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Adrianne couldn’t be more exhausted if she’d run five miles in the heat. Having left her sunglasses in the truck, she shielded her eyes against the brilliance of the glare when she stepped out of the police station. The street looked the same. People went about their business, undisturbed. The sheer ordinariness of it left her edgy rather than soothed.

Evil had invaded her town. She’d brought it with her.

Rather than recount every detail of her ordeal in Chicago in front of Sam, she’d given the chief the name and phone number of the detective she’d dealt with. The file was being copied to Redemption. The chief promised he’d be in contact once he’d gone over it. He’d wanted her to stay with friends in town, but she was ready to go home. Besides, Chester was waiting. As cantankerous as the old cat could be, she didn’t want anything to happen to him. He was all the family she had.

There was nothing else the chief could do. Their hands were tied, short of having a deputy drive out to her place every few hours. The stalker hadn’t physically harmed her—unless she counted the loss of her job and home in Chicago.

Why hadn’t he left her alone? And how had he found her?

It was frustrating to have someone obsessed with her without having a clue as to who it might be. She’d racked her brains for months but had come up empty.

A large hand splayed across the base of her spine. “How are you holding up?”

It took everything in her not to lean into his touch. “I’m fine.” She forced herself to start walking toward her vehicle. “Thank you for the emotional and moral support earlier, but I’ve got this from here.” She should have told him to leave once his name had been cleared. There was no place in her life for a man—even one as intriguing and gorgeous as Samael Blackwell—and especially one who wouldn’t be sticking around for long. She had enough drama in her life without intentionally adding to it. A simple note had shattered the peace and calm she’d spent months cultivating.

Not looking behind to watch him walk away, she climbed into the truck, wincing when her bare arm brushed against the hot leather of the seat. She went to close the door, but Sam was there, holding it with one hand. His fingers were long and thick, his skin tanned a golden brown. They looked more like a workman’s hands than those of one who lived in a hotel.

And who did that? Lived in a hotel? Someone extremely wealthy, that’s who. She glanced pointedly at the door. “Problem?”

“You’re really going to walk away and not tell me what’s going on?” Despite the heat, he appeared as cool as a tall glass of frosty lemonade. There weren’t even any sweat stains on his shirt. With the leather jacket slung over one shoulder and his stylishly cut black hair falling in precise waves, he’d be right at home on the cover of Bad Boys magazine, if such a thing existed.

“You’re aware I acquired a stalker in Chicago. You already know more than anyone in town besides the police.” The details were too ugly to share. Bad enough the chief would soon be poring over every gritty detail of her case. “While I appreciate your assistance earlier, you’re virtually a stranger and this really isn’t any of your business.” She grabbed her shades and slipped them on, thankful she’d tucked them out of the sun.

The corners of his mouth tightened. “It’s very much my business since you accused me of being your stalker.”

“I won’t apologize for that. It was a perfectly logical assumption, given the circumstances. And you’ve been exonerated of any wrongdoing.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry Chief Johnson poked into your business. Not what you bargained for when you landed here.” He hadn’t asked for any of this. When she grabbed the door handle, he gripped it tighter, keeping her from closing the door. “Was there something else?” While she was more than ready to be on her way before she melted, she was honest enough to admit she wasn’t excited about going home alone.

The note had left her rattled.

“I don’t want your apology, but I’ll accept it. Like it or not, I am involved. You came to my aid this morning. The least you can do is let me repay the favor.”

Adrianne leaned back and studied his face. “I gave you a ride. You’d have made it to town in about twenty minutes if I hadn’t stopped. You don’t owe me anything.”

“You also paid for my lunch.”

She squirmed slightly in her seat. “It was a friendly gesture. Let’s leave it at that.”

“How about another one?”

“One what?” When he shifted his weight, she took advantage and yanked the door shut.

One corner of his mouth quirked upward, his slight grin making him appear more approachable, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were as grave as ever. “A favor.”

She jammed the key in the ignition and turned. The motor rumbled to life. “You want me to do you another favor?” It was impossible to figure his angle.

“After what you put me through”—he canted his head toward the police station—“I want to know the entire story.”

“That’s personal.” She gripped the wheel tight, the muscles in her forearms straining.

“The police questioned my assistant and a prominent real estate agent about my whereabouts. Charles won’t say anything, but I’m sure Charmaine has already spread the word. I do a lot of business in that town.”

There was no hiding her wince. She released the wheel and swiped her palms over her face. It wasn’t only the heat making her cheeks flush. “I’m truly sorry about that.” It hadn’t occurred to her what damage her false accusations might do. “Will it have an impact on your business?”

He leaned down until his arms rested on the edge of the open window, the move reminiscent of their first meeting. “Tell you what. You let me come home with you. I’ll check out your house and the outside area to ensure you have no unexpected visitors, and I’ll tell you my story. Then you can tell me yours.” When she hesitated, he added, “It would put my mind at ease.”

Butterflies danced in her stomach. He’d been cleared by the police chief. And it would be nice not to have to face going home alone. She’d be fine tomorrow…maybe. There was no denying her nerves were strung taut after finding that note.

“I’m harmless.”

She gave a snort. “Never that.”

His black eyes were deathly serious. “Correction, I’m a dangerous enemy to have.” Goose bumps rose on her arms. “But I will never harm you, Adrianne.”

Truth reverberated in the promise, but there was something else there, too. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. “How will you get back to town? It’s a long walk. It defeats the purpose of you checking out the place if I have to turn around and leave it again.”

“That’s my worry. I’ve got two good legs.”

It was his choice. “Fine, get in.” The words were out before she could call them back. Maybe it was easier to involve a stranger in her problems, rather than someone she knew. He’d be leaving soon, while a local would be around forever. If she had any say in it, she wanted to keep the stalker thing under wraps. The likelihood of that happening was slim. Once the other officers were informed of her situation, it was only a matter of time until word leaked. People didn’t mean any harm, but they did love to gossip.

Of course, if too many residents saw her with Sam, yet again, they’d be talking about her for an entirely different reason.

Sam wasted no time going around the truck and climbing in on the passenger side. “This is my third ride with you, but the first one on an actual seat.” He gave a fleeting grin as he tossed his coat down beside him.

That surprised a laugh from her. Shaking her head, she backed out of her spot and headed out of town. “Keep it up and you might get to drive.” She paused. “In, say, fifty years.” Now that it wouldn’t only be her at the house, a weight lifted from her chest. Chief Johnson would have sent an officer with her, had offered, but that was a waste of resources when they already had too few.

His dark eyes twinkled. “I’m beginning to think you actually like me, Ms. Sharp.”

There was no need to think about it at all for her. There was something about him that had all her feminine hormones sighing. It was nothing more than being in a dating rut—as in not having one—for more than a year. That’s all she’d allow it to be. The stalker had ended socializing, and since she’d come home, she’d been too busy taking over the family business to leave her any spare time. “Keep on dreaming.” She tapped her fingers against the wheel. “Spill. The investing in hotels and casinos, is that a family thing?”

“No, that’s my thing. I invest in property and businesses, basically anything I think will make money, which makes hotels and casinos attractive. I also play the stock market. And I’m damn good at it.” The last was said without conceit. It was nothing more than a statement of fact, as if he’d said his hair was black.

That explained the bucks.

“What about you? What did you do in Chicago and what do you do here?” When she hesitated, he shook his head in mock disappointment. “I told you mine.”

“The bare bones,” she grumbled, but what the hell. It was no big deal. Someone with his wealth could easily hire someone to investigate her past, if he were so inclined. Not that she thought he would. She was nothing more than a curiosity. “I was in human resources at one of the large financial companies.” No need to give full details. “Started straight out of college.” She waited for him to ask about the stalker, but he surprised her.

“And now?” He was relaxed, one arm resting on the open window. The breeze ruffled his dark hair. The sunlight didn’t seem to bother him in the least. He had his head tilted back so it shone right on him.

“Now I run a lavender farm.” It had been a soft place to land when her life in Chicago had imploded. But more than that, the physical labor involved with working the land had saved her sanity.

“That’s quite different from human resources, but it suits you.”

“Does it?” She wasn’t sure she appreciated his assessment, though there was nothing disparaging in his tone, as though he’d thought she’d taken a step down in her career path. She loved everything about the farm. It had only taken having to go away and attract a stalker to remind her how much.

“Yes, you seem to be the type of woman who’d enjoy the challenge of running a small business, being her own boss, and working with her hands in a creative endeavor.”

When he put it like that… She mulled it over. He wasn’t wrong. That he’d summed it all up so succinctly shouldn’t have surprised her. From the beginning, he’d shown a great deal of awareness about himself and his surroundings. That was likely what made him successful in his business dealings.

“I grew up here.” It wasn’t like her to open up to a stranger, but it was getting harder to think of him that way. He was simply Sam. “My granny and grandpa raised me after my parents were killed in a car accident.” Her grandparents had opened their home without hesitation, but when her granny had needed her the most, Adrianne hadn’t been there. It was too late to beg for forgiveness. All she could do was protect the legacy she’d been given.

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, but it was a long time ago. I was five and don’t have many memories of them. It was always the three of us—me, Granny, and Grandpa—and whatever animals we had around.” Chester was the only one left. If the mess of her life was ever straightened out, it’d be time to consider getting a dog.

“The farm was theirs?”

She shook her head and smiled. “That was all Granny. Grandpa worked at a sawmill when he was younger and did some carpentry work later. After he passed, it was the two of us.” Those days had been hard on them both. Grandpa had been larger than life, his laugh huge and his zest for life enormous. The heart attack had taken him with no warning. He’d been here one second and gone the next.

Sam remained quiet, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “Do you ever wonder why some people die and others don’t?” Not light conversation, but this wasn’t a date, and they’d already trod in deep waters.

“No.” Something in his tone had her glancing over. “It’s up to the Fates. No one knows when their time will come. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.” His arms were folded across his chest, his gaze staring straight out the front window. A muscle in his jaw worked, as though he was grinding his teeth.

Her question had hit a sensitive spot. She wondered if he’d lost someone close to him before their time. He’d mentioned his father but not his mother, or maybe he simply wasn’t close to her. It was all speculation, because he wasn’t sharing. Wanting to lighten the mood, she changed the subject. “I don’t live alone.” That got his attention. She fought a grin.

“You live with a man?” Was it her imagination or had his voice deepened?

Another quick glance. Oh, yeah, he was all ears. “Yes. No. Not quite a man, a male.”

“Do tell.”

They’d reached the turnoff. “Welcome to the Little Lavender Company.” She’d painted the company sign herself years ago. The background was white with large purple lettering outlined in gold to make it pop. A couple of months back, she’d added a gray cat with a sprig of lavender in his paw to the sign. “Chester is the face of the company.”

Using Chester’s likeness as the new company logo, she’d added it to all the promotional material, putting her own stamp on it and claiming it as her own.

She kept the truck to the right to avoid the worst ruts. She’d soon have to hire someone to come out to grade the road before she damaged the tires or worse. “And there he is.”

…

An enormous gray cat sat at the top of the steps leading to the small porch that fronted the single-story, white-clapboarded home. A large purple shed sat behind it. Beyond was a huge field of lavender plants. Wind chimes hung from the branches of several oak trees. Off to one side, flat patio stones created an outdoor space with a couple of Adirondack chairs and a fire pit. He could easily picture her here, working or relaxing.

What would happen to it when Adrianne died?

Not my problem. Jaw tightening, he grabbed his jacket and climbed out, joining her as she lifted a large cooler from the truck. “I’ve got it.” Their fingers grazed when he took it from her. Their gazes locked. A spark of desire shot up his arm before heading downward to his groin. “Where do you want this?” His voice was gruff, but he could do nothing about it. He was about thirty seconds from making the huge mistake of kissing her.

He longed to savor her taste, the feel of her lush lips against his. His cock punched against his jeans, making them uncomfortably tight. She stared at him, her curly hair escaping her haphazard bun and framing her face. Objectively speaking, her features were average—until you looked at her eyes. All her emotions were on full display in those chocolate-brown eyes. She might not give away much in body language, but the eyes truly were the mirrors of the soul.

It was why he did his best not to peer into his own.

“Adrianne?” He blinked, breaking the moment. Getting more deeply involved would be a mistake. Completing his mission and ensuring his freedom were the priority.

“Oh, right. The kitchen.” She grabbed some cloth grocery bags and headed toward the house. Chester meowed loudly as she approached. It was more of a yowl of complaint. “You’re not starving,” she informed the cat as she jammed a key in the lock. “I fed you this morning.”

Amused by her conversation with the animal, Sam’s lips twitched. It seemed so natural, he was sure it was a common occurrence. Who else did she have to talk to? The sober reminder only drove home her isolation. Would she die here alone with only the cat to witness it? It seemed more than likely her sudden passing would have a connection to her stalker rather than be an accident, especially considering the note she’d found earlier.

Hatred for his father became a snarling, snapping beast inside him. What was the point of being compassionate? He liked Adrianne, with her big heart and courage. Hell, he was starting to more than like her. In a perfect world, she’d have come to Vegas for a short vacation, their paths would have crossed, and they’d have burned up the sheets for several passionate and memorable days. Then they’d both have gone back to their lives with him none the wiser of her impending death. Another reaper would have handled her case, and he never would have known her life would be cut short.

Now he did, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He clenched his jaw tighter to keep from yelling his frustration. If you’re listening, Dad, I’ve learned compassion. He sympathized with Adrianne. Surely that was sufficient. The silence was reply enough. His father wasn’t convinced.

So be it. He’d reap her soul when the time came. The trick would be to make sure he didn’t lose what was left of his own in the process.

The inside of the house was only slightly cooler than the outside. There was no air-conditioning unit. The windows were open, and the shades were partially lowered to provide some respite from the summer heat. It was too damn easy for someone to break into her home. Why bother locking the doors if the windows were open? It was a moment’s work to cut the screens. To be fair, as isolated as she was, anyone could smash out a back window, and she’d never notice until she was inside.

Tension radiated through his entire body. He took a deep breath, but it did nothing to relax him. This entire situation was a no-win one for them both. Trying to shake his dour mood, he looked around the room.

The inside reflected the homey charm of the outside. A stone fireplace was centered between floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that were crammed with books, pictures, and other memorabilia. Two comfy chairs flanked it, while an overstuffed blue sofa faced it. The coffee table was made of live-edge wood. It was beautifully made.

He tossed his jacket over the back of the sofa before heading into the combined dining and kitchen area. A long bench seat sat beneath a window with a round table in front of it with two extra chairs. The galley kitchen was spotless with white cabinets and appliances. The floors throughout were wide-planked hardwood that gleamed honey-gold. He set the cooler on the countertop.

“Thanks.” She had most of one bag unpacked. With her hair up, the nape of her neck was exposed. His hand was half raised to stroke the sensitive skin before he dropped it and curled his fingers into a fist. He had no right to touch her.

“Would you like something cool to drink?” she asked, having no idea how tenuous his restraint was. “There’s lemonade and sweet tea in the fridge.”

What had she been thinking to ask a total stranger into her home? That it was his idea didn’t negate his growing anger. Yes, Chief Johnson had cleared him, but with enough money, anyone could circumvent any system. She had no reason to trust him.

“I want to take a look around.” And he needed a few minutes to himself to drag his wayward emotions in line before he said something that would get his ass kicked off her farm. If he hoped to get his life back, he needed to remain close and see this assignment through. Failure was not an option.

He caught a glimpse of surprise on her face before she shrugged. “Sure.” Her lips compressed into a thin line before she offered a forced smile. “No need for you to stick around now that I’m home. You have family issues to deal with. I appreciate you coming with me.”

Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry? There was no one to blame but himself. Even Chester had jumped up on the bench seat and was glaring at him from accusing green eyes. Animals were instinctual creatures, cats more than most. There was no doubt Chester sensed something off about him. Most of his powers were locked down—he needed to discover how much—but there was no way to erase what he was at the core of his being: a reaper.

“I’m in no rush. I want to check the shed and surrounding area.” Giving in to the yearning, he reached out and feathered his fingers down her cheek. Her skin was soft as a rose petal, the color in her cheeks deepening as he stroked. He grazed his thumb over her bottom lip when she didn’t push him away. She wasn’t wearing lipstick, but they shone as if coated in clear gloss or balm. Her throat rippled when she swallowed. It would be so easy to dip down and taste her sweetness.

Dropping his hand, he whirled around and stalked toward the front door.

“Wait,” she called. He stopped but didn’t turn around. If he did, he was going to kiss her. Worse, he didn’t think she’d stop him. “The keys to the drying shed and shop are on the hook by the door.”

He grabbed them on his way out, the screen door slamming shut behind him. The sun’s rays smacked him in the face as soon as he exited. He welcomed it, needing the light and heat to drive back the dark chill invading him. Keeping busy, doing something productive, grounded him. Since his usual pursuits were out of the question, physical exercise would have to do. The image of him and Adrianne naked in her bed made him groan. Not that kind of exercise.

Strides lengthening, he made his way to the purple shed. The lock was hardly worth using. One hard boot to the door and he’d smash through it. He jammed the key in with more force than necessary. She needed better security in both her home and workspace. That was something he could do, an outlet for his frustration.

Or would it be seen as interfering?

This assignment was turning out to be far more complex than anticipated. He was working blind, not understanding the rules. This wasn’t like any other reaping he’d ever done. He was called moments before death. He didn’t live with the people, and didn’t know their histories, not since the early years when he’d made friends.

Nowadays, he kept distance between himself and everyone else. That was impossible to do in this case. He already knew more about Adrianne than he did about anyone else in the world other than his brothers. And it was the tip of the iceberg. In his gut, he understood this assignment wouldn’t be easy; otherwise, there was no point.

Putting his concern aside, he stepped into the shed. Inhaling, he took in the fruits of Adrianne’s labor, letting the sweet floral scent seep into the cells of his body. The same scent clung to her. He’d forever associate it with her.

A few dozen bundles of lavender hung from a drying rack. He moved deeper into the space, which was longer than it appeared from the front. The next room contained several pieces of equipment—one of which resembled a still used by bootleggers—and an industrial cooktop, metal bowls in all shapes and sizes, utensils, molds, and everything else necessary for whatever she produced. There was a large door on one side for ventilation or to move equipment outside. This was where she created the products she sold.

The back door opened to a short hallway that connected it to another, smaller building. It was a smart design. Close enough that she could easily go back and forth between areas while keeping them separate. The new space contained a large counter and what appeared to be a designated packing space. Everything was neatly aligned—labels, envelopes, boxes. Beyond were shelves stacked with inventory.

He lifted a bar of soap and studied the label. The Little Lavender Company logo was stamped on a beige wrapper that sat snugly around the center of the bar, leaving the ends exposed. There were packets of dried lavender and candles in several sizes.

A basket contained note cards and envelopes. He studied the first image. It was a clever sketch of a gray cat with a sprig of lavender—the same from the sign on the edge of the property and the packaging. The name at the bottom caught his eye. Adrianne.

He pulled out four more designs, two with the cat he recognized as Chester and two with scenes from the lavender farm. They were well rendered and… cozy was the word that came to mind. Adrianne had hidden talents beyond that of lavender farmer.

The operation was impressive—and a lot of work for one person.

Nothing appeared out of place, so he left, locking the doors behind him. He found what he’d been looking for just beyond the building in the surrounding woods. Hands on his hips, he stared down at the footprints. He measured them against his own size fourteens. They were shorter, maybe a ten or eleven. On their own, they meant nothing. When he stood beside them, he had a perfect view of the back of the house, including the kitchen and what he’d bet his last dollar was her bedroom.

Every muscle in his body locked. A rage unlike any other swept through him. It threatened to burn away all sense of reason. When she’d asked him earlier if he’d ever wondered why some people died and others didn’t, he’d answered honestly. He spent no time considering it. His job was to reap their souls and move on to the next. It wasn’t his business to interfere.

When the time came, he’d reap Adrianne’s soul. It was his duty and the only way to get his life back.

Her killer would walk free.