Vengeance Borne (20 page)

“What was she like when Fate brought her here?” he asked, staring toward the door.

Trish laughed, “A smart-mouthed know-it-all. Not much different than she is now.”

“I can see that.” He sipped from the mug. “I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s…”

“Strong,” Trish said, the laughter gone from her voice. “Determined. A force to be reckoned with. Powerful. Everything they taught her to be. Remember that when your thoughts turn soft and mushy. Even a fetching young thing like Jacquelyn can be ruthless, despite her soft features and womanly body. She is a tool against evil and good at what she does. I’ve never seen a better hunter. We’re lucky to have her.”

“Even though she’s basically a slave? Conditioned and brainwashed and forced to do this job?” There was more to her than what Trish saw: a cold, calculating killer. He’d seen her softer side, felt her soul. Most of what she showed on the outside was an act. A hard crunchy shell to protect the soft, gooey center.

Trish leveled her gaze on him and her storm-gray eyes boiled with warning. “We do what must be done to protect innocents from evil. She was born to do what she does. Chosen. We all have our lots in life and this is hers. I’d hardly call serving the greater good slavery, would you?”

“She was taken from her family. Forced to live in a facility where she was trained like some sort of guerilla combatant. She’s never known anything else because
they
made sure she wouldn’t. They made her a killer,” Micah raised a challenging brow. “And they didn’t even give her a choice in the matter. Sounds a lot like slavery to me.”

“She did not
become
a killer, dear.” Once again Trish’s voice adopted the grandmotherly tone that was an oxymoron to her words. “She was born a killer.”

“No one is born to kill,” Micah argued. “They trained her, guided her thinking in the direction they wanted it to go. It’s an accident of misfortune that she wound up in the life she did. And that’s all there is to it.”

“There are no accidents, Micah, only Fate.” Trish took the bowl of water tinged with his blood and the rag, placing them in the sink. “Now, let’s get rid of these cuts before the infection sets in. Goblin scratches are toxic.”

Trish briskly rubbed her hands together, kind of a
Karate Kid
moment, before placing her palms on his lacerated shoulder.
Daniel San, there are no accidents, only Fate
. He would have laughed, but honestly, Trish had sort of killed his cheerful mood. Tingling warmth crept over his skin as it traveled into the open wounds, both relaxing and invigorating. Tiny pulls, uncomfortable like the sensation of having stitches removed, tugged at his flesh, and he turned his head toward his shoulder. Sparkling light, muted and barely visible, hovered above Trish’s soft, withered hands. She pulled away, the quarter inch-deep cuts closed and healing, save thin white lines to betray the injury.

“Wow.”

Trish nodded in agreement. “Not bad. I’ve heard your healing abilities are pretty impressive as well.”

“I guess so. I’ve never consciously done it, though.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance. Injury comes with the job. A Bearer is a healer, both emotionally and physically, and necessary to a Waerd’s success. Not only does our magic help the hunter locate her prey, but we carry her emotional burden, allowing her to do her job effectively. And if she’s hurt, we fix that, too.”

“Jacquelyn doesn’t like the emotional prying,” he remarked.

“No, I suppose she doesn’t.” The sound of the diesel truck roaring to life carried to Micah’s ears and faded into the distance. He let out a heavy sigh. “She left, didn’t she?”

Trish smiled, but her face looked tired, for the first time showing her age. “I’d better take a look at your head, and then you should get some sleep.” She laid a hand on his shoulder, and he looked down at the white lines of his injuries that faded away to smooth flesh. “Don’t worry, dear. Tomorrow’s another day. And Fate knows best.”

“I hope so.” Micah’s gaze wandered toward the door.
I hope so
.

Chapter 15

JACQUELYN STARED AT the dark brown espresso dripping into the silver demitasse cup. She hadn’t slept at all the night before after basically stealing Trish’s truck and driving home. There was no way in hell she’d have been able to go back into the house, though. A thousand lessons on emotional control couldn’t have prepared her for what she’d felt standing close to Micah, feeling his warm breath against her neck while she cleaned the wounds on his shoulder.

“Jax, you wanna hand me that?” Bree’s irritating morning voice felt like screws driving into Jacquelyn’s skull. Unemployment might not be as bad as she thought.

She handed over the tiny cup of espresso, emptying the basket and loading it with fresh grounds. Bone-tired and annoyed, the last thing she wanted to be doing today was making coffee. Furies were loose in her town, and it was only a matter of time before someone else wound up dead. And she still had no clue who controlled them. Too bad that damned Goblin ruined his value as an informant when he jumped Micah. A bullet in the head had been the only way to safely control the situation.

“Hey, Jack-lyn!” Pete’s eager face popped up in front of her, hovering at the top of the espresso machine like some kind of nerdy ghost. “How’s it going?”

She fixed her best customer-service smile on her face—the one she reserved for mornings when she just couldn’t stand being at work—and started the brew cycle. “Hi, Pete. How are you?”

“I’m good.” He flashed his game show host smile. “But I haven’t seen you in a couple of days.”

“Oh, yeah, well, I’ve been pretty busy. Helping Trish Whitney out at her ranch.” What was it about small towns that if someone hadn’t seen you for a couple of days they got concerned? It’s not like she’d been abducted by aliens or anything.

“That’s nice of you.” Despite his attempt at looking upbeat, Pete appeared more exhausted than Jacquelyn felt. Hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, sallow skin. Well, sallow-
er
skin. “Yeah, well…” She poured brewed espresso into a paper cup, and poured milk into a container to steam. “She’s all alone out there and I like it at her place. The view is spectacular. Plus, she feeds me. It’s a fair trade.” Ha. As if Trish needed help with anything. Although, the food was a nice bonus. She wondered, as she took the pitcher of milk and put it under the steamer nozzle, what Pete would say if she told him she’d killed a Goblin not far from Trish’s house last night. That’d keep the town gossip rolling along.

“This place just isn’t the same without you behind the counter. In fact…”

Jacquelyn turned the steamer knob to full blast, drowning out the sound of Pete’s voice.

“…tomorrow night.”

“Jax, where’s that mocha?” Bree interrupted as she turned from the counter and fixed a stern eye on Pete. “Pete, she’s busy! Can’t you see she’s making drinks? Quit acting like a love struck idiot and order something or get out. Shouldn’t you be at work? I mean, Willie just died. Christy isn’t going to get the lumber yard inventoried by herself.”

Jacquelyn cringed. Deep down, Pete was a nice guy. And even though she occasionally found his flirtations uncomfortable to the umpteenth level, no grown man deserved to be talked to like he was an errant twelve-year-old.

“It’s my day off,” Pete said through gritted teeth. He glowered at Bree before glancing behind him at the line of patrons waiting for their orders. “Besides, Finn has it under control. You know, you should at least
try
to be a little nicer to Jack-lyn.” Pete stepped away from the espresso machine, heading toward the door, an uncharacteristic swagger to his step. “No one comes in here to see you, Bree. You’re just a bitter, pathetic bitch.”

With unneeded force, Pete shoved the heavy glass door. It swung open and he rushed through before it slammed closed. Bree sighed, snatching the mocha from Jacquelyn’s waiting hand. “Sorry about that,” she apologized to the guy at the counter, handing the cup over to her customer. “Can I get you anything else this morning?”

Forget hunting evil demonic creatures, purgatory at Grind was worse than any punishment the Sentry could’ve dealt out. Jacquelyn couldn’t help but agree with Pete. Bree had been a total bitch, and embarrassing him in public struck her as hardly necessary. Sure, he was overly enthusiastic and tried
way
too hard, but a verbal spanking in front of a shop full of people? Harsh.

If she wanted, she could’ve shut Bree up once and for all. Her Glock had a way of zipping big mouths. But with Changelings, Goblins, a new Bearer,
and
Furies in town, dealing with Bree’s outbursts would have to be put on the back burner. When things slowed down and she killed the three supernatural bitches messing with the people in her territory, she’d talk to their boss about taking care of the day manager’s Godzilla-sized attitude.

“Hey!” Wes walked up to the counter, his gaze lingering at the scene of Pete’s dramatic exit. “Rough morning?”

“Yeah.” Jacquelyn poured soy milk into a plastic cup for Wes’s usual order. “People get pretty cranky without their caffeine, I guess.”

Wes laughed, his smile brightening. “Give any more thought to tagging along on the hiking trip?”

“No. I think you’ll just have to go it without me.” Why was he still pressing this? He had to know it would be awkward for her to tag along. “I doubt Finn will miss me much.”

“I doubt that, Jax.” Wes leaned in toward the counter. “Dude’s a train wreck. You really should cut him some slack.”

Jacquelyn quirked a brow, and grabbed a straw from the bin below the counter. “Yeah, well, you might want to tell your BFF to cut me a little slack, too,” she said, as she put the iced coffee into Wes’s waiting hand. Since when had he appointed himself matchmaker and healer of broken hearts? He might be in the “know” but that didn’t mean Wes knew everything about her and Finn’s relationship. Or their breakup. “Have fun on the hiking trip.”

Wes gave her a sad smile. “It’s not going to be the same if you guys can’t work this out. We’re supposed to be the Three Musketeers, remember? How else am I going to get the opportunity to stare danger in the eye?”

Three Musketeers? Stare danger in the eye? Jacquelyn wondered if the moon phase had everyone a little off their game. Wes’s lines were cheesier than usual. As if her relationship status with Finn had any bearing on things. She shook her head as she wiped down the counter. No
way
was Wes coming along on a hunt. Ever. Crazy-ass adrenaline junkie.

As the hour neared three, Jacquelyn sighed in almost-relief. Glad her shift was about over and at the same time, wishing she could work another eight hours. Trish’s truck sat parked on the street, reminding her she needed to take it back and face Micah. Not
too
awkward. “Hey, sorry I ran off last night, but being pinned between your thighs got me pretty hot and bothered. So I ran away.” Yeah, that’d work.

She untied her apron and slung it over her shoulder, leaving the storeroom just as the bell rang above the door. One last customer to end a glorious work day. But as she emerged from the back, she stopped dead in her tracks. This customer wasn’t there for coffee and apparently he wasn’t there to see her. Finn leaned over the counter toward Bree, his finger tracing a lazy pattern on the Formica countertop while he talked. He was getting his flirt on, brushing his sandy hair from his brow, commenting on Bree’s V-neck shirt. A corner of Jacquelyn’s mouth puckered upward. He’d used the same tricks on her. And, oh god, did the sight of him flirting with Bree make her want to gouge her own eyes out. Seeing him like that with another woman felt like a stab to the back. Broken up or not, she couldn’t deny her attraction to Finn. In fact, he seemed somehow better-looking than usual. His features sharper, his smile just a little brighter. The proverbial knife twisted just a bit.

“So, I’ll see you around seven?” Finn stared pointedly at Jacquelyn, dark clouds gathering in his brilliant blue eyes.

“I’ll be ready,” Bree said, her voice bordering on breathy.

Jacquelyn rolled her eyes. Good lord, he’d progressed to using jealousy to win her back. And Bree? Great tactic, butthole. Who better to take out on a date than the one person your former girlfriend can’t stand. She had to give it to him—his game was tight.

“Hey, Jax.” He flashed her a smile that could have rivaled Pete’s in its brilliance. “How’s your probie?”

She scoffed at the insult, suggesting that Micah was her probationary trainee. Meant to be playful, Finn had turned it into a slur.

“What’s that?” Bree laughed. If only she knew the airhead routine would get old, fast. Finn didn’t go for the Barbie type.

“It’s what the firemen call the new recruits,” he said, touching his finger to the tip of her nose.

“You’re dating a fireman, Jax? Who?” she asked and then turned to Finn. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Bitter anger shaded his face and his tone turned ice-cold. If Bree knew any better, she’d have been wary. “I’ve got to run home and shower, I’ll see you later.” He trailed his hand across the countertop, letting his fingers graze hers before heading for the door. “Later, hunter,” he called over his shoulder.

“I wonder what he meant by that?” Bree watched his backside with appreciation before snapping back to work mode. “Did you clean those steamers better than you did on your last shift? They were clogged as fuck yesterday, and I don’t want the afternoon crew bitching. You’d better check.”

Charming. You gonna kiss Finn with that dirty mouth? Blech
. Jacquelyn pulled Trish’s keys from her pocket and stalked toward the door. “Check yourself, Bree. I’m off. Have fun on your
date
.”

“Jealous much?” Bree sneered.

“You know what?” Jacquelyn yanked the door open and paused. “Pete’s right. You are a bitch.”