“How’s the patient this morning?” she asked from across the parking lot while she fished a pair of sunglasses from her bulky black purse.
“Cranky as usual, but otherwise doing much better,” Adam replied with a flirtatious grin, moving closer but keeping far enough away so Buford couldn’t slobber all over her. “I think he’ll live.”
“Of course I’ll live,” David murmured, oddly annoyed. He didn’t know what bugged him more, being called cranky, or Adam’s shameless flirting.
Sarah glanced up to his window, smiled, and waved. He waved back and sent her a mental suggestion: Running late. Time to go to work.
Nothing. She turned her attention back to Adam and continued her conversation, her hands gesturing wildly as she spoke, oblivious to David’s attempts to manipulate her mind.
Frustrated, David sent the same suggestion to Adam.
“Well, I better get going,” Adam said almost immediately. “I’m running late for work. I better go finish Buford’s walk.”
David watched in stunned silence as the pair said their good-byes. What the hell? Why couldn’t he sway her thoughts? While some people were more prone to suggestion than others, he’d never been incapable of inserting a thought into someone’s mind. Until now.
Maybe his head was still a little fried from the night before. Yeah, that had to be the reason, he thought, grasping for any plausible explanation. He’d try it again the next time he saw her, once he’d gotten a little more rest and his brain was firing on all cylinders.
While Sarah slid behind the wheel of a sporty red Mazda, Adam sauntered toward the rear of the complex at a leisurely pace, giving David a few minutes of peace and quiet.
Or so he thought.
“Had a bit of a rough evening, did you?” a dour voice said from behind.
David took another sip from his mug before bothering to acknowledge his boss’s presence. After all, the bastard was rude enough to pop in unannounced, why should he roll out the welcome mat?
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he finally replied when he turned to face Samuel. He forced his expression to remain neutral, determined to show no trace of irritation. “What do you want? We’re not scheduled to meet for another thirty-six hours.”
He’d been David’s boss for over half a century. The salt in his wounds. The sand in his shorts. The pain in his ass. And much to David’s chagrin, Samuel enjoyed every single minute of it.
As usual, Samuel looked impeccable in a charcoal gray three-piece suit, complete with diamond cufflinks, a burgundy tie, and a red rose pinned to the lapel. There wasn’t a hair out of place and when he smiled, his long, narrow face appeared crocodilian.
“Always so distrustful.” Samuel shook his head in mock disapproval. “Can’t I make a social call?”
“Nope.” David finished his coffee and moved back to the kitchen for a refill. He needed an extra dose of caffeine if he had to deal with Samuel this early in the morning. “Not your style.”
“Point taken.”
“So I’ll ask you again. What do you want?”
Samuel reached into his jacket and pulled out a business-size envelope. “I brought the roster for next week.”
“Wonderful.” David met Samuel halfway across the room and accepted the packet. He passed it from hand to hand, noting the weight and thickness. Inside held the fates of those unfortunate souls whose meters were about to expire. Mortal lives, boiled down to a name, place, and time of departure. Later, after Samuel cleared out and he had some quiet time, he’d sit at his desk and deal out death, sorting the roster by date, time, and location and then assigning each soul to a reaper.
For almost two decades, David had managed the Central Florida territory, covering nine counties that stretched from Orlando metro to the east coast. Over the years he’d watched orange groves make way for theme parks, and the population boom that inevitably followed. His team had grown from three to seven, while Samuel’s reach extended much further. How far, he wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t about to ask.
In the age of fax, phone, and Internet, Samuel still insisted on personally delivering the roster each week, handwritten in neatly scripted block lettering. “You know, you could just e-mail these,” David said. “Save you the trip.” Not to mention save him the aggravation.
Samuel shook his head. “I prefer to deliver them myself. I guess I’m old-fashioned that way.”
“No, you’re primeval.”
Samuel ignored the comment. “I also wanted to check the progress of our newest associate.” He pulled a crisp, white handkerchief from his pocket and brushed it over one of the kitchen chairs before taking a seat. “How is the young lad progressing? Will he be ready in the required time frame?”
“The kid’s coming along just fine.” Samuel had imposed a two-month deadline for Adam’s training. Which was a little short—most reapers were given around six months to acclimate to the job. Samuel offered no reason for the rush and David knew not to press for details.
“Where is he?”
Like he didn’t already know. “Out walking the dog.” Samuel raised a brow and David added, “Long story. He’s getting rid of it soon.”
A thin smile gave Samuel a predatory air, which meant only one thing: he wanted something. “How convenient. That gives us time to chat.”
“Oh goody. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
The smile evaporated. “I don’t understand why you feel compelled to act like an insolent chit,” Samuel said, his British accent growing more pronounced with his annoyance. “I’m only here to help you.”
“Yeah, right.” David let out a derisive huff. He’d heard that line more times than he cared to count. Samuel ruled over his charges with an iron fist and absolute power, and took obvious pride in his work. “You get off watching us all suffer.”
Samuel scowled. “Believe what you want. But there is an important matter we must discuss.”
“Then talk.” David tossed the packet on the bar separating the kitchen from the living room. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” Stalking back to the kitchen, he refilled his cup and then held the pot up. He might loathe Samuel, but he still had some semblance of manners. “Want some?”
“Yes, please.” He stood and took the cup David offered. “I had the most interesting discussion with Fate the other day,” Samuel began. His tone sounded conversational but his eyes were sharp and attentive, taking note of David’s every move.
The mention of Fate grabbed David’s attention by the short and curlies. Fate ruled over Death, and it was Fate who ultimately decided when a reaper’s terms of service were satisfied. “And?”
“Have your attention now, do I?” A smirk curled the corners of Samuel’s mouth. Just to be a dick and drag things out, he paused to add sugar to his coffee. “Didn’t think you placed much value in anything I had to say.”
David clenched his jaw and counted to ten. He didn’t like playing games, and he really hated it when Samuel asserted his superiority. “Quit jerking my chain and tell me what Fate said.”
“Touchy.” Samuel made a tsk, tsk sound and shook his head. “And impatient. Always been a weakness of yours, hasn’t it?” Before David could respond, he said, “Well, since we haven’t much time before your protégé returns, I’ll make this brief. Fate’s had her eye on you as of late. It seems you’re approaching a crossroads. She said the fork in the road will expose the true nature of your character, but the light will chart the course for the remainder of your journey.”
Remainder of his journey? Hope bloomed in David’s guarded psyche. Did Samuel mean what he thought he meant? Could it all be over soon? It sounded too good to be true. “You mean I’m getting out of here soon?”
“That’s not what I said,” Samuel said, sounding a little annoyed. He sipped his coffee and then stirred in another teaspoon of sugar. “I’m only relaying Fate’s exact words. Keep them in mind when choosing your path, boy.”
What kind of bullshit was Samuel
shoveling this time around? The son of a bitch was incapable of giving a straight answer. David rolled the words around in his head, searching for the hidden message. “What do you mean, a crossroads?” he asked, trying to decipher words with a meaning as clear as fog. “I thought Fate pulled all the strings.”
“Fate doesn’t control everything. There is the element of free will.”
David didn’t bother masking his cynicism. “Free will my ass. Fate plays us like puppets.”
“Not quite. Fate merely controls the essentials; she knows when you’ll be born, and she knows when you’ll die.”
“She knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake,” David said, his words thick with sarcasm.
The attitude wasn’t lost on Samuel. He shot David a withering glare. “Keep it up and I’ll add another fifty years to your sentence.”
“Well gee, it’s been so much fun, why not make it a hundred?”
The chuckle died in David’s throat when an invisible force wrapped around his neck, closing around his windpipe and cutting off his air.
“Not so funny now, is it, boy?” Samuel rounded the bar and leaned in close, his face an inch from David’s. “I’m only trying to help you.”
The grip on David’s throat tightened and his vision blurred around the edges. Mouth agape, he dropped to his knees, his palms braced against the tiles to keep from falling flat on his face. Another five or ten seconds and he’d lose consciousness. “Really?” he said on the tail end of a strangled gasp. “You got a … strange way … of showing it.”
“Just remember what I told you.” Samuel’s voice deepened to a low growl. “Don’t screw it up.”
The pressure on his throat released, and David found himself facedown on the kitchen floor, alone, gulping air like a fish out of water. He stayed there until his breathing returned to normal, then scraped himself off the floor and propped himself against the counter.
Meanwhile, Fate’s message played in his brain on a continuous feedback loop, his mind grasping for the true meaning. “The fork in the road will expose the true nature of your character, but the light will chart the course for the remainder of your journey.”
In spite of David’s pessimism, the seed of hope took root. Redemption. Deliverance. Salvation. He’d been harvesting souls for so long, he’d begun to doubt it would ever happen.
And what about Adam? Was he training his own replacement? The thought hadn’t occurred to him before, but it would certainly explain why Samuel had such a hard-on about getting the kid trained so damn fast. If that were the case, he’d have to make sure Adam was ready to roll within the two-month time frame. It would pose a challenge—some reapers took years to fully develop their talents—but it was certainly within the realm of possibility.
He’d just have to push the kid a little harder.
chapter 5
Sarah waved her key card over the security scanner, eager to kick the new day into gear. The little green light blinked twice, followed by the distinctive click of the lock disengaging. The door slid open and she entered Cava Tech’s main lab facility, enjoying the solitude associated with being the first person in. After driving past the gauntlet of protesters at the main gate, the peace and quiet felt like a slice of nirvana.
Under the harsh glow of fluorescent lights, she logged onto the computer, sprayed the lab prep table with antiseptic, and retrieved fresh tissue samples from the incubator. Angelo wouldn’t be back from his meetings until later in the day, and she wanted to be way ahead of schedule when he returned.
She worked in silence for the first hour, determined to complete the preliminary prep work necessary to begin the new round of tests. She was still angry with herself over the prior test’s failure. For the life of her, she couldn’t pin down the source of the contamination. And while the government entity sponsoring the trials had voiced understanding over the setback, Sarah knew a second mishap would not be met with the same level of tolerance. If it happened again, they might cut their funding. Or worse, demand a new research team.
Through the glass partition dividing labs, she saw the lights in the adjacent room flicker to life. Then the door swung open and Jackie entered the lab, holding a coffee cup the size of a Big Gulp. Sarah took a moment to give a friendly wave. Jackie waved back, and a few moments later she sauntered over to Sarah’s side of the glass.
“You can’t have that in here,” Sarah said, motioning to the cup in Jackie’s left hand. “We’ve had enough problems with contaminants.”
Jackie gave Sarah a pained look. “Oh come on, you’ve got to be kidding. It’s coffee, not Ebola.”
“Sorry, but I can’t take any chances. Pitch it.”
Jackie took one last chug before dumping the cup in the receptacle by the door. “There. Happy?”
“Very. Thank you.”
Jackie leaned a hip against the prep table. “So how’s your neighbor doing?”
“As far as I know, better,” Sarah replied as she picked up another sterilized slide. With a practiced precision, she secured the cell culture to the slide and coated it with a thick, yellow chemical solution.
“I still can’t believe he’s gay.” Jackie made an unladylike sound in the back of her throat. “That’s a crime against single women.”
“Believe it,” Sarah replied, never taking her eyes off her work. She had mixed feelings about her neighbor’s orientation. Mostly, she was disappointed, like when you opened a present on Christmas morning and found a pair of socks instead of the necklace you’d been wishing for. But part of her was relieved. At this stage in her career she had neither the time nor the inclination to entangle herself in a romantic relationship. Maybe she’d be ready in another year or so, once the clinical trials were well under way. Until then, she’d have to settle for enjoying the scenery next door.
In a rare show of skepticism, Jackie asked, “What makes you so sure he’s pitching for the other team?”
“Well, let’s see. He’s living with another guy in a one-bedroom apartment. There’s only one bed. And last time I saw them together, they were looking pretty cozy.”
Jackie’s nose crinkled. “Cozy how? Were they kissing?”
“No.”
“Holding hands?”
Sarah shook her head.
“Giving each other the big doe eyes?” Jackie batted her eyes for dramatic effect.
That one made Sarah laugh. “No, of course not.”
“Then what makes you so sure they’re playing hide the salami?”
“I don’t know,” Sarah said with a shrug. She reached for her journal, hoping Jackie wouldn’t notice the blush heating her cheeks. “I got this … feeling. Like there was something going on between them.”
“Maybe they’re good buddies.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Maybe you should ask them, just to make sure,” Jackie suggested.
“I’m sure that would go over really well.” Sarah jotted down the tag number for the slide in her journal. She finished the process by carefully placing the specimen in the slide box to minimize the risk of contamination.
“Why wouldn’t it? If they’re a couple like you think, they shouldn’t have a problem with you asking.”
“And if they’re not?” She could only imagine their reaction.
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and one of them will want to prove his masculinity.” Jackie flashed a wicked grin. “Maybe both.”
“Good lord.” Sarah shook her head and forced back a laugh. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage her. “It’s not even nine in the morning. Could you please wait until at least noon before letting your brain veer into the gutter?”
“Can’t help it,” Jackie said with a shrug. “It’s part of my charm.”
“Yeah, well get your charms over here. I need to get the specimens from the variable groups onto labeled slides before Angelo gets back from his meeting with Research and Development. Which will be in …” She paused to check the clock on the far wal
l. “… About three hours.”
Jackie crossed over to the sinks and scrubbed her hands. “Your wish is my command.”
Hours later, Sarah was busy setting up the final batch of slides when she felt a hand press against the small of her back and a silky Italian accent murmured, “You never called,” into her ear.
“Jesus!” Sarah jerked back, coming dangerously close to knocking the tray of slides to the floor. She spun around to find Angelo towering over her. Even in a lab coat and scrubs, he somehow managed to look debonair. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she snapped, unable to control the sudden flash of temper. “I almost ruined an hour’s worth of work.”
“My apologies.” His smooth voice held a cool edge, hinting at an underlying agitation. Not too surprising, since Angelo wasn’t accustomed to being denied. “Why didn’t you return my call last night?”
“Oh. Sorry about that.” Sarah set the tray back on the table, all the while trying to think up a reason for not calling. She needed something creative, since she’d used all the regular excuses at least twice already. In the end, she settled for the truth. “I had to help a neighbor.”
Angelo arched a brow, his expression doubtful. “What kind of help?”
“Does it matter?” Boss or not, she was tired of his relentless encroachment on her personal life. She squared her shoulders and folded her arms across her chest. “I was otherwise occupied. By the time I was available, it was too late to call you back.”
“Oh. I see.” He stared at her for a few moments before making a dismissive wave of his hand. “Very well, I suppose it is an acceptable excuse.”
Like she needed one. She took a step to the side, putting some distance between them. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Angelo?”
His dark gaze sharpened as his mouth curved into something too primal to count as a smile. “Of course. I wanted to measure your progress on the retrial. After the unfortunate problems we encountered during the last runs, I wanted to ensure nothing was left to chance.” He surveyed the prep table with a critical eye. “How disappointing. I assumed you would have finished the first round by now.”
Grave Intentions Page 6
