Page 6

Adrianne peered out the kitchen window, searching for Sam. She brushed her fingers over her cheek where he’d touched her. It had been unexpected. His eyes had darkened—something that should have been impossible since they were already black. His nostrils had flared. When his lips parted the slightest bit, she’d been sure he would kiss her. Instead, he’d run out of the house as if it were on fire.

“Wishful thinking,” she said to Chester. Even if Sam had experienced the same spark she had—more like a raging bonfire—he clearly wasn’t interested in pursuing it. And why would he? She was a small-town farmer with enough baggage to fill an eighteen-wheeler, and he was a rich, successful businessman from the city. She might have walked in his world once, but her life was here now. She owed it to her grandparents to honor the legacy they’d left her, the one she’d been so eager to toss away as a teenager.

No, it was more he was the responsible sort. Look at how he’d insisted on going with her to the police station. “It’s a sense of obligation, nothing more. That’s why he’s here.” And the sooner he looked around outside, the sooner he could satisfy himself everything was fine and leave.

Needing to do something to occupy her while she waited, she pulled two glasses out of the cupboard before retrieving a pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator. “If he doesn’t want it, I can drink it later,” she informed the cat, who glanced at her before licking his paw and grooming his face. Chester was fastidious, always wanting to look his best. She thought the company photo shoots were turning him into an even bigger diva.

“You’re right,” she said, taking his lack of interest as agreement. “I’m making too much of what happened between us. He touched my face. Okay, and my bottom lip, but he didn’t kiss me.” And that had been more disappointing than it should have been. She needed to get out more, or at all. She’d practically been a hermit since coming home to Redemption. “I have bigger problems.”

Dating and a man were complications she didn’t need.

Sighing, she recognized the mental gymnastics for what they were—a distraction. The reality of the situation was ugly and scary. Her stalker had found her. She pressed a palm against her chest and took a deep breath. “You’re okay. You’re safe here.” Only she wasn’t. Not when some unknown person was obsessed with her. The note had shattered her sense of security.

“We’ll deal with it, Chester.” Satisfied with his grooming, the cat jumped from the bench, padded over, and began to wind himself through her legs. Bending down, she scratched his head before rubbing his side. His loud purring settled her further. This was her home. No one was going to drive her away.

It was time to clean Grandpa’s shotgun…just in case. The idea of intentionally injuring someone made her stomach queasy, but she’d do it to protect herself and Chester.

The screen door slammed open. Startled by the loud noise, the cat raced off, leaving her to fend for herself. Adrianne lunged toward the knife block. Wrapping her fingers around the handle of the largest one, she yanked it out and prepared to defend herself.

“You planning on using that?” Sam nodded at the eight-inch blade clutched in her hand. His tone was mild, as if he wasn’t the least bit concerned one way or another.

“You scared me.” Heart pounding, she carefully lowered the makeshift weapon and set it on the counter. “I thought—” Didn’t matter what she’d thought, she was obviously more on edge than she realized. No surprise considering this was the second major fright she’d had today.

She jerked her head toward the drinks. “There’s lemonade if you want it.” Leaving him to do as he chose, she shoved open the back door and went out onto the porch.

Normally, when she needed to think, she walked or worked, but her entire body was trembling from the adrenaline dump. She dropped down on the top step, leaned her elbows on her knees, and buried her face in her hands. She needed a few minutes to regroup before they talked.

A few seconds later, the screen door squeaked as it was opened. “I should have knocked or called out before entering. Here.” She lifted her head long enough to accept the lemonade he offered. He took a seat on the step beside her, sipping from a glass of his own.

“Beautiful land you have here, impressive setup for your business.” It was mindless conversation, meant to give her time to pull herself together. “This entire place smells amazing.”

He was doing his best to distract her, and damned if it wasn’t working. The deep tone of his voice sank into her bones, calming her. The man could make a fortune doing voiceovers for advertisers. Her hand was only trembling slightly when she took a drink. “Sorry about the overreaction. I guess I’m more nervous than I thought.”

“And here I thought I was special. Or do you pull a knife on every man who comes into your home?”

That surprised a laugh from her. “You have the distinction of being the first.” He could have been angry. Instead, he handled it with humor and a lack of judgment. Just who was Samael Blackwell, business mogul?

“Guess that makes me special.” It was said deadpan. She tilted her head to one side, trying to determine if he was serious or joking with her.

Since she sincerely doubted his ego needed a boost, she changed the subject. “I take it everything was fine?” When he didn’t answer, she set her glass on the step below her and braced herself for the worst. “You found something.”

“Footprints.”

“Footprints? That doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people trek through the woods, foraging or heading to the nearby stream.”

When Sam took her hand in his, all the saliva dried up in her mouth. His expression was deadly serious. “Adrianne, where the person was standing gives a perfect view of the back of the house.” His tone softened. “Which room is yours?”

It took her a second to register the meaning of his question. “My bedroom? It’s in the back. It could be a coincidence.” And she was grasping at straws.

“I don’t believe in coincidence.”

“That’s ironic considering your arriving in town the same time my stalker did was a fluke.” The knots in her stomach tightened. Was she right to trust him? If he’d wanted to harm her, he’d had plenty of time. There was no need for this elaborate ruse, but who understood the mind of a man who’d do such a thing in the first place?

Anger and fear played a tug-of-war within her, with anger edging out a win. “I need to call Chief Johnson.” Her phone was in her purse. She needed to start always carrying it on her. It was usually close at hand, but she’d walked out of the house without it. That was a carelessness she couldn’t afford.

“I’ll get it.” She had to force herself not to grab him when he released her.

“It’s in the outside pocket of my purse on the counter.”

He nodded and disappeared inside, only to return seconds later with the device and hand it to her. Clutching it like a lifeline, she placed the call. Doing something concrete felt positive. It was answered on the third ring.

“Redemption Police Department, how may I help you?”

“This is Adrianne Sharp. I need to speak with the chief.”

“Hold on. Let me see if he’s available.”

Time dragged as she waited. It was probably only seconds but seemed like forever when he finally answered. “Adrianne, what’s wrong?” Chief Johnson’s voice boomed over the line.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d told your officers, so I thought it best to speak directly to you.” She was proud of how steady her voice sounded when her insides were jittery. “Sam looked around the place and found footprints not far from the house. I thought you should know, for the record and in case you wanted to document them.” She wasn’t sure there was any point, but she wasn’t in law enforcement. Small towns didn’t work like the shows on television, neatly wrapping up the crime in an hour. Neither did city police forces, for that matter. It was all a matter of time and resources and actual evidence.

“Is Sam with you now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nothing else is out of place?”

“Not that I’m aware. No one was in the house while I was gone. All the outbuildings are fine.” She looked to Sam for confirmation, and he nodded. “It doesn’t amount to much. It could have been someone cutting through the property. I shouldn’t have bothered you with this.” With the phone call on top of her visit earlier, the chief was going to think she was jumping at shadows.

“No, you did the right thing. Tell Sam I said for him to stay put until I get there.”

“I will.” She closed her eyes, a wave of relief washing over her. Unlike Chicago, there were people here she could count on. Detective Ramirez had done his best, but her case had been pushed aside by more pressing ones.

“I have to finish up something here, but I’ll be along in a bit.”

“Thank you, Chief.” She ended the call. “He wants you to stay until he gets here. I think he wants to talk to you.” For the second time today.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Sam leaned back on his hands, letting his gaze roam the area.

“I’m sorry you keep being dragged into my problems.” No matter how many times she said it, it didn’t change the fact that his life had been upended by what was happening in hers. “Bet you’re sorry you took that offer of a ride this morning.” She tried to joke, but it fell flat.

“I’m right where I need to be.”

What a strange thing to say. “Do you want to call your father?” She held out her phone, but he made no effort to take it. Whatever their disagreement, he wasn’t ready to reach out. More likely, he didn’t want to talk with her listening. “I can go inside if you need privacy.”

When he still ignored the device, she tucked it in her back pocket. “I understand you’ve got difficulties of your own to deal with. You can catch a ride back into town with the chief.” And she’d figure out how she was going to stay here alone with a stalker out there somewhere.

“The issue with my father isn’t going anywhere any time soon.”

She waited, but he remained silent, both finishing their drinks and setting the glasses aside. A cardinal swooped down from a tree in a flash of color before winging away. Bees buzzed, flitting lazily from one flower to another. The light breeze tinkled through the metal wind chimes hung from the trees. A sense of peace and belonging settled into her bones.

This was her home, her place. She never should have left. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty. There was no going back, only forward, but she could kick herself for the years she’d lost with her granny. She could have done business courses online or at a nearby college. If…no, when this nightmare ended, she was going to fully embrace life. She’d get out there, reconnect with childhood friends, expand the farm the way her granny had dreamed, spend more time on her art, and maybe even date. She’d always planned on getting married and having kids. That couldn’t happen until the past was finally put to rest.

“What happened in Chicago?”

She’d been waiting for him to ask again. “Are you sure you want to know? You can walk away now without being dragged further into the mess that is my life.”

He moved down to the step below her, turned, and rested against the post with his legs stretched out on the stair tread, his hands resting on his stomach. “Tell me everything.”

…

Her reminder of his issue with his father set Sam’s temper on edge. Adrianne deserved a man who’d protect her with his life, not one who’d step back and allow fate to have its way—a pity for them both that he was all she had.

Mimicking his pose, she brought her legs up on the porch and rested her back against the thick post on the opposite side. “I’m not sure where to begin.” She rubbed her palms on the legs of her jeans.

“Wherever seems best.”

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, lost in thought. He was beginning to think she’d changed her mind when she spoke. “I had a good life. It wasn’t perfect, but I enjoyed my coworkers, the energy of the city, the restaurants, the entertainment.” She opened her eyes and gave a small chuckle. “The shopping. Looking back, I realize how empty it all was. I was caught up in the rat race of success, working long hours, spending too much time and hard-earned money on frivolous things that didn’t really matter.”

“No one special in your life?” He’d meant to remain silent but had to ask.

“I rarely dated. No time. And the men I met were as invested in their careers as I was in mine. A group of us from work often went out for drinks or dinner, sometimes to the theater. That kind of thing. I’m not sure where the time went. The years passed in a blur of work and expectations. I was always reaching for the next goal and the next, promising myself once I achieved it I’d be happy.”

The empty pit in his stomach grew. Whatever life she’d had, it hadn’t made her happy.

She waved her hand toward the lavender field. “The harvest is over for the season, but you should see it in full bloom. There’s nothing like it. I left all this for… I’m not sure I remember why I was so fired up to leave.” The pain in her voice was layered with guilt. It was a human emotion he’d always thought useless. It changed nothing and often kept people from moving forward. You made your decisions and lived with them. Although, considering the current state of his life, he might not be the best expert on life advice.

“You needed to spread your wings. It’s natural for every teenager to want to experience the larger world.” It was one thing that hadn’t changed since the dawn of humankind.

“I take it you did the same.”

She had no idea how far he’d traveled from home. “First opportunity.”

“I wanted more than a small town. I wanted the lights, the excitement, and the success. I wanted more.” He hated the bitterness in her voice. “I certainly got more, didn’t I?”

“When did you realize something was wrong?” He wanted to reach out and take her hand. Instead, he linked his together and tucked them behind his head. A crow soared into view, swooping down to perch on a nearby tree. Malaki, the bastard, was openly spying on him. Seemed his father was keeping a close eye on the situation.

She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “It was a gradual thing. Someone left flowers outside my apartment door. I thought it was a mistake, but the card had my name on it.”

“What did it say?”

“‘For you.’” Her shoulders hunched forward slightly. “I had no idea who they were from. It was half a dozen roses.” When she scrunched up her nose, he had a flash of what she must have looked like as a child.

“Don’t you like roses?” In his experience, most women enjoyed them. The more the better.

“Honestly, not really. They’re expensive and don’t last. I prefer carnations or daisies or wildflowers. They survive longer.”

He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling. She might talk about spending money in the city, but he had no doubt she’d banked a sensible amount out of every paycheck.

“My birthday was a few days away. I asked at work, figuring maybe some of my friends had chipped in on them. They all denied it. The women all teased me about having a secret admirer. I’ll admit, I was flattered, at first. It was romantic, like something out of a book.” She sighed and buried her face against her knees.

He removed his hands from behind his head, sat forward, and lightly touched her shoulder. “It was a natural response.” No way was he letting her take any of the blame for this on herself.

“I suppose.” She lifted her head, breaking the contact.

She didn’t sound convinced, so he changed the subject. “I take it there was no security in your building.”

“If by security you mean cameras, then no. There was only the lock on the lobby door. Anyone could have waited until someone entered or left and slipped inside. It escalated from there, little things over the next few weeks. A bar of expensive chocolate, café mocha from my favorite coffee shop, a beautiful leather journal—all delivered to work.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “He knew where you lived and worked.”

“Yes.” She rubbed her forehead. “It was still fun, a game. I assumed it was some guy from the office working up the courage to ask me out. Then the gifts changed.”

He already knew he wasn’t going to like what came next. “How?”

“I came home from work one night to find a box outside my door.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “It was lingerie. Slinky, suggestive, and fire-engine red, with a note that said I should think of him when I wore it. It creeped me out.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if chilled despite the heat of the day. “Flowers and candy are one thing. This was a whole other level. I still didn’t call the police. What could I tell them? ‘Some unknown person is sending me expensive gifts’?”

He’d call a stop to this if he was a decent man. She was pale, the memories difficult. But he needed to know, to understand. How else can I learn empathy, right? At this moment, he hated not only his father but himself. He had no right to make her dig through her nightmare, making her relive it. And for what?

So he could complete an assignment and achieve a goal.

So he could save his own damn life at the expense of hers.

That’s what it boiled down to—her life or his. He was using her. He was no better than the stalker. They both wanted her for their own evil ends.

“The phone calls started soon after.” The quiver in her voice almost broke him, but she cleared her throat and pressed on. “Hang-ups at first. I’d answer the phone and there’d be no one there. Blocked number. I assumed they were wrong numbers or telemarketers, but they didn’t stop. I’d get eight or ten a day. After two weeks of this, he finally spoke.”

“He?” Statistically speaking, the stalker was most likely a white male, but it wasn’t smart to make assumptions. No one understood better than he that people often hid their true selves from those around them.

“Definitely male, but distorted.” She licked her lips and looked longingly at her empty glass. Sam didn’t offer to refill it, wanting her to finish before the chief arrived.

“He wanted to know why I’d had lunch with Kevin from work. There was a group of us. It wasn’t a date. I happened to be sitting next to Kevin. He’s gay, not to mention happily married. He showed me pictures of his husband and kids. The stalker accused me of cheating on him. Cheating? How could I cheat on someone I had no relationship with?” Her voice rose with each word.

Losing the fight with himself, he did something stupid. He moved to sit beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. She stiffened on contact but shuddered and turned her head into his chest. He did his best to ignore how easily she fit, how right she felt. “Someone like that doesn’t care about reality. They’ve built up a fantasy in their mind, one no one can live up to.” He ran his hand up and down her arm.

Reapers didn’t hold the power of life or death. Their role was to collect the soul of the dead and help it transition. But Sam was the son of the Grim Reaper—Death himself. He had no idea if he had the power to end a life, but for the first time, he was tempted to find out.

“That’s what Detective Ramirez said. He was assigned my case when I finally called the police. He called the gifts the ‘honeymoon stage.’ They took my phone but couldn’t trace the calls.”

She moved away and scrubbed her hands over her eyes. The sight of her trying to hide her tears made his chest constrict. “No ex-boyfriend or disgruntled coworker?” That’s the first place the authorities would have looked for a suspect.

“None. Like I said, I hadn’t seriously dated in years. My last ex was living in California. There was nothing more they could do.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and shuddered. “It got worse afterward. He was angry I’d called the police. He left dozens of nasty voicemails. I forwarded them all to Detective Ramirez. My stalker kept changing numbers, all burner phones. There was no way for the police to trace it. Every lead was a dead end.”

She jumped to her feet, went down the steps, and began to pace. He considered joining her but let her be, figuring she needed the space.

“I watched all my coworkers, wondering if one of them might be my stalker. Was it the man in line behind me at the coffee shop, the one standing next to me on the train on the way home from work, the deliveryman outside my building?”

There was no way to understand what she’d gone through. It was too far outside his realm of reality. He was an immortal being with paranormal powers. They might be curtailed now, but he couldn’t die like Adrianne.

She paced faster, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “I was afraid to leave the apartment, go to work, and shop.” She pivoted to face him. “You want to know the worst of it?” Without waiting, she continued, “I couldn’t come home. I couldn’t risk bringing a stalker to my granny.”

Being cut off from the woman who loved her, the one person she could depend on, would have hurt the most.

“I lost weight. I couldn’t sleep. When my work began to suffer, I finally broke down and told my bosses what was happening. They were sympathetic, at first, but soon suggested a temporary paid leave of absence. I saw the writing on the wall. Understood once I was out the door it was a short step to terminating me if my situation didn’t change. When my coworkers found out, they all backed away. I couldn’t blame them.”

“That’s enough, Adrianne.” This was tearing her apart. Standing, he held out his hand. “Let’s go inside and wait for the police.” It was new territory for him to want to soothe someone, but he couldn’t bear to watch her strip her emotions bare. Her pain was raw, her fear a living, breathing monster.

“I locked myself in my apartment for days. The calls suddenly stopped. I began to believe he’d moved on. The relief was overwhelming. I talked myself into going out for a meal, began to think I might get my life back. When I came home, a note was written using one of my lipsticks on my bathroom mirror. The door was locked. He’d gotten into my apartment. I wondered if this was the first time or if he’d been there before when I’d been at work.” Her eyes were unfocused and wild, her face pale as snow.

Sam rested his hands on her shoulders and shook her lightly. “That’s enough.” The utter sense of powerlessness, and the impotent rage ripping through him, were new emotions. He damn well didn’t like them. He couldn’t interfere with a mortal’s destiny. Not if he didn’t want to end up eternally imprisoned in Shadowland.

She sucked in a breath, pulling herself back together. “The police were at my place when I got a call from one of Granny’s friends telling me she’d passed away.” There it was again, the echo of old pain and guilt. “Granny raised me, but when she needed me the most, I wasn’t there. She was sick but hadn’t told me. I wasn’t calling her often, and when I was, I kept the conversations short, not wanting to say anything to make her worry. I was so selfish, so caught up in my own drama, that I never noticed the change in her. It was only in retrospect I realized she’d seemed quieter, more distracted.”

His throat ached from the force of suppressing his roar of rage. The unfairness of it all made him want to track down the Fates and snip the cords of their lives. “I’m sorry.” The words were useless, but he offered them anyway. It was all he had. No, it’s not. Before he thought better of it, he hugged her.

Offering physical affection was new. Oh, he’d had plenty of sex, but this was different. This wasn’t about mutual pleasure. This was about giving comfort with no expectation of anything in return. It was uncomfortable. It was also…nice.

“Me too.” She rested her forehead against his chest, her voice slightly muffled. “I phoned in my resignation to work to save them the trouble of making it final. Detective Ramirez had a plainclothes officer pick up my suitcases. The officer brought a wig and new coat for me. I left Chicago in the middle of the night.”

There were far too many loose ends, too many ways the stalker could have tracked her whereabouts, but that would have to wait. Sam released her and stepped back, putting some distance between them.

The rumble of a vehicle was getting closer. “Chief Johnson is here.”