Reap & Reveal (The Reaper Series Book 3) (15 page)

He knew it wouldn’t last.

As soon as she awoke, she’d be back to wanting to Ginsu his ass, no doubt. How long would they need to stay here? Would this one session be enough to set Maeve firmly on the road to recovery? He knew Deacon would be going bat-shit crazy after the way he’d disappeared with Maeve. But, hell. If he’d discussed his plan with him beforehand, he would have found a million reasons why it wouldn’t work. Why he needed Nate now more than ever.

Dude had been relying on him to be his wingman for way too long. Besides, Maeve needed him more than Deacon did right now. Even if she didn’t want him.

His heart skipped a beat.

This was all such bullshit. He hadn’t asked for any of this. Didn’t
want
any of this. Well, most of this. And he sure as hell didn’t ask to be special in any way.

Vanilla human was looking better and better.

But that ship had sailed and sank. Years ago, if he was being honest with himself.

Being honest with himself typically ended with him wanting to rip the head off something. The imps guarding the gates of Hell sprang to mind. Very satisfying to dismember he was sure. What he wouldn’t give to take out some frustration on one of the little bastards right now.

Shit. Maybe Deacon was right. Maybe he did need to be back out there hunting demons. If he could have tracked down even one of Maeve’s family members, maybe he would have left her with them.

He was starting to understand why Kylen got off so hard on the demon hunting bit. If dealing with these damn women was going to continue to be this frustrating and gut-wrenching, something had to give or he was going to implode.

Maeve shifted, mumbling in her sleep.

Burying his face into her hair, he pressed his lips against her ear and whispered, “I’ve got you, Maeve.”

He prayed it was true.

Chapter Eighteen

Ruth was about to go insane with Deacon’s incessant pacing. She and Olivia had explained to him over and over again what Nate had said when he left with Maeve, and still Deacon wasn’t listening. While there was no doubt he was hearing the words, they were not the words he
wanted
to hear.

She knew that the situation in Meridian was dire, but Nate hadn’t taken the reaper oath. Deacon wasn’t really his boss. The man had free will and had exercised it for God’s sake. And for the benefit of another reaper, no less.

If Deacon didn’t get some sleep, he’d be in no shape to go out again tonight. Even with his enhanced powers, the man hadn’t transitioned into an angel yet. He was still a reaper. Mostly. Without at least occasional refueling and sleep, he’d wear down. Sure, it would take much longer than it would with the other reapers, but it
could
happen.

Ruth was determined to make sure that it didn’t.

Nate hadn’t even been gone twenty-four hours and one would have thought he’d died by the way Deacon was going on. She was worried for Nate, as well. Her stomach did a little flip every time she thought about any of them going outside of the reaper compound. Here, she knew they were safe. On the outside? Anything was possible.

What Deacon was failing to see was that Nate obviously had feelings for Maeve that went beyond their partnership. Men were so obtuse sometimes, refusing to see what was in front of their eyes.

Forest for the trees.

Bo was even more pathetic. He was lying at the foot of her bed, his watermelon-sized head resting on his plate-sized paws. If that dog sighed forlornly one more time, she was going to go postal. She was wound as tight as a fishing reel.

“Why didn’t he at least take his damn phone?” Deacon paced at the end of the bed, holding the offending device in his hand.

“Probably because he knew you’d use it to track him. He doesn’t want to be found, Deacon. He’s doing the right thing. They’ll be back as soon as they can.”

“We need everyone on this mission before Camael has time to recoup and, God forbid, find another reaper.”

“Nate will be useless until Maeve is safe. What if all of that had happened to me? What would you have done?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s the same, Deacon. Open your eyes. Open your heart. You’ve been so focused on the demons that you’re missing what’s happening right here. Life goes on whether the world is falling to hell or not. Love finds a way.”

“Woman, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Nate is in love with Maeve.”

“He’s just worried about his partner.”

“Men are so dense. Think about it, Deacon. He’s acting out of something much stronger than concern for her as a partner.”

Deacon stopped pacing and stared at her, letting the pieces click into place one by one. The
aha
look on his face was comical.

“Finally.” Ruth laughed. “You hear something I’m saying.”

“This is bad.”

“No. This is good. What’s the point of all of this fighting without hope, without love? You’re fighting to protect who and what you love, and helping mankind do the same. Even if they have no idea what’s going on. Nate’s not doing anything different.”

Deacon sat on the edge of their bed and snuggled up next to her, raising her gown to rest his face against her rounded belly. She ran her fingers through his unkempt hair.

“The reapers around here are dropping like flies for women.”

Ruth laughed. “Three out of ten? Four if Maeve complies. Of course, Nate’s not officially a reaper.”

“He will be. Rashnu approved it. I was going to tell him when I got back, but…”

“What if he doesn’t want to be a reaper, Deacon? What if he just wants to live his life and be done with all of this?”

“Until the demons are put down, that’s not a choice that’s available to any of us.”

“Isn’t it? Isn’t it all about choices?”

“Woman, you are wearing me out. Is there another girl inside here who’ll bust my chops?” Deacon caressed his hand across her abdomen.

“God never gives us more than we can handle, right?”

Deacon looked at her and shook his head with a slight smile. “You’ve been brushing up on the Good Book?”

“All I have is time on my hands, Deacon. I figured I’d read the rule book so you didn’t have to.”

“How did you get to be so smart?”

“Good genes maybe? Of course, I’ll never know if you don’t help me follow up on some more of the leads I’ve found for Elaina Carter. Did you even hear me when I told you I dug up a local lead?”

“How local?”

“Very local. One mention of an estate sale in the Bolton, Arkansas newspaper twenty-seven years ago. Bolton’s only thirty minutes away, Deacon.”

“Don’t they usually have an estate sale after someone dies?”

“Often, but there’s no corresponding death record in the State.”

“Birth record?”

“Who knows? I have no idea which Elaina Carter she might have been. But the time frame—”

“Do you have an address for the estate that was sold?”

“Yes. 337 Birch Street, Bolton, AR.”

“I’ll check it out for you on my way home tomorrow. I promise.”

Deacon pulled her in close and she melted against him. His hands began to wander and he buried his face in against her neck, burrowing into her hair and kissing his way down her chest. Shooting a glance to the corner of the room where Temperance stood guard, she tightened and pushed him away.

“What?”

She nodded to the corner.

Deacon smiled. The angel was like furniture to him. Another example of his lack of attention on the home front these days. “Temperance, a little privacy here, please. You can fulfill your duty from the other side of the door.”

With the angel equivalent of a huff, Temperance faded and disappeared. Ruth heard her settle against the outside of the thin accordion folding door that separated their bedroom from the rest of the trailer.

“Thank you.” She gave Deacon an appreciative kiss.

“You’re welcome. How thankful are you?”

“Very.”

Chapter Nineteen

When Nate awoke, he was entangled with Maeve, both of them wrapped in the wool blanket and most of the fleece one as well. Radiating body heat, her face was nestled against his chest, the top of her head just under his chin.

She fit against him like the yin to his yang.

Before he could settle his inner debate about whether he should slip away undetected or face the music, Maeve’s green eyes opened and bore into him. He tried to read the emotion behind them and predict which Maeve would appear this morning, but it was a game his heart couldn’t bear.

Her features gentled and he couldn’t stop his hand from cupping her face. When she didn’t strike out at him, he smoothed his thumb back and forth across her cheekbone. Emboldened, he pulled her in even closer, wrapping his arms around her, trying to physically project what was in his heart.

“Rosemary?” Maeve asked, her voice meek and unsure.

“She’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”

Her shoulders shuddered and he felt a ripple move through her, followed by a heavy sigh. Her relief was palpable. Maeve pushed back from his hold and unraveled herself from the bedding, sitting up and pulling her robe tight across her chest. She curled her legs underneath her and leaned against the wall, keeping her gaze on him until he began to feel squirmy beneath her scrutiny.

Was she sizing him up for her next attempt at an escape or worse? She didn’t seem up to terroristic endeavors just yet, but then again…the element of surprise wasn’t a half bad battle strategy.

She leaned forward and Nate braced himself for her attack. Her palms flattened across his chest and she lowered her face to his, searing his soul with her penetrative gaze. Two more inches and their lips would be touching. He banished the thought, but then her lips parted and she slid her tongue across them, making them slick and glossy.

“Thank you, Nate.”

He swallowed hard as she held him there, capturing his undivided attention.

So many possible responses came to mind, but he was confident that nothing forming in his head was even remotely appropriate. Or wanted.

“You’re welcome.”

She rolled her body over his and landed on her feet on the other side of the bed. Her clean black hair fell down her back in a sleep-ruffled pane. When he remembered to breathe, he stretched his own legs over the side and sat on the edge of the bed, watching her take in the sight of his teenage bedroom.

When she turned back to look at him, finished with her circumspect examination, a smile curled across her face. “Someone had a hard on for eighties’ metal bands.”

He coughed and then laughed. “
Had
is the operative word. I was an angry kid. Lots of angst.”

She walked over to the wall papered in his drawing collection, touching one particularly disturbing work—a drawing of an angel consumed in fire.

“Prescient much?”

“They don’t mean anything.”

Maeve studied them more closely, pulling several from the wall then rearranging them. She pushed the tack into the last one and stepped back to survey her work.

“And now?”

Nate walked up behind her and stared at the wall. He’d drawn most of these ten, fifteen years ago. A chill built behind his ribs and filled his body. At least half of the drawings depicted roughly the last six months of his life, and the rest? He didn’t want to dwell on what the rest could mean. His visit to Rashnu flashed through his mind, both paths still crystal clear in his memory. Hell, they were all here. On his wall. He’d just never seen it until now.

Nate moved the drawings again, tacking them so that they laid out the two separate paths Rashnu had revealed to him.

His mouth went dry. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

She turned to him. “You don’t look so hot.”

“I’m fine.” Her robe distracted him from the drawings. It was disturbing how easily he could lose his mind around her. “You need some clothes.”

“That would be nice, yes.”

Her apparent calm threw him. He was pretty sure his current conversation was with Dr. Jekyll, but he wondered how far away Ms. Hyde might be.

“I left my backpack upstairs. Olivia gave me some stuff for you. I’ll go up and get it, and make sure everything is okay, then I’ll be back. Stay here until I come for you. Please.”