Page 9

Adrianne checked the readout on her phone. It was twelve thirty, ten minutes later than last time she’d looked.

She placed the device on her bedside table and resumed her vigil staring out the window. She’d written in her journal earlier, figuring getting her chaotic thoughts on paper might offer clarity and calm her mind. All it did was stir up unanswerable questions and bring back memories she’d done her best to forget. Sketching usually relaxed her, but not tonight.

She was too wired to sleep, her busy mind replaying the events of the last twenty-four hours. This time last night, she’d been soundly sleeping, living under the false assumption that the nastiness from Chicago was in the past.

God, I thought I was done with all this.

A shadow passed by the window. She jerked back, fading into the shadows, only to sigh in relief when she recognized one of the officers the chief had sent to keep watch. Calvin Jones was two years older than her, but they’d gone to Redemption High School together. As if sensing her scrutiny, he glanced toward her window. She stepped into the light long enough to wave. He nodded and resumed his patrol.

Rather than sit in his patrol car, Cal had knocked on her door earlier and warned he’d be keeping an active watch. Like her, he’d grown up outside of the town and was familiar with the surrounding woods. It was likely one of the main reasons the chief had assigned him.

Leaving her post, she climbed back in bed and stared at the darkened ceiling, determined to sleep. Her restlessness had driven Chester to the living room an hour ago, so she didn’t have the comfort of his warm, furry body snuggled next to hers. With no air-conditioning, the window was wide-open. Not exactly secure, even with an officer roaming her yard.

On the plus side, she heard every creak and groan of the house as it cooled and settled after the day’s heat, the deep hoot of a great horned owl, the rustle of the leaves in the light breeze.

All normal and reassuring. Nothing out of place.

Was her stalker out there watching or was he holed up somewhere? She shivered and pulled the cotton sheet tighter around her. It was likely the latter. He was too smart to come around when she had a guard. According to his past actions and all she’d read about stalkers, he’d use this to fuel his anger and justify more invasive actions.

Maybe I should have let Sam stay.

She bit her bottom lip, stifling a groan when her nipples jumped to attention. They hadn’t been this perky in a long time. Why had her body picked this moment, and this man, to come surging back to life? Being stalked had cooled her ardor. Dating was out of the question; everyone was suspect.

Her legs shifted restlessly against the sheets. She stilled when the bedsprings squeaked. Last thing she wanted was Cal checking on her while she was hot and bothered.

Her reaction to Sam was unprecedented. She’d been attracted to men plenty of times, but nothing this instantaneous or intense. Maybe it was no more than the heightened emotions of the situation. It had to be that, right?

Liking her rational assessment, she allowed herself the luxury of reviewing their interactions. Abrupt, blunt, charismatic, intelligent, and sexy, Sam was the opposite of her stalker. Secretive , sly , cowardly , and creepy were how she’d describe him. Sam was either a complete sociopath, able to compartmentalize his actions and emotions and turn in an Oscar-worthy performance, or he was exactly as he presented himself—a successful businessman and decent guy who honestly wanted to help.

Rolling onto her side, she punched her pillow with more force than necessary, her frustration spilling over. When sleep continued to elude her, she let her thoughts lead her back to Sam. It was much more pleasant to think about all six and a half feet of rock-hard male yumminess than her problems.

An image of his face appeared in her mind. She’d read somewhere that true black eyes didn’t exist. If that was true, his had to be the darkest brown she’d ever seen. In some lights, she’d swear they were truly black, almost impossible to distinguish from his pupils, accentuating his already mysterious air. Thick lashes framed them, but rather than soften his face, they emphasized the hardness of his features. His hair was the color of a raven’s wing, shorter in the back and longer on top. His cheekbones were harsh slashes, his nose straight and proud.

Sam’s body was as enticing as his face. She wasn’t the only woman who’d been staring at him at the diner—she’d swear several of them had to wipe drool from their mouths. Not that she blamed them. Having been held against his chest, she could attest to the slabs of muscle beneath his clothes. He might be a businessman, but he seriously worked out or had fantastic genetics.

Too warm, she tossed the single sheet aside. Her thin sleep top and shorts clung to her like a second skin. She plucked the top away from her chest and fanned the material, to try to cool down.

Snap! The loud crack came from outside. Bolting from bed, she put her back to the wall beside the window, her hand closing around the barrel of her grandpa’s shotgun. She’d gotten it out of the locked cabinet earlier, cleaned it, and loaded it. Straining to see, she searched the shadows for movement. It was likely a raccoon or opossum passing through the underbrush, maybe a deer. There were plenty of nocturnal animals.

The minutes passed like hours. A bead of sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. Swearing softly, she grabbed her phone and crept from the bedroom. It was time to give up and admit defeat. No way could she sleep there, not after seeing that picture of her lying in bed.

The moon gave off enough brightness that she didn’t need to turn on any lights to alert anyone she was awake. She set her phone on the coffee table. After double-checking to ensure the safety was on, she propped the shotgun next to the sofa before taking a seat. Something dug into her when she leaned back. “What the heck.” She reached behind and closed her hand over supple leather. “Sam’s jacket.” He’d left in such a hurry he’d forgotten it.

Bringing it to her face, she inhaled the appealing scents of leather and male, along with a faint hint of pine. After hesitating, she draped it over her like a security blanket. It was too hot, but she didn’t care, burrowing deeper into the lining. It wasn’t the same as having his arms around her, but it helped keep the panic at bay.

Gradually, the tension drained away. Experience had taught her it was impossible to remain in a state of fear indefinitely. Not and stay sane. Eventually, it became almost normal—body, mind, and spirit needing a break.

She clung to the garment, to the memory of Sam’s arms around her. He’d be back tomorrow—or rather, today, since it was after midnight—if for no other reason than to get his coat. Her eyes grew heavy and closed.

As she drifted off, she wondered where Sam was spending the night.

…

Sam opened the French doors of his room and stepped onto the balcony. Being on the second floor afforded him a spectacular view of the garden and night sky and a partial glimpse of the town, but his gaze moved to the rural area beyond. The tug in his chest was too real to ignore, his intuition insisting he return to Adrianne.

Unfortunately, there was no way to accomplish that without attracting unnecessary attention. Not only would he have to make the trek on foot, he’d have to evade the officer watching over her.

Walking lightly to not to wake the proprietor of the establishment, one Cilla Wainwright, Sam took the stairs down to the yard. The charming red-haired woman had welcomed him, despite his having only a driver’s license for identification and no credit card. Having Chief Johnson vouch for him hadn’t hurt his cause. Rather than drive away and leave him to fend for himself, he’d followed Sam inside and stayed long enough to convince Cilla to take cash for a room.

A hot shower, two cups of strong coffee, and half a dozen complimentary blueberry muffins had fueled him for the coming confrontation. Without hesitation, he stalked across the tamed section of the yard to one that looked as though it hadn’t seen a mower in quite some time. He shoved several branches out of his way and ducked beneath another, wishing he had a machete to make the going easier. The overgrown path eventually opened into a circular garden with an explosion of wild roses, complete with a charming gazebo almost swallowed by ivy. The crow perched on the railing.

“You could’ve joined me on the damn balcony.” He’d had his fill of trekking through the wilderness since arriving in Redemption. The bird’s croak resembled a laugh. Narrowing his gaze, he pointed a finger at the creature. “You need to deliver a message.”

Malaki, the feathered bastard, began to groom, making his disinterest clear.

“Listen up, my feathered friend. I need transportation and my credit cards, or at least more cash. The local law is suspicious, not to mention Adrianne. If I hope to remain close enough to complete my assignment, I need wheels. Since my ability to teleport and my preternatural senses have been leashed”—and it annoyed him to no end to have to plead his case through an intermediary—“I need extra resources.”

When Malaki swiveled his head around and stared, Sam threw his arms into the air. “I’m aware I can’t leave until the assignment is done. I’ve accepted that.” Like it or not, it was his reality. It was a brutal reminder of how little control he had over his life. And it stung. Everything he did, all that he was, existed at the whim of his father. “Or does the old man want me to fail?” He didn’t bother hiding his bitterness. For eons, he’d done all that had been asked of him, had never shirked his duties. Now, everything he valued was at stake. All because his father disapproved of how he went about reaping.

The crow lifted off, soaring into the night. A wave of desperation swept over him. It had cost him to swallow his pride and ask for help. Hatred bubbled inside him, followed by a sharp sense of abandonment. The backs of his eyes burned. As always, he was on his own.

His brothers’ faces flashed in his head. He hadn’t always been this solitary. They’d been a trio once, inseparable, as thick as thieves when they were younger. Time and the environment of competition fostered by their father had gradually driven a wedge between them. It all seemed so pointless in retrospect. Currying favor, working tirelessly, doing what was expected for thousands of years… All of it was meaningless.

If he survived this, he vowed to spend more time with them. Eternity was a hell of a long time to be alone.

Was this what his father wanted, to humble him? “Fuck it. I’ll find a way. I always do.” He’d taken two steps toward the overgrown path when a force slammed into his chest and knocked him to the ground. For the second time in the span of a day, he was flat on his back, staring up at the sky. It was followed by a surge of energy sweeping through his every cell, revitalizing them, banishing fatigue.

The night came alive with the sweet perfume of the roses. Stars spotlighted the white, red, and pink profusion of the garden; insects sang their night song. Closing his eyes, he swallowed heavily. Losing his preternatural abilities had been devastating, like severing a limb, or in this case, multiple limbs. Even worse had been not knowing if he’d ever get them back.

Only now that they’d been returned could he admit to himself how damn scared he’d been. It added another layer to his looming sentence should he fail. To be stripped of his powers and imprisoned for eternity was the stuff of nightmares.

He pushed upright, almost overwhelmed by the physical stimuli bombarding him. It had been less than twenty-four hours but seemed an eternity. His control was part of him. Until now, he hadn’t understood how much effort it took to rein in his enhanced senses. On a deep breath, he centered himself, sighing in relief when he brought everything down to a manageable level.

Out of curiosity, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. At first glance, it looked as though nothing had changed, but he dug deeper. Nestled alongside his remaining money, he found a familiar black credit card.

Now for the final test. He wasn’t sure where the officer would be stationed outside her house, and the last thing he wanted to do was pop into her bedroom and accidentally awaken or frighten Adrianne. The living room seemed a safer bet. He’d satisfy himself that she was settled for the night and then return here and make plans.

Usually, the imminent death of a person called him to a location. This situation was different. While he could use her spirit as a guide, that defeated the purpose. He wanted to remain unseen.

Conjuring an image of the room with its cozy fireplace and seating area, he gave a small push. A shadowy circle swirled before him, like a dark mirror reflecting an image of his destination. He stepped forward and into Adrianne’s home. The portal closed behind him. A pair of eyes gleamed in the dark. The cat hissed in his direction and bolted down the hallway.

“Mmm.” The slight noise was followed by a rustling of clothing.

He held his breath, praying the noise wouldn’t wake her. He’d expected her to be tucked away in her bedroom, not in the living room. When she made no further sound, he eased toward the sofa. Curled up in a tiny lump at one end, Adrianne snuggled under— Was that his jacket? Warmth suffused his chest and spread to all his limbs.

Like a child with a security blanket, she clung to the garment for comfort, as if it—or by extension, he—could somehow shield her from the monsters in the night.

The warmth drained away like a bucket of ice water being tossed over him. He was the last person she should look to for protection. He was more a monster than her stalker. The stalker was honest in his actions. There was no mistaking him for anything but dangerous.

Sam was lying about his true purpose.

Sighing, she twisted slightly until her face turned toward him, as though she sensed his presence even in her sleep. Her innocence, the pure light of her soul, shone around her like a beacon. He blinked and dispelled the precious glimpse he’d been given. It didn’t matter. In the end, she’d die like every other human who ever lived. Unlike many, she’d be brutally yanked away long before the end of a natural lifespan.

He could…

Stop! Even entertaining the idea of intervening could land him in reaper purgatory—eternal banishment to Shadowland.

This was why an emotional connection to a human was dangerous. It made it more challenging to carry out his duties as a reaper. This entire assignment made no sense. He rolled his shoulders to release the tension gripping his muscles. It didn’t help. Nothing would. The faster this was over, the better it would be for him…and the worse it would be for Adrianne.

He conjured a portal to take him back to his room—no need to muck about in the overgrown rose garden—but he hesitated. Swearing under his breath, he smoothed a finger over her hair. One of the damp curls wrapped around it. She couldn’t be comfortable sleeping with the heavy leather over her, but she hadn’t tossed it away despite the heat.

She sniffed, lines furrowing her forehead. He made a quick exit as her eyes began to flutter open. “Sam?” The sound of her voice followed him back to his room at the inn.

“Fuck.” He threw himself down on the bed and laid his arm over his eyes. That was close. He had to be more careful going forward and not allow his attraction and, yes, his growing empathy to derail him from the task at hand.

He lifted his arm and stared at his finger where he’d touched her. Her lips had been parted, her face flushed. It would have been all too easy to lower his head and steal a kiss without her being the wiser. That he’d considered it was a flashing red warning.

Danger! Danger!

Neither his big head nor his small one wanted to heed it. His dick was hard and aching. For once, not any woman would do. Only Adrianne could quell the fires of desire burning within him.

If it wasn’t after two in the morning, he’d take the coldest shower possible. Waking the other guests wouldn’t endear him to anyone. Sitting up, he unlaced his boots and removed them. Every muscle in his body was tense. He rubbed the back of his neck, but it didn’t help. Giving in to the inevitable, he stripped off his clothes and sprawled on the bed. The breeze from the open French doors did little to cool him.

The only thing that would help would be having Adrianne naked beside him while he made love to her. That could never happen. It was too dangerous. Ignoring his raging hard-on, he began to sift through ideas for getting closer to her without becoming too attached. It was enough to give him a headache, if such a thing were possible.

This assignment was too important to mess up. Sam was cognizant of the fact his powers could be yanked away at his father’s whim, something he hadn’t been aware of until now.

Once he was finished in Redemption, his next course of action would be to find a way to ensure it never happened again. Yes, the Grim Reaper was one of the most, if not the most, powerful being in existence, but that wouldn’t stop Sam. There had to be a way around it.

And when this assignment was done, he was damn well going to find it. No way did he ever want to find himself in such a situation again.

Closing his eyes, he drifted off to an image of Adrianne hugging his coat.