Reaper's Justice

by Sarah McCarty

  He came back, those long legs of his making nothing of the distance. His finger hooked under her chin, tipping her face up, revealing her hurt and embarrassment. And likely her desire. His thumb smoothed over her lower lip, and his eyes, shadowed with a pain she didn’t understand, met hers. “You’re second place to nothing.”

  14

  FOR A WOMAN WHO WASN’T SECOND PLACE TO ANYTHING, she was spending a lot of time playing catch-up. Addy adjusted the apron around her waist and pushed her hair off her temple. Today was just another example of the frustration she’d been enduring all week. As usual, Isaiah had not woken her up, and as usual, despite her best intentions, the alarm clock was mysteriously missing from her bedstand, and she’d slept in. And if Isaiah hadn’t ignored her the rest of the day, she would have enjoyed the spoiling he lavished on her in the morning. The extra sleep, the baked goods, a pot of coffee and tea, not to mention the way he always left her kitchen exactly how she liked it. But for all his efforts, he wasn’t giving her the one thing she needed. Him.

  She sighed and lifted her blouse away from her body. The day was going to be a scorcher. Being hot and sweaty just added to her misery. She touched the bite on her shoulder and played with tendrils that escaped from her bun. Maybe she’d read too much into that morning when Isaiah had kissed her hotly enough to burn the soles of her shoes. Maybe it’d been pity and not lust that had had Isaiah telling her she was second to none. Maybe he’d heard the rumors that always floated around town about her. Maybe he’d decided another woman would suit him better. Because he hadn’t touched her since. Not once. That was not acceptable. If she wasn’t going to marry her first stable choice, then she needed another candidate. And she’d already decided Isaiah was it.

  She gave the loaves of bread, so neatly lined up on the counter, a shove. They didn’t make a sound, absorbing her anger rather than satisfying it. Damn it.

  Humid air swept the room as the door opened.

  “Morning, Addy girl.”

  Reese. Try as she might, she couldn’t put any cheer into her return greeting. As far as she could see, nothing was going to make today better than yesterday. “Morning.”

  “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed again?”

  She straightened the loaves she’d disturbed, unable to tolerate the disorder. “I woke up just fine. It’s when I got to the kitchen that things went downhill.”

  He came up beside her and pushed one of the loaves askew.

  “Why not just tell him you don’t want him baking?”

  Isaiah’s baking wasn’t the problem. His baking and then disappearing was. “You’ve seen the man. Do you want to be the one to tell him that he can’t do what he wants to do?”

  Reese snorted and grabbed a coffee cup. “I’ll give you that he’s a big son of a bitch, but you have an advantage I don’t.”

  “And what would that be?”

  He smiled and motioned with his hand. “Curves.”

  She snorted. “Not enough for him, apparently.”

  Reese sighed. “Not that I want to see you with the likes of him, but there’s nothing wrong with your shape.”

  “Uh-huh.” She took a cup for herself. “That’s why I have so many suitors lined up outside my door.”

  “The lack of suitors might have something to do with your temper.”

  “Or my lack of chastity.”

  Reese’s perpetual good humor disappeared in a flash. “Has someone said something to you?”

  “Not to my face, but I’ve heard the whispers over the years.”

  Reese’s smile had vanished. She almost didn’t recognize the man looking down at her with such cold purpose. “Tell me who.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because killing people won’t stop the gossip.”

  “I think you underestimate the impact of a few corpses being lined up.”

  Addie walked over and got the coffeepot. The talk would never stop, corpses or not. “I think you underestimate human nature.”

  She put the pot on the table.

  “I thought you preferred tea.”

  “There are days when coffee has its place.”

  Reese held out a chair. “Because of Isaiah.”

  What was the point of denying it? “Yes.”

  “He’s not what you think he is.”

  She sat. “So you keep telling me, but if you’re not going to elaborate, you might as well stop hammering that point.”

  “So who’s been bothering you?”

  “No one.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m just being foolish.”

  “Foolish how?”

  Addy felt like rolling her eyes, stomping her foot, and maybe just slapping her cousin. He might love her, but sometimes he just didn’t understand that though she was his cousin, she was also a woman. “Did it ever occur to you that I might like to be courted? That I might like to go to dances? That I might like to have a man bring me flowers and say silly improbable things in my ear while we walk in the moonlight?”

  “Uh . . .”

  “Never mind.” She poured herself some coffee before handing the coffeepot to Reese. “I can see from the expression on your face that it hasn’t.”

  “I’m sorry, you just don’t seem the type.”

  “There’s a type? Being female isn’t enough?”

  “You’re just so self-contained, so always in control.”

  “I know. But sometimes I get silly like every other woman out there. And sometimes I want the same things every other woman wants.”

  “You talking children?”

  She almost choked on her coffee. “I’m still working on the courting part.”

  “I thought you were sweet on that Matthew guy.”

  He was being deliberately obtuse. “Tell me, Reese, if a girl wanted to get your attention, what would she need to do?”

  “Oh I don’t know, maybe tell a joke when I’m near. Wear a pretty scent. Maybe put her hair up in a cute way.”

  Good heavens. Her cousin was easy. “That’s all it would take?”

  “Truth be told, men aren’t all that complicated, Addy girl.” Reese took a sip of coffee and his expression went from amused to astonished.

  She groaned. “Not you, too.”

  “What?”

  “Everything that man touches comes out perfectly.”

  Reese chuckled. “What can I say? That’s good coffee.”

  “I taught him how to make it.”

  “Then it must be galling that his tastes better than yours.”

  “It does more than that.” She got up and grabbed a loaf of cinnamon bread off the counter. Plopping it down in front of them, she handed Reese a knife. “Try this.”

  She waited impatiently while he went through the ritual of cutting, buttering, smelling, and tasting, and then finally chewing. She wanted to slap him when his expression melted to bliss. “Darn it.”

  “I’m sorry, honey, but your student has the magic touch that takes your wonderful to fantastic.”

  It wouldn’t gall so much if Isaiah took that magic to her bed, but for some reason that he wouldn’t share, Isaiah was keeping his distance.

  “It’s aggravating, but I can’t complain, business is booming.” Reese cut off another piece. “But that’s not why you’re mad at him.”

  “It’s reason enough.”

  “But it’s not the reason.”

  “No.” She sighed. “I don’t even think he sees me as a woman.”

  For a long moment Reese didn’t speak. He played with his piece of bread rather than eating it, a sure sign he was debating. He tore the piece of bread in half and pushed back from the table. “He’s a Reaper, Addy.”

  “Do you know what that means?”

  “No, I don’t, and neither do you, but the scary part is, I don’t think he knows, either.”

  “Reaper” was just a grandiose term for a man with skills. “He’s a man.”

  “No, he’s not. I’ve been studying them s
ince they came here, and if they ever were just men, they aren’t anymore.”

  “Well, while you’ve been studying them, I’ve been studying Isaiah.”

  “And?”

  She turned her coffee cup between her palms. She didn’t know how to say what she had to say. She put her fingertips to the spot on her shoulder where he had bitten her. Though the wound had healed, the tingling remained. It tingled worse whenever she thought of him. And she was thinking of Isaiah now. Of the sadness in his eyes. Of how handsome he was when he smiled, truly smiled. How hard his muscles were to her touch. How soft his lips could be against hers. How great her world felt when she was in his arms. “I say he’s mine.”

  “An ‘Addy mine’ or a ‘Cameron mine’?”

  It was a standing joke among the Camerons. A regular “mine” meant “God help the one who tried to take it away.” A “Cameron mine” meant “the Devil better watch his back.” “A Cameron mine.”

  “Jesus Christ, Cole is going to have my hide.”

  “Isaiah is none of his business. Tell him that.”

  “I’m not telling Cole that.” He took a bite of cinnamon bread and washed it down with a sip of coffee. “I like my head attached to my shoulders, thank you very much.”

  “Then spin him a tale.”

  Now that the cat was out of the bag, there was no reason for her to pretend any longer. “Where does Isaiah go, Reese?”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Hunting.”

  “What?”

  There was a suspicious pause before he answered, “I don’t know.”

  He knew. “But you have an idea.”

  “Ask him.”

  She had, but he hadn’t given her a better answer. “I’m asking you.”

  “And I already answered.”

  Tears stung her eyes. Try as she might, she couldn’t blink them back. “Damn you.”

  “Aw hell, don’t cry.”

  She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She never cried, but the more Isaiah stayed away, the more emotional she became. It didn’t make sense and it wasn’t like her, but she couldn’t help it.

  “You made her cry?” The question whipped into the room with the snap of a lash. The energy that followed it was almost as deadly. The mark on Addy’s shoulder tingled, the spot on her thigh burned, and as she watched Isaiah cross the room with that predator’s grace, her knees grew weak. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

  “No.” She turned her head and pretended an interest in a robin outside the window. She might be pathetic, but she didn’t have to show it. Reese stayed surprisingly quiet.

  Isaiah looked from Reese’s set expression to Addy’s averted face. She was crying. Her blue eyes were dark, the lids reddened. A tear hovered on her lashes. With a finger under her chin, he tipped her face up to his. She resisted, but he persisted. As her gaze met his, he brushed his thumb just above her cheekbone. Just under that tear. He looked at Reese, his beast clawing at the cage he’d put around it.

  “What did you say to her?”

  Reese snorted. “She’s not crying because of me.”

  “The hell she’s not.”

  Reese finished off his coffee. “The hell she is. You’re to blame for those tears, not me.”

  He was to blame? Isaiah shook his head. He hadn’t done a damn thing. He hadn’t taken advantage of the situation. He’d kept his distance. Except in the mornings. After a night spent fruitlessly searching for the other Reaper and the pack from which he must’ve come, Isaiah had not been able to resist the lure of the dough and the small peace it brought him. The tear quivered on the edge of her lashes. Any minute it would fall. “Is it about the kitchen?”

  Reese’s “no” came at the same moment as Addy’s “yes.”

  Isaiah didn’t need the contradictions to know that Addy had lied. Deception was as strong in her scent as her sadness. Shit, he didn’t like to see her sad. It made his beast pace with a restless energy that echoed his own need to make right whatever was wrong.

  He tipped her chin up farther, forcing her head back a little more, forcing the tension within her to focus on him. “I won’t tolerate your lying to me.”

  Reese’s chair scraped across the floor. “You talk to her again like that, and you’ll have a problem with me.”

  Isaiah stared hard at the other man. Leave. He’d never had the mental powers of other Reapers, but sometimes he had the ability to influence.

  “Stay out of this, Reese,” Addy said.

  “Funny thing about that. When a man twice your size starts threatening you, I have a problem with it.”

  “I won’t hurt her and she knows it.”

  Leave. She’s safe.

  “You know, when you say it in that tone of voice, it is just not believable.”

  Addy caught Isaiah’s wrist in her hand. Her fingers looked so delicate against the bigger bones of his body. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being afraid of him. The world could be afraid of him, but not Addy. “Are you afraid of me, Addy?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Satisfied?” he asked Reese.

  “No.”

  “What more do you need?”

  “For you to step away from her and ask her again.”

  “No.”

  That was from Addy. Isaiah caught the tear on his thumb, letting it dissolve away before it could fall in reprimand. “Do what he asks.”

  “No.”

  Reese put his hand on his gun. Isaiah didn’t doubt he had it loaded with silver bullets. “I guess you’re at an impasse then, Reaper. Ask him, Addy.”

  She stared up at him, nothing he understood in her gaze. “Why?”

  Mine, his beast whispered.

  Mine, he echoed.

  Shit, he needed to be taken out back and shot, but he was helpless to resist her. He dropped his voice to a low whisper, “Because I need you.”

  It was nothing less than the truth. He’d fought the beast and himself for a week, but when he’d stood outside that door and heard her say what she felt, he lost the reason for his resistance. “And I’d like the chance to court you.”

  The blush that flooded her cheeks was violent red. “How long were you standing outside the door?”

  He smiled, liking the modesty mixed with her strength. “Long enough.”

  Addy shook her head. “You have lousy timing.”

  “Funny. I thought it was about perfect.”

  She huffed a “You would” before turning to Reese. “Leave.”

  “No.”

  Isaiah glanced at Reese. He understood the man’s stubbornness. If Addy were his cousin, he wouldn’t want to leave, either, but in this Reese didn’t have a choice. Neither did Addy. Neither did he.

  Leave.

  “You heard her. I’ve got courting to do.”

  “Yes, I did. But so did you.” Reese grabbed his coffee cup and swallowed the last mouthful, a slight frown on his face, as if he didn’t understand why he was doing what he was doing. “She wants it done right.”

  Leave.

  “I heard.” Isaiah had no idea how he was going to deliver, but to see that hope in Addy’s eyes, he’d do whatever it took.

  Leave.

  The door closed behind Reese and then it was just Addy and him, and the power of the attraction between them.

  ADDY couldn’t believe Reese had left.

  “How did you do that?” Not for a minute did she believe Isaiah wasn’t behind her cousin’s strange acquiescence.

  “I’m a tough man.”

  She snorted. “So is my cousin.”

  Isaiah brushed the hair off her face. “But I’m a Reaper.”

  She searched his face. “What exactly does that mean?”

  There was a long pause in which the backs of his fingers slid over her cheek in a rhythmic caress that sank deeper than her skin. A caress that felt a lot like tenderness.

  “It means I have . . . abilities that are different.”

  “How different?” />
  He leaned in. His lips skimmed her cheek, her ear. “You want to hear about that now?” He caught the lobe between his teeth and bit gently. “Or?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. What was it about this man that could steal her reason and drive her wild with desire? Because she was wild. Her heart was beating faster than normal, her skin felt too small for her body, and she needed his touch. She so needed his touch. “What’s the ‘or’?”

  He smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Me.”

  “For how long?”

  A shadow crossed his face. “I only know now.”

  A strange way to phrase it, Addy thought, but it made sense. Isaiah never spoke of a future or talked of the past.

  Addy forced a smile that felt very shaky at the edges. “Now is good.”

  He cupped her head in his palm and pulled her close, brushing a kiss over her right lid. And then the left. “Very good.”

  That rumble was back in his voice. It slid along her nerves, stroking them into life until she swore she could feel every individual hair standing on end in anticipation.

  “Do you want your worry stone?”

  She smiled, remembering how he’d told her to hold on to him the first time. “I’d rather rub on you.”

  His growl of approval was sexy. It was even sexier when he swung her up into his arms. She smothered her squeal against his shoulder. The last thing she needed was Reese to come charging in. The last thing she needed was anybody coming in. She’d never felt this way about a man. Never felt like she was dying a slow death without him. She didn’t even know she could feel this way about a man, but with Isaiah, she couldn’t imagine feeling anything else.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Upstairs.”

  She had to know. “To bed?”

  “Where else?”

  She had to ask. “To sleep?”

  She loved that he could take the stairs two at a time even with her in his arms.

  “Hell no.”

  That was also a relief.

  He paused on the landing. “You afraid I’m going to change my mind?”

  “You’ve been distant all week.”