The Angel of Death (The Soul Summoner Book 3) (11 page)

A smile crept over her face. “So what happened in his bedroom?”

My mouth fell open. “We’re not talking about that.”

“Tongue or no tongue?” she pressed.

I got up and walked toward the bathroom.

She followed me. “Was there nakedness?”

“Adrianne!”

I tried to shut the bathroom door in her face, but she blocked it with her long arm. “Serious question though.”

I put my hand on my hip.

“If you weren’t pregnant, what would’ve happened?”
 

My shoulders dropped.

She pointed at me. “Bingo.”

7.

Adrianne made up the couch for me to sleep on, but sleep never came. My brain replayed the nightmares over and over again. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the figure in the corner of my room. At six, I gave up and got ready for work.

Sleep wasn’t so elusive once I got to my office. I woke up drooling on my desk, not once but three times during the day. By five o’clock, I was running on autopilot, but I’d promised my dad we’d have our regularly scheduled Monday night dinner, and I was desperate to talk to him more about the FBI.
 

When I walked out of the building, Nathan was walking up the steps. I narrowed my eyes. “Did Adrianne call you?”

He met me half-way. “She sent me a text message to come by today. I thought it was strange. What did you do?”

My brow wrinkled. “Why would you assume I did something?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
 

I rolled my eyes and walked down the stairs. Nathan fell in step beside me.

“Adrianne’s worried because I had a pretty bad nightmare last night. I showed up at her house at three this morning.” From the corner of my eye, I saw he was suppressing a smile. I pointed at him. “Don’t you dare laugh at me. You don’t know how bad it was.”

“Tell me about it,” he said.

“I dreamed someone cut the baby out of my stomach, then when I woke up screaming, something—or someone—was in my room, and it tried to crush me in my bed,” I said as we crossed the lot.

He stopped walking. “Were you really awake?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. After that, I got up and went downstairs, but I heard something or someone outside. I looked through the peep hole and maybe saw a man, but when I looked again, he was gone.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

I kicked my toe against the gravel on the asphalt. “Because things are weird with us right now.”

He rested his hands below the sides of his tactical belt.

“That’s when I drove to Adrianne’s. She thought I should tell you.”

For a few moments, he stared down at the ground. Then he cut his eyes up at me. “I’m coming to your house tonight.”

“I’ll sleep on Adrianne’s couch—”

He pointed at me. “No, you’re not. What if that was a person standing on your porch or in your room? I’ll sleep in the guest bed till we figure something else out.”

“Nathan, I—”

He cut me off again. “Stop arguing. We’ve already seen what Kasyade is capable of, so we’re not playing around with this shit anymore.” He sighed. “I promised Warren, Sloan.”

I put my hands on my hips. “He might feel differently given what’s already happened.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you not think he weighed that out before he asked me? He was worried enough to still take that chance, obviously with good reason.”

I scowled but had no argument.

“When and where are you having dinner with your dad?”

“Red Stag in half an hour.”

“Then I’ll be at your place around eight.” He turned on his heel and headed toward his tan SUV.
 

“Nathan, this is a bad idea,” I called after him.

He stopped and looked back at me, laughing sarcastically. “When have we ever done anything that’s been a good idea? I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

Before I could protest further, he got into his car and slammed the door.

* * *

Thanks to Nathan’s untimely visit, if I didn’t hurry, I would be late for dinner with my dad.
 

There was a little-known shortcut through town involving a questionable road by the park and passing through two parking lots marked with No Entry signs. When I exited the first parking lot, I noticed a set of headlights in my rearview mirror.
 

When I entered the second parking lot, the lights were still behind me. I reached out with my gift, but my sixth sense was choppy and vague because I was distracted by driving.

I hoped Nathan was being overprotective and had decided to follow me. I dialed his number.

“McNamara,” he answered.

“Hey, it’s me.” I turned left onto the main highway toward the Biltmore Estate. “Where are you?”

It was loud wherever he was. “Just walked into the jail to wrap things up.”

“Someone might be following me,” I said.

“Where are you?” he asked.

I checked my surroundings. “On highway twenty-five, near Biltmore. I’m almost at the Red Stag.”

He was quiet for a second. “As soon as you get there, park in a well-lit area and get inside as fast as you can. I can’t leave right now, but stay at the restaurant till I get there. I’ll follow you home.”

“OK.”

“Sloan!”

“What?”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said.

I rolled my eyes and pulled into the parking lot of the Bohemian Hotel. “I won’t.”

“Stay on the phone with me till you get inside,” he said.

When I put the car in park, I looked back over my shoulder. A car stopped on the curb of the street a block down from the hotel. “I can’t be sure because it’s dark and there are so many cars, but they might have parked near McDonald’s.”

“Can you tell what kind of car?” he asked.

“Of course not.” I grabbed my purse and bolted from my car toward the entrance. When I slid to a stop in the lobby, I was breathless. “I’m inside.”

“Stay there,” he said. “I’ll be there by the time you’re done.” He disconnected the line.

I loved the Red Stag Grill for its ambiance and perfect mix of gnarly mountain cuisine and trendy pretension. Only around Biltmore could venison and rainbow trout feel snobbish. The room flaunted rich shades of brown and red with a warm glow from honey-colored lamps illuminating its many guests. In the corner, an enormous Christmas tree, trimmed with holly berries and flameless lanterns, stood beneath the mounted head of a twelve-point buck. My father waved from a table between the bar and the silent baby grand piano.
 

A hardwood path wove in and out of crimson, candlelit tables across the room. When I reached my dad, he offered his cheek for a kiss. I obliged before pulling off my pea coat and sliding into my seat. “I’m sorry I’m late,” I said, draping the cloth napkin over my lap. “It was a weird drive here.”

“Weird drive?” he asked.

“Yeah. I think I was followed.”

“Followed?” The alarm in his voice drove his pitch up an octave.

I nodded. “I called Nathan. He’s meeting me here before we leave to make sure I get home OK.”

Dad’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s good. I expected him to be with you.”

“Not for dinner, but I’m sure you’ll get to see him before the night’s over.” I opened the menu and looked over the choices. “I wonder what wild boar tastes like. What are you ordering, Dad?”

He pointed to his menu. “I believe I’ll have the halibut.”

I scanned the entry and frowned. “What on earth are duck fat baby potatoes?”

He chuckled and took a sip of his water. “They’re tiny little potatoes. Very tasty. How’s Nathan?”

“He’s good.” I looked over the top of my menu at Dad. “Why is the fish here so expensive? Don’t they yank them out of the river out back?”

Dad smiled. “I doubt that, but I
know
this is a lot cheaper than burning down the kitchen at home.”

I laughed. “Good point.”

He leaned toward me. “Why do I feel like you’re avoiding Nathan as a topic of dinner conversation?”

I forced my lips into a smile. “I’m not,” I lied. The truth was I knew I couldn’t talk about my weekend with Nathan without blushing, and the last thing I wanted was for Dad to know Nathan was going home with me after dinner.

By the grace of God and all the good karma in the universe, our waiter appeared at the table with a basket of sliced multigrain baguettes. “Ma’am, would you be interested in a glass of wine?”

I blew out a sigh that puffed out my cheeks. “Oh, I’m interested, but no. Water will be fine.”

“May I take your dinner order, then?” he asked.

I pointed across the table. “Start with him.”

Dad ordered his fish, then both men stared expectantly at me.

I looked up at my dad, tapping my fingers against the sides of the menu. “Can I just have the chocolate lava cake?”

“No.”

I frowned. “Then I guess I’ll order the meatloaf.” I closed my menu and handed it to the waiter.

Dad buttered a slice of bread. “How was the funeral?”

Heat rose in my cheeks. “It was very emotional.” I picked up my water goblet and drained half of it.

Dad chuckled. “Are you OK?”

“Yup.”

His brow rose in question. “Sloan?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re as red as a beet,” he said. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

He pointed his butter knife at me. “You’re lying.”

I scrunched up my nose. “That’s twice in two days I’ve been called a liar.”

He put the knife on the plate and lifted the bread. “Well, at least half the time it’s been true. Who else called you a liar?”

“The FBI.”

His hand froze midway to his mouth. “They found you, then?”

“Yeah. They were waiting at my house yesterday when we got back, and my guess would be they’re following me now,” I said.
 

He looked around the room. “What do they want with you?”

I turned my palms up. “I’m not really sure, except they believe I was lying in Texas about my relationship with Abigail.”

“You
were
lying to them in Texas,” he said, taking a bite of his bread.

“Was I supposed to tell them the truth?” I scoffed at the thought. “Do you want them to lock me up in the loony bin?”

Dad pressed his lips together in a tight grimace. “It’d be better than prison.”

I groaned. “What did they say to you?”

The waiter returned with our salads. I smiled and thanked him.

Dad poured dressing over his wedge of iceberg lettuce. “Not much. They asked where they could find you. I said you were attending a funeral out of town with a friend. They inquired about Nathan. Apparently, they were under the impression the two of you were a couple. I set them straight.”

“Ahh…that makes sense,” I said.

“What makes sense?” he asked.

I skewered a grape tomato. “Nathan told them we were together. I was wondering how they found out we weren’t.”

Dad’s eyebrow peaked. “Why would he do that?”

I rolled my eyes. “Because he’s an idiot.”

He folded his arms on the tabletop. “While we’re on the subject…”

My fork clinked against the china when I dropped it onto the salad plate.

“Are you taking my advice and minding your boundaries with him?”

He wasn’t going to let it go. I sat back hard in my seat and stared at him. “Dad, I’ve had two attempts made on my life in the past two months and have been promised that more will come. I’ve done my best to keep a safe distance from Nathan, but he’s staying close to protect me like he promised Warren he would. Please stop insinuating I’m becoming the Harlot of West Asheville.”

Dad couldn’t suppress his laughter. “Are you a little defensive, my dear?”

“Yes.”

“Pregnancy hormones will do that to you,” he said.

I picked up my fork again and stabbed an innocent crouton. “So will meddlesome fathers.”

He chuckled behind his napkin. “All right. No more questions about Nathan, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

His head fell to the side. “Is he following you home so he can stay with you?”

“Dad!”

* * *

Nathan arrived at dinner in time for dessert, and he pulled up a chair to our table set for two. He shook my father’s hand. “Sorry to crash your date, Dr. Jordan.”

Dad waved his napkin. “Nonsense. I’m glad you’re here.”

I handed Nathan the dessert menu. “Did you see anything strange outside?”

He shook his head. “No, but I’ll keep an eye out on our drive to your house.” He pointed to my plate. “What is that?”

“Chocolate lava cake. Do you want some?” I asked, offering him the bite on my fork.

He leaned over and opened his mouth. As the tines scraped across his teeth, I caught my dad rolling his eyes in my peripheral. I credited myself with paying attention to my father and not to Nathan’s lips as he licked a drizzle of chocolate off them. Damn hormones.

The waiter stopped by and Nathan ordered a cup of coffee.
 

“No cake?” I asked, surprised.

He patted his flat stomach. “Trying to watch my figure.”

I laughed. “Whatever, Captain Skittles.”

He smiled at me, then rested his elbows on the table and lowered his voice. “What makes you think someone followed you here?”

I wiped crumbs off my mouth. “I took a few obscure back roads and headlights were behind me the whole way.”

“Was the driver human?” he asked barely above a whisper.

“I’m not sure. They were far away and I was driving so I couldn’t concentrate.”

The waiter returned with Nathan’s coffee, and he wrapped his hands around the steaming mug. “I’m sure it’s the FBI. You’ve probably got eyes on you in this very room.”

I carefully scanned the other tables. “Right now?”

He nodded and scooped a finger full of chocolate icing off my plate. “You need to be careful. They could tap your phone and bug your house too.”

I pushed what was left on the plate toward him, and he grinned and picked up my fork.

“Can they do that?” Dad asked.

“They can if they get a warrant for it.” He grimaced. “And I hate to say it, but if I were a judge, I’d issue one in this case.”

I dropped my face into my hands.

Nathan squeezed my shoulder. “They still can’t prove you’re involved because you’re not. I’ll make some calls tomorrow and see what I can find out. Don’t worry till there’s a reason to.”