by J E McDonald
That explained his fatigue last night, but it didn’t matter. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.” And what did she mean by misjudging him? What did that mean for the state of his soul? The temptation to ask was outweighed by not wanting to know the answer.
“You already did, before you left the house. And I’m telling you now, all is forgiven. I’ve done worse. I forced a good luck spell on a person who didn’t ask for it. What you did was less intrusive than that.” She shook her head lightly. “I shouted because the transfer of energy startled me, not because you hurt me. You’re very…virile. And so is your energy.” She looked away then, along the street where cars drove up and down, where shoppers took in the sights and sounds of old downtown. “I know you care about Aubrey. I felt it. And she’s like a sister to me. I only want her to be happy and safe.”
“Me too. She deserves it.” Which meant he wasn’t the guy for her. His life was far from “safe.”
“I think you both do.”
The witch had successfully surprised him twice. Something not easily done.
Before he could contradict her statement, she asked, “What are you going to do about him? Her brother?”
And they’d circled back to what made him who he was. “I’m going to work,” he said with a nod, then left her on the sidewalk to head to his truck four blocks away.
When it came to demons, he was very good at what he did. And he especially needed to be good at it when Aubrey’s safety was on the line. Not only that, Finn needed vengeance and peace from what happened to him. Roman happened to be quite good at vengeance.
His truck was where he parked it, and he scanned the area for Moe. When he’d dropped Moe off at the house, he’d told him to check on the good Agent Martinez and crew after he’d had a rest. Moe had bemoaned the fact, saying he should at least have snacks. Roman had been prepared for that, with a paper bag full of gummy candies. He would have expected Moe to have returned by now, but the demon was nowhere to be seen, and the scar on his wrist didn’t itch.
Not having the time to send out a search party for the little guy, Roman drove straight to the rental house to pick up his gear. If Aubrey’s brother had demons at the other property, they were probably at the estate house too. Strange he hadn’t felt anything the first time they were there.
Walking through the back door, he found Moe hanging upside down off the refrigerator door. “We’ve got a job,” he said, retrieving his toolbox and a change of clothes.
The demon flopped onto the floor, then hopped up to perch on the corner of the kitchen table. “Moe will come. Yes.”
With a nod he made sure everything he needed was in his toolbox, then headed to his truck. Moe followed.
“How was watching Agent Martinez this time?” he asked as he set the toolbox in the back.
“So sad, Ro. Yes, so sad,” the demon replied, hopping into the front seat.
Closing his door, Roman regarded him. “I gave you snacks.”
“Yes. One bite of snacks. So sad.”
“And the agents?”
“They were sad too. So sad to not have more snacks. Yes.”
Roman let out a breath, started the truck, and backed out of the yard. Usually Moe was better at reconnaissance than this. His snack obsession kept getting in the way of attaining good information. It was becoming more difficult to appease the ever-hungry demon. Was it because Moe was getting to a certain age? Or was it something else?
Pushing his uneasy thoughts aside, Roman focused on driving and the task ahead. His chat with the witch kept interfering with his concentration. Could she see the darkness of his soul through his energy? If she had, she wouldn’t have wanted Aubrey to have anything to do with him.
Aubrey. Remembering their kiss, the feel of her against him, the little sounds of encouragement she made in the back of her throat—she would be his undoing. It was selfish to think he could have her, even for a time.
Swallowing, he tried to push thoughts of her aside as they neared the turnoff to the estate house. What he needed to focus on was removing her brother as a threat. Everything else could wait.
The long plume of smoke rising in the distance could be seen miles away.
Up on the dashboard, Moe pressed his face to the windshield. “A bonfire. Yes. Pretty.”
Roman turned off the highway, then pulled over to the side of the road about a half mile away from the house. He didn’t need to get any closer. A fireball had replaced the home he’d stood in yesterday. The place crawled with firefighters and police. He scanned the people for the man he’d met, but didn’t see him, only firefighters as they tried to tame the flames and keep the garage and surrounding trees from catching fire.
He and Moe felt the heat from the blaze all the way to the truck.
Roman knew fires. He knew what one looked like when an accelerant was used, and this was a textbook case. The way every part of the house burned equally—someone had set it on purpose. Had Shawn done it himself, or had fire demons come to settle a debt?
Gripping the steering wheel, he watched as the firefighters scrambled. Aubrey’s brother wasn’t here or he was dead inside. Either way, his need for vengeance on Finn and Aubrey’s behalf would have to wait.
That didn’t mean he should sit idle. Reaching into his pocket for his wallet, he took out the card Agent Martinez had given him and tapped it on his knee. Maybe the agent had been truthful about wanting information on Jude, maybe he wanted something else.
But also, maybe some days it was good to have an FBI agent on speed dial.
Before he could make the decision to call, a black SUV slowed to a stop behind him. Nothing moved for a moment before Agent Martinez hopped out of the driver’s side. Had thinking about him conjured the man? Roman didn’t think he was that talented.
Tucking the agent’s card back in his wallet, Roman’s mind raced. He would have known if someone had been following him. His training made that hard to miss. Had the good agent put a tracking device on his truck? The thought shot an icy chill through him. If he’d followed up on Roman’s movements from yesterday, they would have found a very similar looking scene as the one in front of him.
“Out of sight,” he said to Moe as Martinez walked toward them. A soon as the demon blended in with the shadows of the floor, Roman hopped out. He didn’t want the agent to get too close.
Stopping by his rear taillight, Martinez’s eyes went to the spectacle of the burning house, then back to him.
Roman did his own perusal of the vehicle behind Martinez. Tinted windows obstructed his view, preventing him from seeing anyone inside. “I see you’ve resumed the habit of following me,” he said, returning his focus to the man in front of him. He searched for a family resemblance to Stella’s boyfriend, but besides the dark hair, there wasn’t any.
“Some habits are hard to break.”
They assessed each other, neither of them giving away their thoughts until Roman asked, “What are you doing here, Agent Martinez?”
Again, the agent’s eyes strayed to the burning house behind him. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Roman cocked his head toward the inferno. “You should probably check whose house that is and track them down.”
Martinez blinked at him but didn’t comment.
“You might also want to look into a man named Shawn Karle or Jonathan Livingston. Same guy.” The more people looking for him, the better. “An investigation firm called Highlander Security Company out of Langport might know more.”
“Karle? I know that name.”
“Aubrey’s brother.” When Martinez’s expression didn’t change, he added, “Estranged and homicidal.”
The agent’s eyes narrowed. “What have you gotten yourself into here, Milone?”
“I’m not the sharing type.”
“You might need to be if I take you in for a chat.”
“Is that a threat?” Roman asked, mildly amused. Then he shook his head, not wanting to get into a dick-measuring contes
t. “Look, I’ve given you information on two aliases and whatever they find in that house will be connected to him. I’m not the bad guy here. I’m trying to keep Aubrey safe.”
Martinez’s narrowed eyes assessed him without flinching. After a minute, his posture relaxed, and he smiled. “Sure. I’ll look into it. Anything else I should know?”
“I met your brother,” Roman said, taking a stab at his hunch.
“Which one?” His eyes darted to the action on the property, then back at him.
There were more than two Martinez brothers running around town? Great. “The annoying one.”
That made Martinez grin. “They’re both annoying.” He backed toward his SUV. “Keep out of trouble, Milone. I wouldn’t want to see you on the wrong side of an interrogation table.” Then he turned, opening his door to climb into the driver’s seat.
Roman stayed where he was until the SUV executed a U-turn and headed back to the highway. Only then did he jump back in his truck. His eyes remained fixed on the fire in front of him. Shifting to his visible form, Moe hopped up on the seat beside him.
“Did you see who else was in the car?” he asked without looking at Moe. The demon’s eyesight was better than his.
“It was the giant. Yes. The giant watched Ro.” Moe shrank down into the floor. “Giants eat demons, yes.”
23
The look on Stella’s boyfriend’s face when he arrived should have been humorous. Instead it made Aubrey want to cry. She took pride in her work, in the store, in what she’d built from her unexpected inheritance. And Finn had demolished it in under an hour.
Taking off his police hat, Lucas scratched his head. “It’s still vandalism. I can write up a report even if we know the one responsible will never be found.”
Vandalism fell under the scope of her policy. And maybe with a police report, the insurance company would honor the claim. If some of the costs to rebuild were covered, then maybe she could begin again.
With a little more optimism in her body, they took over a hundred pictures. Then both Zack and Lucas started with the big items, righting shelves and furniture and clearing a path to the front door. Seeing the two of them so focused made her jump into action. But before she started getting into the nitty-gritty of clean up, there was something she needed to do.
Taking a deep breath, she dug out her phone and found Abigail’s number. She hadn’t called or talked to the social worker in years. But with everything she’d learned about her brother, Aubrey realized the call was long overdue. Unfortunately, her former social worker didn’t answer, so Aubrey left a message instead.
With that out of the way, she focused on cleaning up the store, grateful for everyone’s help. Lucas stayed until he received another call on his radio.
Her sleeves rolled up, Aubrey grabbed another couple of empty boxes from the back, gave one to Stella, and tossed in the larger pieces of broken glass and pottery in the other. Everywhere they stepped, something crunched underfoot, a carpet of shards blanketing the hardwood.
Aubrey bit her lip for the millionth time, trying to stop her tears. Clink. Another broken piece of china into the box. Clink. Clink. She ached at the thought of throwing the bits of porcelain away, no matter how unsellable they were. Tea cups, tea pots, plates, vases, and bowls—none of the fragile items had survived Finn’s tantrum.
Even though her heart broke more with each piece, she tried to focus on something positive. “You know, I was thinking about changing the layout. Now seems like as good as time as any.”
Across the aisle, Stella gave her a sad smile.
Every so often, they’d find something salvageable, a piece of jewelry, a clock, a wooden box that was sturdy enough to survive the fall. Whenever one of them would find a piece, they set it on the front display case—the only glass in the place that hadn’t been broken. There wasn’t much. Her inventory was reduced to one small countertop.
Her breath caught again. Every piece she picked up, she knew where she’d bought it, knew which estate sale or salvage yard she’s traveled to. Now they were trash. All these pieces had deserved better.
Swallowing, she kept filling the boxes with the things needing to be tossed. At some point she was able to get into a rhythm, separate her thoughts and nostalgia for the sake of finishing the work.
“Where did you want me to put these?” Zack asked, picking up one of the boxes of broken bits.
Shoulders sagging, she let out a heavy sigh. “There are a couple dumpsters in the back.”
Tipping the box on its side to examine its contents, Zack hesitated. “I know this artist in town who works with broken things. Would you mind if I donate them to her?”
A lightness filled Aubrey’s chest. “I’d love that. Thank you.”
With a nod, he stacked two boxes, one on top of the other, and headed out the front door to his car.
When he returned to grab two more, Aubrey’s eyes lingered on the street. She kept waiting for Roman to return. He’d promised to come back, and she was going to hold him to it. But her mind raced. Her gut told her she might not want to know where he’d gone, while her brain told her she already did.
Even when he’d kissed her, he’d had an urgency inside of him contradicting the tenderness of his lips.
Why had he kissed her like that? Why had he smiled when she’d come out to find him? The way he’d held her face, the way he’d offered her his bare hand as they silently sat in the back seat of Zack’s car…a new sensation bloomed in her chest, warming her.
After about an hour of working with Stella and Zack, music playing off her computer because she’d needed more than the sounds of crunching, Roman returned. Letting out a relieved breath, she unlocked the front door to let him in. The three of them stared at him, waiting for him to say something. Instead, he took in what they’d done so far, and without speaking, grabbed a broom out of the closet to work on the smaller pieces of glass.
They worked in silence until Zack had to leave for his trip to see Bree at the ranch she was working at. After that, Stella went to clean up the plants in the window. Roman moved to the pictures he’d rehung only days ago, setting the artwork against the wall, moving the larger pieces of broken glass into a box.
“These need new glass, but are mostly okay,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her.
“I know a frame shop in town who’ll give me a deal.”
With a nod, he got out the ladder and rehung the paintings that didn’t need glass.
A call made Stella’s phone buzz. Cell to her ear, worry wrinkled her brow. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” When she hung up, she gave Aubrey a look filled with concern. “Nana’s having a bad moment.” She glanced around the store. “I need to go there for a while, but I don’t want to leave you with this.”
“I’ll be okay,” Aubrey said, a little surprised it was the truth. With the bulk of the work out of the way, she could see the skeleton shape of what her store once was. “Take your time with Nana and tell her ‘hi’ from me. I’ll wrap it up for the night and tackle the rest in the morning. I won’t be able to reopen right away anyway.” She didn’t have enough product to do so. Ignoring the sting that accompanied the thought, she forced a smile. The destroyed items would still need to be taken off her website.
And she was almost ready to go home. The day had been exhausting and the tension in her muscles wasn’t going anywhere. The best thing to do would be to take a hot bath and sleep for twenty hours.
“Are you sure?” Stella asked, an unconvinced look on her face.
“Positive,” Aubrey said with a nod. “I’ll see you at home.”
With a last glance at Roman, Stella gave her a hug. “You’ve been so strong,” she whispered in her ear before grabbing her purse off the front counter and heading out to her car.
That left her alone with Roman. Without a word, he resumed hanging the painting he held on the wall. She crossed the room to him, grateful her footsteps no longer crunched on broken glass.
Nerves bunched in her stomach as she stopped at the bottom of the ladder and looked up at him. She had so many questions and wasn’t sure if she wanted any of the answers. Swallowing against the dread in her throat, she asked, “Did you find him?”
Above her, he tensed, then climbed down the ladder to face her. “He wasn’t there, and I don’t think that was his house.”
She let out a slow breath. “If you’d found him, what would you have done?”
Turning, he walked away from her and headed to the storeroom. She followed. None of them had worked in here yet, and he squatted on his haunches to pick up tossed items. A music box, mismatched silverware, pieces of old watches—most of it were items she hadn’t been able to put out for sale, either needing to be repaired or appraised.
“Roman?” she asked when he continued to ignore her.
Only the sound of items dropping into the box answered her. She walked around the shelf to stand in front of him, trying to will him to look at her.
“I don’t understand you,” she said, her voice tight. “You smiled when you found out about this brother of mine. You kissed me when it didn’t make sense, and you held my hand like you cared. Now you’re as closed off as you ever were and I—” She stopped and swallowed. “I just want to understand.”
He stood, meeting her eyes. “It’s better not to understand me.”
“Bullshit,” she spit out, a buildup of emotion spilling out of her. “You’re closing me out when only hours ago, at one of the worst moments of my life, you opened up.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Help me understand the way you make me feel when you look at me. Help me understand why, ever since you stepped in my store, I can’t stop thinking about you. Help me understand why, when you leave my presence, I have this ache in my chest, this worry you won’t be coming back.”
She stepped close, only an inch between them, and stared up into his eyes. “Help me understand why, after everything, I just want you to touch me.”
Something shifted in his gaze, an expression so intense and dangerous her breath left her in a whoosh.