Reaper's Vow (8 page)

“Hold on tight.”

Her arm clamped around his neck as he headed for the door. Her doll slipped. He caught it before her gasp could fade.

“Best hold tight to Dolly, too.”

She wedged the cloth doll into the hollow of his throat. He gave it another tuck as he explained, “It's been a while since I raced the rain. Might be a bumpy ride.”

She nodded. He opened the door. Cold, wet wind blew in. Wendy pointed to the right.

“You go out and go that way three houses.”

He squinted through the failing light. “The house on the right or the left?”

She checked her right hand, her left, and then her right again before deciding, “On the right.”

This time his smile was full bore. “How many raindrops we gotta beat?”

“A hundred.”

“We have to get there before a hundred raindrops touch us?”

She nodded.

“What happens if we don't?”

“The thunder god will get us.”

“The thunder god?”

“He's very mean. He makes your bed shake and gives you nightmares.”

She was afraid of storms. No wonder she was clinging like an opossum to his neck.

“All right. We're going to hit that door running. You've gotta do your part though.”

“What's that?”

“You gotta hold on real tight, and you gotta say ‘go, go, go' as fast as you can.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm going to run as fast as you say go.”

She perked up at that, clearly pleased to be in charge of the pace. “All right.”

“Are you ready?”

Her muscles tensed, and her lip slid between her teeth. “Yes.”

“You count. We go on three.”

She nodded and started counting. On three he sprinted into the rain.

5

As soon as Cole stepped outside, the drops hit him like pellets of ice. He pulled Wendy closer. It might be coming up on summer, but that rain felt like winter. He jogged down the street, which was quickly turning to mud. In his ear Wendy chanted. “Go. Go. Go.”

He didn't need the encouragement. He hated getting soaked. As soon as he dropped Wendy off, he was heading back to his house and a warm fire and dry clothes.

He jerked his chin at the next house up. “Is that it?”

Wendy pushed the coat aside. He pulled it back up. She pushed again.

“I can't see.”

He didn't suppose she could. This time he let her push it down. When she saw where they were, she nodded.

Cole stopped at the front of the door. Light glowed from the inside. Water dripped off the roof. He knocked and took a step back. The jacket moved.

“Just go in, silly.”

Silly.
He could imagine the reception he'd get, a strange man walking into a Reaper's house. Reapers were many things but defenseless wasn't one of them.

“I'll wait for your mom.”

He heard her hair rustle as she shook her head.

“She won't be there.”

“She won't? Why not?”

The child seemed to duck deeper into the coat.

“She might be looking for me.”

So much for getting to dry clothes and a warm fire any time soon. Now, he'd have to go in search of the mom. “It's not nice to worry your mother.”

Wendy shrugged.

He knocked on the door again. The noise and the voices within dropped off.

He didn't knock a third time. The energy seeping out from the structure was tense. Anger mixed with fear. Wendy shoved the coat off. With the innocence of youth she said, “It's all right. You can go in.”

He didn't think so. Keeping his focus on those threads of energy he asked, “Who lives with you?”

“Miss Cindy, Jenny.”

“Is Cindy Jenny one person or two?”

She giggled. “Cindy is a woman. Jenny's a girl.”

That would be two, and that wouldn't explain the tension from within.

“Do your mom and Cindy get along?”

“Mama says they do.”

That would be a no, and that would explain the tension. But not the fear.

Footsteps approached the door. Soft and light. A woman. He relaxed slightly. When the door opened, it was the perfect china doll who packed a prizefighter's punch to his sense standing there. Miranda. Her energy wrapped around his with a taut, wary twist. He wanted to reach out and pull her closer. Before he could, the connection cut off. He swore under his breath, barely suppressing the urge to charge after it. For a second she simply stared at him, making him believe, almost, that she felt it, too. Was it possible?

“Do you need something, Mr. Cameron?”

“Cole, will be fine, ma'am.”

“Can I help you, Mr. Cameron?” she repeated.

He ignored the hint and studied her face, the softness of her lips, the intelligence in her eyes, the pale, creamy curve of her cheek. Everything about the woman was perfect. Every feature a delight to his senses. And her energy . . . he caught a mental whiff of it again. Lust surged in his blood, and his cock thickened. Son of a bitch, her energy was hot like molten steel melting over his, surrounding it . . .

From the vicinity of his chest Wendy piped up. “Hi, Mommy.”

That explained the sense of familiarity he'd felt about Wendy. Her energy resonated with the same timbre as Miranda's. He shifted the little girl higher. “I believe I have something for you.”

Wendy waved timidly at her mom from the confines of the coat.

“You, young lady, were supposed to get some water and come straight back,” Miranda snapped. The edge to her voice could have been annoyance, but when she looked over her shoulder, the hairs on the back of Cole's neck rose.

Wendy's “I know” was guilt soft.

Miranda looked at him, then Wendy, and then back over her shoulder again. “We'll talk about it later.”

It only took a split second to note the lines of tension beside her eyes, the tightness of her mouth. When Cole looked down, Miranda's fingers were white-knuckled on the door. Something in that house had Miranda scared.

“Thank you for bringing her home.” She reached out. She had elegant hands with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails. It was easy to imagine her reaching out to touch him with those hands. To feel them sliding over his skin in a soft caress. Too easy. He didn't need this now.

“She shouldn't be out unsupervised.” His tone was harsher than he intended. Both Miranda and Wendy jumped.

“She normally isn't—”

The door opened farther, cutting off the explanation. Miranda's energy flared in a hot panic. A man with dark blond hair and pale gray eyes stepped up behind her. He didn't look happy. Meeting Cole's gaze, he put his hand on the jamb above Miranda's head. It was a clear statement of possession.

Cole's response was just as clear. Like hell. The denial howled through Cole like a high wind, pushing against his control. Trailing the gust of emotion came a whisper of truth. Miranda would never belong to this man.

The certainty soothed a bit of the anger prowling beneath his surface calm. Behind the stranger Cole could see a thin woman standing with her hands on the shoulders of an equally thin child with big, fearful blue eyes. Jenny, he assumed, and the woman had to be Cindy. She looked like all the fight had left her years ago.

Cole nodded to the man. “Evening.”

“Can I help you?”

It was a challenge clear and simple. Wendy stiffened. Miranda's energy flicked out and then pulled in tight before she whispered, “He was just bringing Wendy home, Clark.”

The man looked down. Cole didn't need to see Miranda's shoulders stiffen to know she tensed. Her energy telegraphed her fear in staccato pulses.

“It's almost supper time; why wasn't she home already?”

It was a simple question, but the timbre in which it was asked implied so much more. And all that threat packed in it ticked Cole off. A man didn't bully women and children. Cole answered before Miranda could.

“Because she was with me.”

“This is none of your business.”

“I'm making it mine.”

“He's—” Miranda began.

Clark cut her off. “I know who he is.”

Cole shifted his grip on Wendy. “I'm more interested in who you are.”

Mighty interested.

“The name's Clark. Clark Hastings.” His hand dropped to Miranda's shoulder. She jumped, and Wendy jerked and clung to Cole. He stared at that hand and rubbed Wendy's back.

“Good to know.”

“This is my house.” Clark continued. “These are my women.”

Beyond Clark, Cindy looked down. Her discontent filled the room. Cole gritted his teeth. He'd seen many a broken-down horse sport that same look. He glanced back at Clark. And many a bully wear that same smug expression. “That's a whole lot of claim for one man.”

“To a human maybe.”

Cole was getting damn tired of that attitude. Clark reached for Wendy.

“I'll take her.”

“No,” Miranda gasped.

“No,” Wendy echoed with a heck of a lot more force.

They needn't worry. Cole shoved a smile at Clark. Clark wouldn't get his hands on the little girl. “No need, I think I can make the few steps into the house.”

Cindy gasped and grabbed the bowl off the table. Was she expecting a brawl or planning on starting one?

Clark looked over his shoulder. “Put the goddamn bowl down, Cindy.”

Instead, Cindy clutched that bowl in one hand harder and her daughter harder still.

Cole elbowed past Clark. Miranda followed so close he imagined he could feel her breath on his back. He liked that thought. “Seems to me your women don't care for your temper much.”

“They're going to.”

“Uh-huh.” The house wasn't big. It was basically one room with what looked to be a lot of bedrolls piled in the corner. It only took a few steps to get to Cindy. “Are you all right, ma'am?”

After a couple blinks Cindy nodded. “It was my mother's bowl,” she whispered as if that explained everything.

“I see.”

“You don't see shit,” Clark snapped.

Cole turned and caught Miranda's hand, and with a tug he kept her right on moving until she was behind him with Cindy and Jenny. “I see a man comfortable with bullying women.”

“No one here is any concern of yours.”

“Well now, Wendy here is a friend of mine so she is my concern.

Clark's energy sharpened. Cole's sense that he was a man looking for a fight honed to a certainty.

Cole patted Wendy's back. “Honey, it's real important now you let me go and go to your momma.”

If the speed with which Wendy released him was any indicator, Wendy was as scared as her mother. Cole set her on the floor. Instead of going for her mother, she went for Clark. As hard as she could, she kicked the other man in the shin.

“You leave us alone, you big bully.”

“You goddamn brat,” Clark snarled and drew back his hand.

“Wendy!” Miranda gasped and lunged.

Cole blocked her lunge, caught Wendy by the back of the dress, and tossed her behind him, and in the same flow of movement punched Clark in the throat.

He dropped like a stone.

Cole pulled his revolver and took aim dead center between the bastard's eyes. Behind him there were more gasps. The only one not wheezing the way he wanted was Clark. Reapers recovered with impressive speed.

“Where I come from, grown men don't beat on little girls.”

“You're not where you come from,” Clark rasped as he sprang to his feet.

Cole took a step forward, slammed a hand into the man's chest, and drove him back.

“I'm here now.”

“Fuck you.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Stop it!” Miranda snapped.

“I will as soon as he does.”

Clark snarled.

Cindy gasped.

Miranda groaned. None of which did a thing to lessen Cole's anger.

“If you don't stop it, I'm going to report this to Isaiah,” Miranda snapped.

Sounded like a damn weak threat to Cole, but surprisingly, he felt a twitch in Clark's energy.

Clark snarled, and that wildness peculiar to Reapers filled the room.

“You say anything, and I'll make you pay for it.”

An answering wildness surged from Miranda. This was going south fast. She stepped around Cole. He caught her arm. Clark grabbed the other. She stood between them like a wishbone at Thanksgiving, her head whipping side to side.

“Let go of me, both of you.”

If Cole let her go, Clark would have her. Fuck that.

“Get over here,” Clark ordered, tugging hard.

“I believe she said she's not interested in your company.”

Wendy came flying past, foot drawn back for another kick. “Don't you hurt my mama again.”

Again?

Surprisingly, it was Cindy who snatched Wendy, feet kicking the whole way, out of danger. And the small drama broke the tension.Clark released Miranda.

Cole shook his head and looked at Miranda. “There's a lot of fire in that girl.”

Miranda shook her head. “I don't know where she gets it from.”

“Doesn't matter where it comes from. It needs to be curbed,” Clark growled. “Such disrespect won't be tolerated.”

“Seems to me it's not your call,” Cole growled back, letting Miranda step back.

“I've made it mine. So has the council.”

“That hasn't been decided,” Miranda countered.

“It's as good as done, and it's time you settled into the idea.”

“No.”

From across the room, Cindy caught his eye. There was a plea in her gaze he didn't understand until she looked at Miranda and then the door. Still holding his gaze, she released Wendy. Cole caught the child before she could tear into Clark again.