“Sorry, fellas, I can’t give that sort of information out.”
When Haden stepped closer, the clerk’s arm subtly reached under the counter. Cale gave a slight shake of his head, warning him to stop.
Don’t do it, man. Being a hero isn’t worth your life.
And that’s exactly the payment Haden would demand if this guy had the nerve to stick a gun in his face.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me correctly,” Haden drawled, menace saturating his voice. “I’m here for the make, model, and plate number of that car.”
The old man cast a nervous glance over Haden’s shoulder. “I heard you just fine,” he said—reaching… “But I can’t give you the information you’re looking for.”
Oh shit, here we go…
Before the man could blink, Haden’s hand shot out across the counter and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, jerking him inches from Haden’s face, his pale green eyes flashing brightly as they bore into the fear-stricken man.
“Can’t or won’t?” Haden growled and then glanced at Cale, nodding his head toward the counter.
Moving on cue, he walked behind the counter to get the log book. “It’s right here,” he said, placing the black ledger on the counter.
“The gun,” Haden growled, reaching out his hand. “Hand me the gun.”
Cale pulled the revolver out from behind the counter. The second he slapped it into Haden’s impatient hand, he turned it on the clerk. “Were you going to draw down on me, old man? Is this what you were reaching for?”
The guy didn’t answer. Not that there was anything he could say to save himself now.
“I’m going to give you to the count of three to tell me what I want to know, or you’re a dead man. One…”
“I can’t tell you! I don’t know anything!” the old guy pleaded.
“Two…”
“Please…don’t! Oh Jesus! Please forgive me for the mistakes I’ve made!”
Cale’s gut twisted, a knot of dread stuck in his throat. He tensed—
“Three…”
A deafening shot popped in the small office and the old man crumpled to the floor. Haden looked down at him with vacant eyes—the apathetic stare of a cold blooded killer. The crimson pool touched the tip of his right boot and he lifted his foot, wiping it clean against the man’s leg before taking an exaggerated step back.
“Congratulations,” Cale growled. “You just killed a defenseless old man. You should be so proud.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Haden snapped, raising his arm to level the .38 Special at Cale’s chest. The revolver’s click chambered another round. “Or you’ll be joining him! Now hand me that damn log book!”
Cale slid the book across the counter and Haden jerked it out of his grasp. He flipped to the last page of entries, his index finger sliding down, searching the page. “Dammit!” he snarled, slamming the book shut. In a fit of rage, he swiped his arm across the counter, sending the book sailing through the air. Missing Cale’s head by mere inches, the ledger crashed into the wall behind him.
As quickly as the outburst came, it was over. Haden looked down at the dead man one last time and gave a negligent shrug of his shoulders. “I’ll be damned, you really didn’t know, after all,” he casually drawled, turning to walk out of the office. “My bad.”
As the door closed behind him, Cale spun toward Rowen and growled, “You know, we’ve all taken sides in this war. And there are things I’ve done and consequences that I’m prepared to live with for eternity, but the senseless killing of innocents isn’t one of them. This does nothing to further our cause. It’s not what I signed up for. The last thing we need is the incessant wailing of the innocent pleading for justice. And I’ll be damned if I want that vengeance brought down on my head!”
Rowen stood there a moment, watching him with that damn flat stare of his. “You’re getting soft, Cale—or weak. And frankly, you’re no good to me either way. So, buck the fuck up, or go back to Sheol,” he snapped, storming out of the office.
Cale’s scowl deepened and he shook his head in disbelief. Bastards… You’re all just a bunch of bastards…
As he turned to leave, he caught Rhen watching him from the corner of his eye, his face an unreadable mask. Rhen never had much to say. He was a good soldier, always did what he was told, took orders—never questioned them.
“What?” Cale barked.
Rhen cocked a brow and casually crossed his arms over his chest. Casting an apathetic glance at the dead man on the floor, he said, “You’re makin’ waves, Cale. What the fuck do you care if they die? Look at you, acting all ‘Mother Teresa’ and shit. You’re spookin’ me, and pissin’ Rowen off. So enough already.”
Before he could reply, Rhen turned around and strolled out of the small office, the soft chime of the bell above the door ringing overhead as he left.
Aw hell… Cale let out a sigh as he walked around the counter to leave. The dead man’s blank stare seemed to watch his every move, sending a chill of dread creeping over his flesh. How could the others be so ignorant? It was only a matter of time before they all paid the price for Haden’s stupidity.
Chapter Eight
The passing miles failed to calm Olivia’s nerves. Her anxiety prickled Liam’s flesh like a thousand needles, wearing his own nerves raw. He was tempted to reach over and take her hand—to let his calming strength flow through her and balm her fears. But he held back, struggling to keep those tenuous boundaries in check—boundaries he was trying like hell to respect.
He knew all too well the slippery slope of crossing them, and if he had any hope of walking away from this—from her —when this was over, he must guard his heart. Olivia had no clue as to the depth of pain and misery he’d endured while being separated from her.
That suffering was only compounded by the bond they shared, which allowed him to feel her emotions. And he did—every last one of them, every minute, of every hour, of every day, of every month. Every year that she mourned his absence only compounded his own grief. He’d considered it penance for his violation of Universal Law. It helped him endure the impossible. But, the impossible was now sitting right here, right next to him, in need of his comfort—his strength.
Liam glanced at her, carefully schooling his expression. Olivia met his gaze, her lower lip trapped between her teeth again. Sighing in defeat, he reached over to take her hand, threading his fingers between hers. “You’re doing it again,” he scolded.
“Am I?” She stopped nibbling and swiped her tongue over the raw spot on her bottom lip.
A knot fisted in his gut, heat flooded his veins, swiftly traveling south. His mouth watered at the memory of the way she tasted—refreshing as sun-kissed dew and as intoxicating as honey-flavored wine.
Holy hell… Liam looked away, but couldn’t bring himself to sever the physical contact. The heat of her hand felt too good against his palm, her long, delicate fingers wrapped between his. Already, he could feel her anxiety ebb as she drew from his calming strength. At least that was the excuse he used for not pulling back when he knew damn well he had no business touching her.
Olivia let out a deep sigh and settled into her seat. “Thanks,” she said, giving him a timid smile.
He didn’t reply, casting her another quick glance.
“Do you have any idea who’s following us?”
He nodded, not feeling too particularly chatty with his jeans suddenly fitting a whole lot tighter and pinching in places he’d rather not think about.
“Do you want to tell me about them?”
Not really…but he would. Perhaps the distraction would help unfurl the knot in his gut. “You remember that day on the boat, when we were in Clear Water?”
“I remember.” She smiled nostalgically. “How could I forget? You kissed me for the first time on that boat.”
Oh…so not helping. He pretended not to hear her comment, or feel the slight brush of her thumb across the top of his hand. “When we were on the boat and those
three demons came for you—it’s them. And they have a hunter with them, but I don’t know who he is. That’s why they’re finding us so easily.”
“How is it possible that you don’t know who this hunter is?”
“I know of him. I’ve heard stories about him, but I’ve never met him. I don’t know him like Rowen, Cale or Rhen. It’s complicated. He wasn’t alive during the Great Fall, which means he wasn’t created angelic. The Dark Court doesn’t possess the ability to create life, so he’s not genetically demonic. But he’s powerful, and gifted. He’s too strong to be a mortal—”
“Well, what else could he possibly be?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out. Some think he’s a Nephilim, but that’s impossible. They were all destroyed in the Great Flood.”
“What’s a Nephilim?”
“Angelic/human half-breeds. After the Great Fall, some of the fallen angels came to Earth and took mortal wives. They procreated and essentially infected the human race. The young born of these unions were inherently evil, and then evil began to breed evil. Eventually, there was only one pure bloodline left—Noah and his family.”
“You mean like ‘Noah’s Ark’?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. A Great Flood was sent to cleanse the world of this abomination.”
“That’s incredible. You know, I’ve spent my entire life going to church, and this is not the story they told us in Sunday school.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, well, it’s kind of the dirty little secret of the Bible. It’s in there. You just need to know where to find it. Genesis talks about it briefly, but the book of Enoch goes into much greater detail.”
“The book of Enoch isn’t in the Bible.”
“No, it never made it in. The scholars of that time didn’t feel it carried particular relevance to the message of truth and salvation of the world.”
“Wow. Well, although not exactly heartwarming, that story was certainly intriguing and…oddly disturbing. So, if this hunter can’t be one of those Nephilim, what do you think he is?”
“Dangerous. It doesn’t matter to me what he is. He’s a threat to you, so he’ll die just like the others.”
Her grip on his hand tightened, her energy spiked, sending that uncomfortable prickle racing up his spine. “You say it like it’s that easy. What are you going to do? We can’t run forever.”
“Vegas is the city that never sleeps. The constant commotion will make it harder for the hunter to track you. Once you’re safe, I plan to do some hunting of my own. I warned Rowen back on the boat that if he came after you again, I’d kill him. Apparently, the Dark Court has found his legion to be expendable.”
“How can you be so confident? It’s like you already know how it’s going to end.”
“Because I do.” Impulsively, he brushed his thumb over the top of her hand. He told himself it was meant to be a reassuring gesture and not the tender stroke of a lover’s caress. “I’ve lived too long and been through too many wars to be uncertain about how it’s going to end.”
She smiled, giving him that beautiful grin which always seemed to make his pulse quicken. “What would I ever do without you?”
***
Several hours passed in silence. Olivia stared out the window, watching as they endlessly passed mile marker after mile marker. Each one carried her farther and farther from everything and everyone she loved. Well, not everyone, she thought, glancing over at Liam and then down at his hand, fingers still intertwined with hers. She was glad he hadn’t tried to move it—not only because of the comforting strength his touch gave her, but because of the deep-seated craving her flesh had just to be near him…to touch him.
She knew she shouldn’t be thinking like this, especially when she had a panicked fiancé waiting for her back home. Speaking of panicked, her parents were probably out of their minds with worry right now. Her mother had been so happy when she’d announced her engagement to Mitch. They’d been so concerned about her after Liam left. “Liam… Do you mind if I called my parents? I’d like to let them know I’m all right.”
“Sure.” He let go of her hand to dig into his pocket. “Have you thought about what you’re going to tell them?”
“I’m going to tell them what everyone’s probably thinking—that I ran out on Mitch. It’s the only thing that will make sense to them. They don’t know about my ‘gift.’ I haven’t told anyone but Ashley.”
Liam looked at her and scowled. He stopped searching for his phone and asked, “You mean Mitch doesn’t know?”
Why did he sound so surprised? Olivia shook her head. “I never told him,” she replied softly, fidgeting with a loose string at the hem of her shirt.
“Then he doesn’t know about me, either.” A statement, not a question. And one he didn’t look very pleased about. He didn’t say anything else. His square jaw clamped down so tight, she was surprised his teeth didn’t shatter.
What in the hell was his problem? “What?” she snapped, wishing she could read his mind, or at least get a good look at his eye color.
“Nothing.” A cool, emotionless response.
“Liar...” she accused defensively.
“I don’t lie, Olivia.”
The lack of inflection in his voice infuriated her. Always so calm and collected. She wished, just once, he’d get good and mad—mad enough to tell her what was really on his mind. She certainly deserved his rage, and he obviously had something to say.
“Well, you’re omitting your thoughts. That’s close enough! Why don’t you just say it, Liam?”
Suddenly, he turned and leveled her with a look that threw off amethyst sparks like the Fourth of July. The furious blaze sent her heart leaping into her throat. He never looked at her like this. Despite the flare of his temper, she’d never seen him look more beautiful—or dangerous.
“All right... I will,” he verily growled. “I find it interesting that the man you claim to love, the man you were willing to devote the rest of your life to, doesn’t even know the first thing about you. You see in another dimension, Olivia! Don’t you think that’s something you should have mentioned to him before getting married? Honestly, it isn’t even fair to him. He’s not in love with you, he doesn’t even know you. He’s in love with an illusion of you.”
Olivia gasped in total shock and utter outrage. “That’s not fair! Take it back!” she hissed.
“I can’t,” Liam quipped, meeting her glare dead on. “I don’t lie.”
“Oh, you’ve made that abundantly clear! I can’t believe you just said that to me!”
“And I can’t believe you never told him about me! What were you trying to do, Olivia? Pretend I didn’t exist, that what we had wasn’t real?”
“What good would it have done, Liam? It’s not like talking about it would have brought you back! How can he compete with a ghost?”
Liam stomped on the brakes and jerked the wheel, sending the Camaro fishtailing to a screeching halt alongside the freeway. A plume of dust engulfed them. “A ghost?” he snarled. With lightning speed, he reached out and grabbed her wrist, slamming her hand against his chest.
Her palm connected with flesh-covered steel. The heat of his body, the flare of his temper, sent a jolt of electricity sizzling through her veins that traveled all the way to her toes.
“Does this feel like a ghost to you?” he demanded.
The rapid fire of his heartbeat slammed against her hand. His chest heaved with sawing breaths. Instantly, her anger diffused into a completely different emotion that awakened butterflies in the pit of her stomach, making her chest ache with longing.
“No. No, it doesn’t,” she whispered softly, her voice cracking with regret. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you that.”
Just as abruptly, he released her wrist, but she didn’t let go. Keeping her hand pressed against his peck, she glided it across his chest in a caress she couldn’t resist indulging in. A strangled groan rasped in his throat. This time, his jaw clenched for an entirely d
ifferent reason. His hands fisted, as if he didn’t trust himself not to touch her.
“I don’t know why I never told him,” she confessed, not ready to stop exploring. She knew this chest. As her fingers traced over the different muscular planes, she could picture the scars, knowing right where they were and how far they traveled.
Except the first time she’d discovered them with kisses, tasted them with her tongue… “I guess, maybe it was because it hurt too much to talk about you,” she whispered. “And I thought, maybe, if he looked in my eyes when I told him about you, he’d see something in me that he’d never seen before. And then he’d know the truth...”
Liam lifted his head and pinned her with a sapphire-marbled glare. “What truth is that, Olivia?”
She hardly recognized his raspy voice, so raw and pained—tears stung her eyes. “That I love you more...” she answered simply.
Liam let out a breath she didn’t realized he’d been holding, his heartbeat crashing against her hand. Reaching up, he gently drew the back of his hand down her cheek and whispered, “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”
Even that simple touch was enough to ignite a fire in the pit of Olivia’s stomach. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled, drawing his intoxicating scent deep into her lungs.
Olivia reached up and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, holding his hand against her cheek, afraid that any second he’d pull it away. For a brief moment, when his thumb brushed across her bottom lip, she thought he’d kiss her, hoped he’d pull her into his arms as if three years and a world of heartache hadn’t passed between them.
But he didn’t move—didn’t press that mouth she longed to taste against her own and kiss her as he once had when she belonged to him and no other—but then, that was the problem, wasn’t it? She did belong to another.
The draft of passing cars kept knocking against the Camaro, interrupting a moment she wished would last forever. “We have to keep moving,” he whispered, slowly pulling his hand out of her grasp.
“I love your eyes,” she whispered, reluctantly pulling her hand from his chest. “I always know what you’re feeling, even when your actions contradict them.”
The Redemption Series Page 39