke well of Sam.

“Where does Mr. Blackwell reside?”

“Where does he live?” There was obvious confusion. “He has a suite in the Bellagio.”

“He lives in a hotel suite?” she blurted before she could stop herself. The chief shot her a warning look. She mimed zipping her lip.

When Charles remained silent, the chief prompted him. “Please answer the question.”

“Ah, yes, he does.”

“And how long has he maintained that residence?”

“At least for the two years I’ve worked for him.” Charles was answering questions but not giving more information than necessary. Again, that spoke of loyalty.

“And has he been out of the city on business lately?” Grabbing the notepad Sam had used, she wrote, Ask him about Chicago. The chief’s brows rose, but he added, “Specifically Chicago. Go back at least six months.” It was no secret how long she’d been home, not from anyone in town.

“No, sir. I handle travel arrangements. Even if he booked a flight, he’s had meetings every day for the past two weeks.”

“Even weekends?”

“Yes, sir.” The sound of computer keys clicked in the background. He was likely checking his calendar and records. “The only travel he’s had in the past six months was a week in the Caribbean and another in Paris. Both times he traveled with a companion.”

He’d told her he didn’t have to stalk women, but to hear it confirmed in a way that made it most apparent he didn’t lack female company left her feeling…uncomfortable. She pressed her lips together and rubbed her hands over her jeans. It was only natural he’d date. It was nothing to her. She had no claim on him, nor did she want one.

“What about the six months prior to that?”

“Let me see. He left the city twice—Spain and Rome those times. Like the previous trips, he had a companion. Otherwise, Mr. Blackwell has been in the city. His schedule is extensive, with little free time.”

“What about weekends?”

“Mr. Blackwell often conducts business on the weekends.” Charles hesitated before adding, “Even when he travels, he works in meetings.”

He might be rich and have traveled to exotic places, but to Adrianne, his life sounded lonely. You would know. She filled her days with physical labor, working herself to exhaustion, keeping busy so her self-imposed isolation didn’t weigh so heavy.

“Thank you for your assistance. I’ll contact you if I have more questions.” The chief hung up the phone. “You doing okay, Adrianne? You look pale. You want something to drink? Coffee or something cooler?” Without waiting for an answer, he spun around in his chair, opened what turned out to be a mini fridge—and not a cabinet as she’d assumed—and pulled out a bottle of water. “I keep a few of these on hand. Trying to cut back on the caffeine.” He cracked the cap and handed it to her.

It surprised her that her hand was shaking as she accepted it. “Thank you.” The cool liquid slid easily down her throat. It was a relief to have Sam’s alibi confirmed, but that left her with her original problem.

“We’ll get down to the details of your problem in a minute, but I want to contact the other number first. Listen, but don’t say anything. If you think of something I should ask, write it down.” He pushed the pad of paper back toward her.

Right, the real estate agent. Gripping the bottle in both hands, she shifted forward in her chair.

This call went through as fast as the first one. “Good afternoon. This is Charmaine Lopez.” The voice was slow and sultry. This sounded like a woman who’d be right at home in the high-priced real estate business of Las Vegas…or anywhere else. She wasn’t being fair to the woman, who was probably excellent at her job, or Sam wouldn’t have hired her.

“This is Chief Johnson from Redemption, North Carolina. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“What about? As far as I’m aware, I don’t know anyone from there.”

“Well, there’s a man, name of Samael Blackwell, who claims otherwise.”

“I see.” There was a long silence. Her tone was crisp and all business. “Is he hurt?”

A grin appeared and quickly disappeared on the chief’s face. “He’s fine, but he gave you as a reference for his whereabouts these past few days.”

“I spent six solid days showing him houses in the area. We were supposed to meet for dinner last night, but he didn’t show, didn’t call. He left me sitting in a restaurant for an hour waiting for him.” Her voice rose higher and higher before coming to a screeching halt. She cleared her throat. “If that’s all, I’m expecting a client any moment.”

“Thank you for your time.” The line went dead before the chief hung up. “That is one angry lady.”

“Rightfully so.” Being stood up was never easy. The least Sam could have done was call.

“Since I don’t expect she’d lie for him, it looks like your friend is telling the truth.”

“He’s not my friend. I met him earlier today, gave him a ride into town, and shared lunch with him at Susie’s.”

Chief Johnson rubbed his hand over his chin. “Is that so?” He turned to his computer, typed in a password, and brought up a database. “Samael—no middle name—Blackwell. Unusual name.” He continued typing. “Has a Nevada driver’s license.” Another database. “No criminal record, as far as I can tell. I’ll do a bit more digging later.”

It appeared it was coincidence he’d arrived on the same day she received a note. At least her judgment wasn’t completely shot. But that left her with a problem. “Then who left the note?”

“Give me a second.” He rose, went to the door, and opened it. Sam was leaning against the wall, a blank expression on his face.

“I take it you’re satisfied I’m not Adrianne’s stalker.” He pushed upright and walked forward, but the chief blocked the door with his body.

“Your whereabouts were confirmed. You hold a Nevada license and have no priors. None that I can find, anyway. You’re free to go.”

Sam looked over the chief’s shoulder at her. “Adrianne?”

There was no reason for him to stay. Their paths had briefly crossed, but his road would lead him away from Redemption while hers dead-ended here. She opened her mouth, but nothing emerged. Swallowing, she tried again, but the words wouldn’t come.

Her vision narrowed until it became a tunnel. No, not a tunnel, a crossroads. Whatever choice she made now would reverberate into the future. It was such a sense of knowing, of rightness, she didn’t question it. Her granny had often had flashes of what she’d called “the sight.” Adrianne hadn’t fully believed in it, but Granny had had a way of knowing things from time to time. She wondered if this was what Granny had meant. Since there was no way to ask, all she could do was trust.

“Adrianne?” Sam had both hands braced against the doorjamb, his chest practically touching Chief Johnson’s.

“I’d like him to stay.” She waited for regret, but none came. Some of the tension bled from her as he nudged the chief aside and made his way to her side. It wasn’t smart to depend on anyone, especially not a man with one foot out the door. But she was tired of shouldering all the burdens herself, and he was here now.

“All right then.” The chief closed the door, took his seat, and picked up his pen. “Tell me everything.”