The talking finally ceased. The pain subsided, and the village of his charge’s fondest memory dissolved. The houses, the pretty yards, the leafy green trees, all vanished like a sweet dream at dawn.
Good for Old Tim. He'd finally let go of the illusion.
Bad for Jesse. The standard First Ring veneer of barren forest materialized on either side of the cobblestone road leading back to the Gate—less cover if you were being chased. He picked up speed. The soul needed to be freed, and he needed to have a serious talk with Prudence.
Holy shit!
Prudence. He'd lost her.
His heart ramped into fourth gear, skipping all the others, but in an instant, her pretty face entered his head, as plainly as if he ran at her side.
She was running, faster than a new Camaro with the pedal to the floor, honey brown hair fluttering behind her. Her bluish-gray eyes danced and through her puffing, she smiled.
She shouldn’t be. Two amorphous demons had become semi-visible. One barreling at her from the east, the other the west. She was doomed to become a demon sandwich.
His chest tightened with fear, and he started running a random path deeper into the woods.
Slalom-dodging trees, she pushed forward, her legs pounding the leaf-strewn ground faster than any other Runner he’d trained. One-handed, she gripped the trunk of a big oak stripped of its bark and boomeranged around the other side to stop and watch the results of her work.
Before realizing their prey had escaped, the shadowy forms collided, passing through each other—until they bounced back like tied rubber bands. With a snap, they wrapped around a thin, white birch tree, stuck and unable to separate.
How did she do that? And what the hell? Did he see Prudence with his Blessed Eye?
Thanks to the gift of his Blessed Eye, demons couldn’t hide from his sight. The evil minions shone clearly through every camouflage Hell designed to disguise their presence, whether up close or miles away. Shit, he could detect the shadow of a demon through a steel door, his gift was that strong.
But never, in all his years as a Runner, had he pinpointed a flesh-and-blood mortal across any distance.
He scanned the woods. She wasn't anywhere in sight.
Concentrating, he honed in on her coordinates, the connection as palpable and easy as it was impossible. A full mile below the Gathering Rock, near the poisonous border creek that huffed demons out of existence if they attempted to leave Hell for Purgatory, she skipped toward the Gate.
Toward him.
Farther away from their meeting place than she was, he set out on a tear.
No matter how hard he tried, the vision of her refused to dissipate. She stopped to catch her breath, her chest heaving as she gulped in air. Unexpectedly, she lifted the tail of her damp shirt and wiped the sweat off her forehead. He caught an eyeful of her flat stomach and then rounded breasts stretching the limits of a lace bra.
Jesse stumbled, then, stopping cold, leaned against the trunk of a tree. He shook his head hard, trying to dislodge the vision. The image of her smokin’ hot body infiltrated every thought. His fingers curled, imagining his hands molded over her sexy bra, and everything south of his belt buckle tingled.
“We’re clear,” she whispered through the little speaker in his ear.
He couldn’t answer her. The vision had sucked the breath from him.
“You there?” Prudence's light voice called. “Ugh! Is this wretched piece of shit broken again?”
Her plump lips pursed in exasperation, and her breasts heaved from exertion. Fired up with sexual craving, he almost didn’t find his voice.
“No,” he gritted out the word. An order to himself. Not with Prudence.
“Jesse? Are you there?”
It had been too long since he'd been with a woman. That was all. He wasn’t really attracted to the pretty pain-in-the-ass. He'd change his celibate status. Tomorrow. First thing. He slapped his ear, hitting the talk button and stinging the side of his face with the hit. The bite of pain helped.
“Not broken,” he huffed, pulling himself together. “Been waiting for you by the Gathering Rock,” he lied as he hurried to their predetermined meeting place, a boulder the size of a Peterbilt located near the portal. Instinct dictated, Don't tell Prudence you can see her with your special sight. “Meet me as soon as you can.”
Jesse didn't wait for her answer. He ripped the mechanism from his ear as if it would sever the tempting visions overlaying his sight.
She arrived at the rock moments after him. “How're you feeling? How's the soul?”
“Fine.” Jesse avoided her probing eyes. “You look…” He hesitated, careful not to express how enticing she appeared to him. “Wasted. Much trouble out there?”
A smug smile curved her lips. “For them. Demons are so predictable. And stupid. I swear I don't know how they got such a scary reputation.” She leaned against the rock on one hip. “Didn’t break a sweat either.”
“I'll note it in the report. Their stupidity, I mean.”
Didn’t break a sweat? If she thought pretending to be a superhero would win him over, it wasn’t going to work. Now more than ever.
His rider writhed inside, and Jesse groaned, buckling in two.
With the reflexes of a machine, she snatched the red bandana he'd looped around his cracked leather belt. “You don't look so good. You’re really flushed.”
She gripped his shoulder with one hand and dabbed the perspiration along his hairline.
One careless glance down and he saw nothing but cleavage peeking out of her V-necked shirt. His sexual need pulsated. Six months without a woman wiggling beneath him suddenly seemed like an eternity. His libido begged to recoup all that wasted time.
Right. Now.
It was all he could do not to pin her against the boulder, not to crush her tender mouth to his as his hands ripped her flimsy shirt to rags.
No. Not with Jack's daughter.
He grabbed her by the wrist with more force than he’d intended.
Her eyes widened as if she read his mind.
“Aw, I'm all right,” he said softly, releasing her and stepping back. “Nothing worse than the soul of a repentant attorney. If they couldn't keep their yaps shut before finding the right path”—he seized the bandana, and she let it slide through her fingers— “they’re more verbose after.” He swiped at the back of his neck. “Even talkier than you.”
“Ha. Ha.” She pinched her lips together and added an eye roll, but a little bit of a grin graced her mouth.
Good. He’d covered.
“Let's get out of here.” He tucked the handkerchief in the back pocket of his jeans.
They walked in companionable silence to the main path, but when they reached level cobblestone, she stopped.
“Do you think you can run?” she said, glancing over one shoulder and then the other.
Exhausted by Timothy, he wanted to say no. “I will if I have to. What’s up?”
“I’m sure I lost all of the demons, but I can't shake the feeling we're being watched.” She meandered through a 360-degree turn with her eyes in constant motion. “You see anything?”
Jesse shook his head. “What do you sense?”
“Don’t know. Not evil, but not clean, either.”
A shadow sliced the air between them, darting circles around Prudence.
“What’s that?”
“An invitation to beat feet.” Concerned he’d not been able to see the intruder, Jesse wanted to cross the border fast. He snatched at Prudence’s hand—missed—and the anomaly sliced right through her.
It vanished like a spent cloud, but her body quaked in the aftermath.
Alarmed, he scooped her into his arms before she hit the ground in a free-fall faint. “I gotcha, Princess.” He clutched her hard against his body.
A moment later, her body stiffened with consciousness.
“What the heck was that?” Her husky voice sounded steady, a good sign.
“An unrepentan
t soul, I think. Probably trying to catch a free ride until he realized he couldn’t.”
She wrapped an arm around his neck and leveled sharp, slate-blue eyes at him. Their faces were close enough to share breath. “I meant the Sir Galahad treatment.”
“You looked like you were going to faint.”
“Faint? I've never fainted in my life. Shoot, I walk like a ghost through a bronze sculpture right into the lap of Hell. I outrun demons better than you, and soon…” She hesitated and regarded him with a cautious glare. “Soon I'll carry souls into the light of Heaven. You can't treat me like I’m a priss.”
Unflustered and smart-mouthing him. He thought she might be grateful.
Jesse was tempted to drop her on the spot but thought better of it and placed her on her feet.
“It won't happen again.” A wicked pain twisted in his chest. He doubled over.
“Why can’t Tim be grateful and keep his mouth shut?” she said.
He glanced up and smirked. “Opinionated types can’t control their pie-hole.”
Prudence frowned and narrowed her gaze. “Some opinionated types also save asses.” She grabbed one of his hands, her small grip surprisingly strong. “Get the lead out, Thorne.”
Linked, they loped toward the tall bronze doors. Within yards of escape, the shadow whirred like a cyclone across their path. It danced, guarding their only exit.
Jesse pulled them up short as she tried to tug him forward. “We can't pass as long it blocks the Gate.”
“We have to try. You're burning and—”
The shadow materialized into the sketchy outline of a man, freezing her tongue.
“Greetings, Jesse.” A brogue more Irish than whiskey rolled through the air, and the apparition completed manifestation. Naked as a Rodin statue, Niall the Shade leaned against the deep doorjamb of the Gate. “What brings you back? And with such a pretty lass.”
“You know him?” Her gaze cut to Jesse and he felt the hint of an accusation.
“Unfortunately.”
Timothy muttered an oath and Jesse clenched his teeth against the burn. He’d be forced to release the spirit soon—with or without the light of Heaven.
“You got a knack for bad timing, Niall. What do you want this time?”
“Same as always. Friendship.”
“Bullshit. With you friendship is business.”
The shade nodded. “At the root, all relationships are business.” He took a step toward Prudence. “Ask any of your partners.”
She wrenched her hand free of Jesse's grip and shielded her eyes. “Back off, slim. Better yet, go away.”
“Your words cut me to the quick, lass.” Niall placed a hand over his heart. “Especially now, that we read each other so well.”
“For Heaven’s sake, put on some clothes. You’re naked.”
“Come now, Miss Luckett.” He smirked. “You’re not as puritanical as you pretend.”
Her shoulders stiffened. The reaction was not lost on Jesse.
“Pretending is dangerous business, below or topside.” The shade pointed a finger at the Gate and then turned it on Prudence to waggle it at her. “Better take care of your…problem, or someday you could wind up trapped in the Passion Pit. Human or not.”
The Passion Pit?
Located in the third ring, no Hell Runner in the last hundred years had seen The Pit firsthand, let alone saved a soul from its torture. But they all knew the rumors. A lavish mansion overrun with naked bodies, writhing on the brink of pleasure, never reaching ecstasy.
Ouch. Talk about terminal blue balls.
Way out of their jurisdiction, why’d Niall drop the warning? Especially to Princess?
She flushed an intriguing shade of pink. “You’re completely—”
“Honest. And concerned for your well-being.” His worldly eyes softened. “It’s why I violated you.”
“Doesn’t mean I want to see your junk. Conjure some clothes.” Her words intoned as much heat as her face, but Jesse detected a trace of fear in her voice. Not the kind of fear induced by external forces, but the inner fear that held hands with the truth.
Could the shade have gleaned secret information in the seconds he passed through Prudence? Most likely his reason for doing it, and Jesse wondered what else he’d learned. He’d never pegged his chatty student as secretive until today. His sexy little one-and-done partner got more interesting by the moment.
“The only decent thing about being dead is not being tied to societal convention,” the shade whined.
“Everyone in the first ring is dressed,” Prudence pointed out. “Do it.”
Niall sighed. “Fine. But only in what you imagine for me.” He spread his arms wide. “Think of what makes you most comfortable.”
Suddenly, flash burn coated Jesse’s lungs. He hit his knees.
“Jesse!” Prudence dropped beside him and encircled his shoulders with an arm. “This is ridiculous. Release Tim. Tell him to stay close, and when the shade takes off, I’ll carry him through. It will be our secret.”
“No. His soul will be sucked right back into his old mirage, if he doesn’t set the forest on fire first.” He pushed upright. “I’m not giving up.”
“You are so stubborn. Okay. The shade gets what he wants.”
Clothes materialized on the cunning spirit—faded T-shirt, low-riding jeans, cowboy boots and a leather jacket.
“You gave him my jacket?” he said, surprised at Prudence’s definition of comfort. The pain in his chest reduced to a dull throb.
“Don’t cop an attitude. I couldn’t think of anything else.”
Niall paced stiffly as if the ensemble was real. He ran his hands down the front of the coat. “If these are your clothes, Hell Runner, then I am honored. Uncomfortable and restrained, but honored, nonetheless.”
“Save the grease job. What will it take to move your sorry ass?”
“Uh-huh. Don’t be testy. You’re going to need my help. Hell is changing, as you already know.” He glanced at Prudence. “I like your spunky new partner, despite her reticence toward nudity. And I don’t want to see either of you in danger.” The shade squared his shoulders. “An inside man can be beneficial.”
“Never got that impression before.”
“Because you never took advantage of my services, which was foolish.” His eyes hardened. “I reiterate—you’re going to need me.”
Jesse snorted. He wasn't without sympathy for Niall. As a former operative for the Irish Republican Army, his wife had been shot at their home by a sniper aiming for him. Devastated by her death, Niall committed suicide in hopes of joining her in Heaven. At least that’s what he claimed time and again. But he’d chosen a coward’s way out, and Jesse had difficulty drumming up respect for his choice. He also believed, once a sneak always a sneak, and the shade had as good as stolen Swift with his stories about Heaven’s Secret Door.
“And you need us,” Prudence said.
“I won’t deny it.” Niall held his chin high. “I want to earn passage into Heaven and aiding you will benefit us both.”
“Redemption isn’t our decision,” she said. “We find and carry.”
“But good deeds are noticed by those that chose—”
“And here below,” she added. “You’d be putting yourself in a lot of danger. And we can’t guarantee—”
He shook his head. “I don’t need a guarantee. I don’t want a pass. I made mistakes. And am willing to pay for them. But I want to work my way out of this hole. I want to get into Heaven. Back to my Siobhan.” He swallowed hard. “Please. Let me work.”
Prudence touched Jesse's arm and whispered, “He’s rough and a tad dramatic, but I can read him easily since he passed through me.” She seared him with a pleading stare. “I believe him.”
“Don't.”
“I must,” she whispered hoarsely. “He’s sincere. I feel it all the way to my toes and, might I point out, you specifically instructed me to distrust the surface, to trust what I feel at my core
.” She turned her gaze back to Niall. “Will you keep your pants on?”
“He’s not sanctioned. We can’t use him,” Jesse lied, ignoring the pang of guilt in his gut.
“I like my new pants.”
“Good. You’ll have to prove yourself,” she said, boosting Jesse under the arm. “I’m not a pushover.”
“No strong heart ever is.” A relieved smile creased the shade’s face, and he moved aside, leaving them a wide berth. “Your partner looks a little green. Best you get home.”
Jesse's stomach clenched until his burning chest rested on it. She'd given the shade what he wanted. Anything that easy usually wasn't.
“How do we contact you?” she said.
“No need. I’ll be watching. And remember what I told you.” He overemphasized his accent to the point of singsong, and light danced in his ghostly eyes. “Avoid the Passion Pit. And if you can’t”—his eyes flicked to Jesse for a split second—“indulge your desires first.”
With a smoky flourish, the spirit disappeared.
Prudence heaved a sigh and then looked up into Jesse’s face. Blooms of pink still glowed on the apples of her cheeks. “You are a little green.” She tightened the arm around his ribcage. “Lean on me.”
“No, Princess.” As much as he liked her close, he stepped free of her support. “I don’t need you anymore.”
“Suit yourself.” She frowned and walked backward toward the Gate. “What did Niall do that makes you dislike him? He seriously violated my personal space, laid a full frontal on me, and I forgave him.”
“Your problem not mine.”
“Have you forgotten, we’re in the redemption business?”
He couldn’t tell her the truth about Swift and the shade. “Like you said, we find and carry. Redemption isn’t my department.”
“Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed as if trying to pierce his shell.
“Look. It’s a feeling. I may not be an Empath, but I still have them.”
“Good to know.” That smug yet sweet grin curved her lips. “See you on the other side. Partner.” She turned and jogged through the Gate, the sway of her ass teasing him as she disappeared.
Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1) Page 6