Charmed (Death Escorts) (22 page)
“Text -
to communicate by text message.”
Charming
I woke as the sun was rising, lying there in my king-sized bed, watching the sky turn a peachy-pink as day broke over the water. I bought this house for the view, for the location. I didn’t really expect to like it here as much as I did, but the house was comfortable and there was something calming and steady about the ocean.
Out of all my houses throughout the world, this one probably felt most like home, aside from the first one I ever purchased. That home was the biggest, the most private, and was the only place I’ve ever been where I could fully be myself. It’s where the old me and the current me could blend together to create a total person. When I went there, I didn’t have to be all about the job. I didn’t have to think about the way I looked, the way I acted, or the impression I was giving someone else. I hadn’t been there in a long time and thinking about it now made me realize how much I missed it.
I made a sound and rolled away from the view. Missing a place was stupid. I didn’t have time to miss anything because I had a job to do and thanks to G.R., I was losing a couple days because I was here and not there.
It didn’t matter though. We could leave tonight and I would be back to work tomorrow. It was time I stepped it up a bit. The Target was familiar with me now; she seemed to feel safe in my presence and no longer suspicious. It was time to come up with a plan to get to her money. When a Target was a lonely person, when they didn’t have a large family or a network of people around them, it usually wasn’t very hard, but this time was different.
I needed an angle. Maybe I could somehow get into her bank account through the fundraiser I was supposed to be helping her with. A dull ache began behind my eyes and I knew it was going to be a long day.
I would rather eat a bucket of nails and wash them down with a glass of bleach than go back to Alaska tomorrow and spend time with the Target.
Flinging the down-filled covers off me, I got out of bed and snatched my cell off the nightstand. I should send her a text, something just to keep myself in her thoughts, to endear her to me a little more. Maybe a picture of the empty morning beach.
Everything in my body rebelled at the idea of sharing any part of this place with her. If I could smack some sense into myself I probably would have because my body and my mind needed to get with the program. I’d never had a problem faking my feelings for any Target before. Hell, this Target should be even easier because I didn’t have to pretend to have romantic feelings for her because she thought I was gay.
Maybe the pressure G.R. was putting on was getting to me. The impossible assignment, the extra job, my sister…
I was starting to crack under the pressure. I mean, I was
feeling
things for the love of God.
I walked to the wall of windows to snap the picture. Like it or not, I was going to do this job. When this was done and the Reaper understood that I wasn’t someone he could yank around, then I would go home, take a break, and get back to normal.
Before I could lift the phone, something caught my eye. A person walking at the edge of the water. It was Frankie. She was already down there, slowly walking along the shore as the waves rushed in soaking her feet.
The ocean wind was pulling at the hem of the cotton dress she wore, pulling it back and molding the fabric to the curves of her body. A body that my hands had been all over last night.
My muscles tightened at the memory of how she felt beneath me. Sinful. It was the only word that could capture how it felt to have her in my arms. That woman was a ball of passion, a pot of bubbling water about to boil over. Her kind of passion wasn’t something a person found every day.
I knew she felt something for me. I saw it in her eyes. I felt it crackle between us. But I also saw her disgust for me, the hatred of who I was and what I did. As I watched her bend down to pick up a few seashells in the sand, I wondered which side was bigger, the hate or the desire.
A text came through my phone and it beeped in my hand. Irritation cracked through me at the disruption. It was the irritation that gave me clarity. All these feelings I’d been having, the lack of interest in my job…
the guilt
. I wasn’t cracking under the pressure from G.R.
It was her.
She was the reason I was changing. She was the reason I was losing focus on my goals.
Feeling disgusted with myself, I looked down at the text.
Don’t think he’s noticed yet. Everything go as planned?
It was from Storm. He was keeping an eye on G.R. so we would know when he noticed his secret collection was gone. It hadn’t been easy getting those bodies and the soul out of there the other night, but we did it. Instead of keeping everything together in one place, we split up the bodies, Storm hiding two of them and me taking the girl and the jar with the soul in it.
I glanced inside my closet, making sure she was still there, and then looked under the bathroom sink at the jar.
All went as planned. Will be home tomorrow,
I typed back.
Target is getting on a plane,
he replied.
When?
First thing in the morning.
It wasn’t morning yet in Alaska.
Thanks for the heads up.
Ugh. Where was she going? How long was she going to be gone? I didn’t remember her mentioning a trip to me, yet I hadn’t really talked to her since that day in the café when I rushed out of there. Ever since then I’d been too busy trying to find something to use against G.R.
And too busy thinking about Frankie,
the voice in my head whispered.
Damn. I was getting sloppy. Exactly what G.R. wanted. Shit, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew she was going out of town and he sent me here just so I would miss that much more time with her.
With a growl, I punched a button on my phone and dialed her. She answered on the first ring.
“Charming, this is a surprise,” she said. Her voice was friendly yet slightly reserved. My weird behavior at lunch the other day clearly left an impression on her. And now here I was calling her at a very late hour (for her).
“Rosalyn,” I began, interjecting warmth that I wasn’t feeling into my tone. “It has been a few days, sorry about that. I had an unexpected business meeting and had to fly to Los Angeles.”
“You don’t have to explain, Charming,” she replied. “It isn’t as if your every move is my business.”
I shut my eyes in frustration. See, this was the bad part about being “gay” because if we had some sort of romantic connection, she would feel entitled to knowing every move I made and I could likely romance her into forgiving the way I acted.
Still, the way I was feeling lately being her friend was hard enough, let alone trying to act like her boyfriend. My eyes strayed down onto the beach to look for Frankie. She was still picking up shells, using her dress as a bucket to hold them.
I laughed. “Well, of course not. But I figured since we were friends and also working on the fundraiser together, I should keep you informed.”
“About the fundraiser,” she began, and a ball of ice formed in my gut. If she told me she didn’t need my help anymore I was going to freaking kill her just to be done with her and forget about the damn money. “We will have to postpone our planning for a few days. I’m actually at the airport now. I must go out of town.”
The air in my lungs expelled. “That’s no problem at all,” I replied. “I can work on a few things on my end and then when you get back we can regroup.”
I wanted to ask her where she was going. I wanted to ask her why, but I wasn’t about to. Appearing too interested right now could be the nail in my coffin. She was already sounding a little distant and cool, and giving her any other reason to doubt my motives for hanging around her would be stupid on my part.
“Well, yes, that would be great,” she replied, her tone losing some of its coolness.
“Just let me know when you arrive back in Alaska and have a safe flight.”
“Thank you,” she said. I thought she would hang up then and after a second I pulled the phone away from my ear, but when she began to speak again, I yanked it back up.
“Charming, is there another reason you called so early?”
“Not at all. I was just sitting here watching the sun rise and I realized the last time I saw you was kind of rushed. I figured I would take a chance and see if you were still up.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure the view there is much nicer than the one here.”
“I don’t want to make you jealous,” I teased.
She laughed. “Yes, I would think so. Okay, well, as long as everything is okay with you…” Her words died off.
“Absolutely. The other day I’d gotten up to go talk with a business acquaintance and then I received a call that there was a fire at one of the properties I own. Naturally, I rushed over, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the man on the phone made it seem.”
After that, I was glad most of her reserve had melted away and I hoped I managed to stay in her good graces. When we finally hung up the phone, the ache in my head had turned into a pounding.
Looks like the job was delayed for… well, for I didn’t know how long. I was going to have to have Storm find out where she was going and when she was returning.
I glanced at the clock. Not even eight a.m. and I was exhausted.
Frankie appeared on the deck below, dumping a huge pile of shells onto the floor by her feet. Sand scattered everywhere. Then she picked up the hose and started spraying them off creating puddles and globs of wet sand. I shook my head. This place had never seen such a mess. Not only was there sand and shells everywhere, but her towels were draped over the chairs, and her flip-flops lay forgotten near the stairs.
It looked like a home.
Like a place where people could be happy.
I thought again about the place I was missing earlier.
Without a second thought, I tore downstairs and out onto the deck, startling Frankie, who was still using the hose. She jumped, spun around, bringing the hose with her, and splattered me right across the chest.
I flinched and growled her name.
She burst out laughing. “That’s what you get for scaring me.”
I snatched her towel off the chair and began drying myself. “I came down here to tell you to pack up.”