Believe in Me: Unbelievable, Book 2

by Crystal Jordan

  Love might need a little push…or a good, swift kick.

  Unbelievable, Book 2

  Tori Chambers. Old biddy, gossip, busybody and meddler. Except in reality she’s none of those things—she’s a guardian angel who specializes in helping people find their soul mates. Her latest assignment has had her tearing her hair out for over a year. She’s holding up her end for the fireman who’s her current client, but his soul mate’s guardian angel is dropping the ball big time. And when a replacement steps in, it’s enough to curl what’s left of Tori’s hair.

  Jericho. The one man who broke her heart—and made her determined to never fail her clients like her own guardian angel failed her.

  A hundred years ago, while fighting for Texas independence, Jericho made a mistake that accidentally cost her life. Now that she’s forced to make nice and work with him, he’s determined not to lose her again. Even if he has to tie her to the bed and make love to her until she’s willing to see reason.

  Because unknown to Tori, she is his assignment. And if he can’t find a way to convince her they’re soul mates, they face an eternity of consequences…

  Warning: Two humans-turned-angels doing very wicked, non-angelic things to each other. Tied to the bed, bent over the table, up against the wall, and plenty of front and backdoor action is enjoyed by all!

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Believe in Me

  Copyright © 2010 by Crystal Jordan

  ISBN: 978-1-60504-894-9

  Edited by Bethany Morgan

  Cover by Natalie Winters

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: February 2010

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Believe in Me

  Crystal Jordan

  Dedication

  This one is for my editor, Bethany Morgan, who read the prequel and said, “Jericho must have his own story. No, really. I’m not kidding. Write Jericho’s story.” And so it was and so it is.

  Chapter One

  Cedarville, Oregon

  Not all people need a guardian angel to find their soul mate. Then again, not all people have a soul mate. Guardians are only assigned to the ones who needed a little extra guidance, a push, some encouragement.

  In other words, Tori Chambers worked with the lost causes. The stubborn, bitter, damaged, scarred, wary pains in the backside who needed to have a cattle-prod taken to them in order to get them into a headspace where they might actually fall for their soul mate. In ideal circumstances, only one of the two soul mates needed the help of a Guardian.

  She was not currently operating under ideal circumstances. No, this assignment was a total bitch.

  Hitching herself into a chair at the one and only beauty salon Cedarville had to offer, Tori dug a magazine out of her enormous handbag and began flipping through pages while she ran the details of this hellish job through her mind. She had a never-married-but-three-times-engaged and thrice-burned firefighter whom she’d been doing her level best to prod, cajole, kick and encourage to hook up with a twice-divorced hairstylist.

  Mason Delacroix and Celia Occam.

  Tori was holding up her end of the bargain, and for the first time she was damn thankful for having a stubborn client, because once Mason had decided he was interested, he’d latched on like a terrier and refused to let go. The problem was he was just determined to get in his soul mate’s pants. He had no desire for a relationship, and there wasn’t going to be a relationship if Celia’s Guardian didn’t get off her ass and do her job. It had been a year and Celia hadn’t budged in her refusal to even consider a date with Mason.

  Desperation twisted deep inside Tori. How much longer would she get before this assignment was considered a failure by the Powers That Be? Her belly looped into an even tighter knot. She couldn’t fail. She just couldn’t. With what happened to Guardians after they’d failed…

  Fuck. Tori bit back the urge to spew the curse aloud, along with a few other creative, spleen-venting invectives. People would be horrified if old Mrs. Chambers ripped loose with the kind of swear words that Tori wanted to use. If she had known she’d be stuck in this little ’burb so long, she wouldn’t have played a gossipy old biddy. At the time, she’d needed to be someone Mason wouldn’t be interested in, so the role fit. Now, she just wanted to look like herself again for five whole minutes. She also wanted to get laid again, but a harmless old lady wouldn’t have the kind of all night long stamina Tori did, which was at least what it would take to burn off the frustration of months and months of no sex.

  She crossed her legs to squelch the need she couldn’t do a damn thing about and flipped another page in the magazine while she waited for the new stylist at Occam’s Razor to come fix her hair. Not that she cared about the white bun that coiled around her head. She was here to witness round one million in the battles of the sexes, when Mason had his weekly appointment with Celia to get his head shaved. He had a face and body that would put Vin Diesel to shame, and Tori had no idea how the woman had managed to hold out this long. She was ready to jump him herself. A sigh eased past her lips. As if she would. Guardians were strictly forbidden from fraternizing with their clients, and that went double for Guardians like Tori who influenced matters of the heart. However, other humans and other angels were fair game.

  Unfortunately, the humans who would be interested in old Mrs. Chambers weren’t exactly lighting Tori’s fire. She wrinkled her nose.

  A sharply drawn breath dragged her gaze up to the mirror, and she saw the reflection of a man frozen just behind and to the side of her. A man so flamingly gay, she had to bite her lip to hold back a grin. He was really working the stereotype in an over-the-top kind of way. Knee-high boots, tight silver pants and a black button-up shirt that hugged his painfully skinny body. He even wore eyeliner to make his silver eyes stand out.

  Those eyes. God, she knew those eyes.

  The hairs rose on the back of her neck, and she slowly turned her head to stare at a man who looked nothing like his reflection. Looking directly at him, she could see through the glamour that Guardians showed the world. She could see the man, the Guardian, as he truly was. Tall, broad, muscular, with dark hair that was just a little too long, and a face that was just a little too craggy to be handsome. But those eyes. Deep unfathomable silver pools. They were powerful, compelling, magnetic. They dragged at something deep inside her, wrenching at her very bones.

  “Vitoria,” he rasped. He rolled the “r” in the traditional Spanish pronunciation of her name, just the way he had the first day she’d met him over a century and a half ago. He’d even managed to keep the soft twang of his Texas accent.

  God help her. Not him. Anyone but him.

  “Jericho.”

  Chapter Two

  “Jerry, you know Mrs. Chambers?” Celia’s head cocked to the side as she studied them.

  The world snapped back into focus, and Jericho shook himself. He glanced in the mirror, taking in Tori’s altered appearance. Looking directly at h
er, he would have been able to see through her glamour as easily as she’d seen through his. For him, there would be wide amber eyes, long ebony hair, and golden skin rather than the pale features of Mrs. Chambers.

  He flapped a dismissive hand at the other stylist, working the gay angle like nobody’s business. “Oh, the two of us go way back, don’t we, sweetness?”

  “Yeah. Jerry.” Tori almost grinned at his performance before his long, callused fingers lifted to slide her hair out of its knot. The smile died before it fully formed, and she tensed to still the automatic shiver of pleasure that wanted to ripple through her.

  No. A thousand times no. She was not going down that road again. It was because of him that she’d been stuck a Guardian for more decades than she cared to count. Hell, it was because of him that she’d died in the first place. Because she’d loved him and he’d just used her for sex, for revenge against her brother, for any number of reasons he’d never bothered to share with her, but none of them were the love she’d craved.

  “Go out with me this weekend.” Mason’s deep voice yanked Tori out of her unpleasant trip along memory lane. He flashed his most charming smile at Celia, who didn’t so much as pause before she shot him down. The woman was on autopilot. Shaking her out of that would be tough, but from the look of things, that was Jericho’s problem now. Tori sighed.

  Celia kept her gaze glued to the razor she was using to scrape away the stubble on Mason’s head. “No can do, champ. I’m leaving tomorrow for a hair show and won’t be back for a week. Jerry can give you your regularly scheduled scalping while I’m gone.”

  Mason cast Jericho a disgruntled look, and the other man just shrugged, swirled a silver cape around Tori’s shoulders, and then continued to fuss with her hair.

  “She’s leaving?” Tori hissed, frustrated at yet another delay in a long line of them. At least this time she could take it out on someone. If anyone deserved her ire, it was Jericho. “How is this you doing your job?”

  “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he murmured. “And you could try believing in me, for once. I know what I’m doing.”

  Any response she might have made died on her lips when his rough fingertips slid against her skull, and her involuntary shiver couldn’t be quelled this time. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, her lungs seizing as her long-denied hormones rioted. Heat and lust spun through her so fast it left her reeling, and all he was doing was gliding his fingers through her hair.

  She cursed herself for a fool as she silently struggled against the pull he had on her. The struggle was a dismal failure. Her nipples hardened to thrust against her bra, and she crossed her legs tighter, but it did nothing to stop the empty ache that throbbed between her thighs. She could feel herself growing wet, the folds of her sex swelling. Sucking in a deep breath to try to calm her racing heart and slow her erratic breathing, she only managed to draw in his scent over the fumes of salon chemicals. The hot, masculine smell of him was so familiar, even after all this time, and the realization sent a harsh pang through her.

  His fingertips moved down to work the tension out of her neck, and she swallowed a moan. Her body softened for him, some muscles loosening while others tightened to ready her for sex. Helpless anger roared within her, and she pinched her eyes closed in denial of one simple truth. If he ever tried to seduce her, she was fucked. In every possible way.

  Just like she had been so long ago.

  He leaned forward to grab a pair of scissors off of the counter in front of the chair and his lips brushed her ear. “Think of it this way, Celia being gone gives us a week to formulate a game plan.”

  The last thing she wanted was to spend time with him, but the faster they got Mason and Celia together, the faster she could escape from Cedarville. And him. “Fine.”

  “Dinner tonight? To discuss plans?” His scent filled her lungs, and the need within her twisted tighter. Damn fate for doing this to her, for shoving her back into contact with the last man in the world she wanted to see. Ever.

  “I’ll meet you next door.” A little diner occupied the space next to the hair salon. It had good food and, more importantly, booths that offered enough privacy for them to talk without being overheard. Anyone who listened in would think they were batshit nutty anyway, but it was best not to draw attention to themselves. Humans just wouldn’t understand. Back when she’d been a human, she wouldn’t have understood either, so she couldn’t blame them.

  His hands began expertly snipping away at her hair, trimming the ends and letting them flutter in tufts to the floor. She’d bet her afterlife he’d never cut hair before. That was how things worked as a Guardian. If you needed a skill for an assignment, it just came to you. If you wanted to look a certain way, you just did. There were no wings, no halo, no white light, no awe-inspiring powers. Maybe because the human-born angels were the lowest rung on the celestial corporate ladder, but maybe not. They didn’t even have a superior they answered to—they were merely compelled to do the jobs they did. They woke up one day, their heads filled with the assignment at hand. And then they went to work. There was no fighting it, no trying to get out, no rebellion. This was what they’d been called upon to do, and they’d do it until they failed to get it right. End of story.

  “All right, that should do it.” He brushed a few stray strands off the cape. His silver eyes met hers briefly in the mirror, and awareness she didn’t want to feel tingled down her spine. “I get off at seven.”

  The words get off falling from his lips did nothing to calm her rabbiting heartbeat. “Until seven, then.”

  Jericho was waiting for her when she arrived at the restaurant, his big body dominating one of the tall wooden booths in the back. His long fingers toyed idly with the silverware in front of him.

  “Mrs. Chambers, it’s good to see you!” One of the waitresses offered a big smile as Tori stepped in from the door.

  “Thanks, Lindsay. How’s your mom doing?” The girl’s mother had recently broken up with her boyfriend, and as the resident town gossip, it was Tori’s job to make sure everyone knew she knew their business. This definitely wasn’t a position she’d have wanted for a whole year. She felt twinges of guilt whenever she spread people’s news around, but she had to keep up her cover.

  “Mom’s doing okay. I guess.”

  Lindsay’s smile wobbled a bit and Tori gave her arm a comforting pat. “It’ll all turn out all right. You mark my words, young lady.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Chambers.” The girl pulled in a big breath and her grin became more genuine. “Where would you like to sit?”

  “Oh, I’m meeting a friend for dinner.” Tori glanced up and found Jericho’s sharp gaze pinned to her, taking in the exchange between the two women. She cleared her throat and tilted her head towards his booth. “Bring us both the special and some coffee, would you?”

  “Sure thing, Mrs. Chambers.” Lindsay moved to obey while Tori approached the booth, sliding onto the bench opposite her worst mistake.

  “Vitoria,” he said in greeting.

  “It’s just Tori now.” Unlike him, she’d done everything in her power to ditch her accent, her old identity. The rolling Spanish inflection had made her stand out in the United States when she’d needed to blend in. She rarely spoke her native tongue anymore—not unless an assignment called for it. Her job was her life now. She didn’t need to be a beautiful, accomplished young lady any longer. There was no rich, doting husband to attract, no parties to host at her older brother’s hacienda. A pang of longing went through her. She missed Enrique so much—her only family after their parents had passed away. They’d been devoted to each other, so much so that she’d insisted on accompanying him in 1836 when he rode with Santa Anna from Mexico to fight against the rebellious American settlers in Texas.

  Rebellious settlers like Jericho.

  So long ago, and yet she recalled every detail of that time as if it had been branded into her mind.

  Lindsay glided up carrying a big tray, lowering it to t
he tabletop to transfer over the plates of steaming food and big mugs of coffee. Tori smiled at her. “Thanks, Lindsay.”

  “No problem. Flag me down if you need anything else.”

  “We won’t need anything else,” Jericho replied with a quick grin before switching his gaze to the other side of the booth. Again, Tori felt pinned by the intensity that burned there. After this many years of living, she’d have thought some of his intensity would have lessened, but not so much.

  To cover her uneasiness, she picked up her coffee and let the cup hide her face as she took a deep draught. Ah, caffeine. It wouldn’t help at all in settling her jangling nerves, but she loved the stuff, so who cared? “So…Mason and Celia.”

  “Yeah.” He picked up the fork he’d been playing with when she came in and applied himself to his food with gusto. “Those two aren’t going to make this easy. The last year of failed attempts is just going to make it harder to get them to break down and actually trust each other.”

  “Yeah, trust. It’s a fickle thing.” If there was a bite of irony to her voice, she didn’t bother to cover it. She’d trusted him, and he’d betrayed her. Discussing how to help him make a woman trust anyone was like twisting the knife that had been parked squarely between her shoulder blades for over a hundred years. Not that she was bitter. Much.

  His gaze cut to her, so she busied herself with her own dinner. He took a sip of his coffee, and she could feel his gaze on her, willing her to look at him, to make that connection, but she refused to give him what he wanted. They had a job to do. The personal shit between them could stay good and buried for all she cared. She was never going there again with him. His fingers tapped a light tattoo on the table. “We have to make this work. The last angel may have failed these people, but I’m not going to.”

  “Neither am I.” She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. “I have never failed a client before and I don’t intend to start now.”