The Steve Williams Series Boxed Set

by J. E. Taylor

  A subtle change occurred in Chris’s expression. His eyes turned a shade darker, sending a hard cold stare in Steve’s direction. The muscles in his jaw worked, pulling the flushed skin taut over his cheekbones and thinning his lips to a white streak that matched his spreading wings. “You do not give Me ultimatums!” The wings beat, raising Chris off the ground.

  Steve laughed, watching Chris rise, his own anger edging to the surface. He yanked mentally and the laugh caught in his throat as the angel plummeted to the ground, hard.

  On his hands and knees, Chris looked up at Steve, his blue eyes wide and full of surprise.

  Steve leaned over, balancing his hands on his knees. “Apparently I do. I want to know why? Now.”

  “Why what?” Chris asked, getting up and brushing himself off.

  “Why me? Why the money, the powers? Why’d you make the trade?” The anger blew past the surface. “Why didn’t you just let me die on that cross?” He was yelling now. “Everyone died because of me. Why did you save me?”

  Chris stepped back, letting Steve fill with the anger and grief. There was no more denying the ability to feel, it was hitting Steve like a bulldozer.

  “Why?” The question belted out, echoing off the lake.

  “Self-preservation,” Chris answered.

  Steve’s jaw went slack, his anger sputtering to a low simmer.

  “Saving you got me into heaven.”

  “Why?” Steve whispered. “What makes me so special?”

  Chris cocked his head to the side. “You just are.” He shoved his hands in his pocket and studied the moss at their feet before returning his gaze to Steve’s. “My time was up.” He shrugged. “And my job before I died was to make sure you didn’t kill Kyle.” The inhale of breath filled the cove. “You didn’t.” He looked out over the water. “That’s why.”

  Steve’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know I wouldn’t kill him?”

  Chris smiled and raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t. But I know deep down, even with all this other shit flying around, you’re still a fucking boy scout.”

  Steve huffed and turned toward the water. His mind raced. “Why the hell am I so special?”

  “Because I’m not there to watch over CJ.”

  Steve’s gaze snapped to Chris’s. “And that has to do with me how?”

  “I need you to look after him. To keep him in line. Without me around, the burden falls on you.”

  A burst of laughter echoed on the water. “You have got to be kidding me!”

  “I’m dead serious, Steve. As I said in the letter, you’ve got a big part of me flowing through you now, and he will listen to you. Jess isn’t capable of keeping him in line. She doesn’t have the strength to match his.”

  “And I do?”

  “No, but you’ve got the integrity.”

  A scoff came from behind them and they both turned to see Jennifer standing at the entrance to the cove. Her eyes glued to Chris and his white wings.

  “What the hell did you do to him?” She pointed at Steve.

  Chris turned his gaze to Steve, raising his eyebrows. “Boy, she’s a pistol, ain’t she?” He hooked his thumb toward Jennifer.

  Steve stifled the laugh when Jennifer glared at him.

  “There’s darkness in him that wasn’t there before.” She glared at Chris with her hands resting on her hips.

  Chris’s expression changed and he took a step closer to her, towering as he let his wings uncurl. “I had nothing to do with the changes in him. That happened when he lost his daughter and had to deal with a comatose wife for a year.”

  “Enough!” Steve stepped in front of Jennifer, blocking her from the angry angel.

  “What did you do to my husband?” Jennifer yelled, her hands balled into tight fists.

  “I gave him what he needs to look after my boy.”

  Jennifer’s brow creased. “Who are you?”

  “Does the name Ty Aris ring a bell?”

  Steve glared in his direction, but it was too late. Jennifer recognized the name from a movie that came out a few years ago.

  “That movie.” She shot her gaze back to the angel. “Survival Games.”

  “One and the same.” Chris bowed to her. “Actually my God-given name was Ty Alexander Ryan, but you can call me Chris.”

  Jennifer’s eyes went wide and her hand shot to her mouth as her gaze darted between Steve and the angel. She stepped back, locking glances with Steve. “Did you know?” she asked from behind her hands.

  Steve nodded.

  “You knew he killed those people and you didn’t bring him in?”

  Steve went to speak but Jennifer turned, storming back to the cottage. He turned to Chris. “Thanks, thanks a lot.”

  “You’re in the dog house there.” Chris nodded toward the path.

  “Yeah, well, it hasn’t been a picnic since we got back. And things are going to get a little hairier when Sarah shows up.”

  Chris raised his eyebrows. “The hot cop is coming?”

  Steve nodded. “She’s got a lot of questions and she’s coming with us to your funeral.”

  “Oh.” Chris turned away and looked at the sky before glancing back at Steve. “Yeah, about that.” He buried his hands in his pockets again.

  Steve waited, his brow creased.

  “I need you to bring CJ here after the funeral.” He shot a glance at Steve and received a slight nod in return. “Without Jess.” He shuffled his feet with his hands still buried in his pockets.

  “How am I supposed to get your son here without your wife?” Steve asked.

  Chris shrugged. “You’ll figure something out, but I need to talk to him. I need to set him straight or all this will have been in vain.”

  Steve let the quiet descend. “It was hard on her, you know.” He glanced at Chris. “She had to be sedated.”

  When Chris looked in his direction, a single tear slid down Chris’s cheek and when the sunlight kissed it, the tear sent prisms of light through the cove.

  “You sure you don’t want me to bring her?”

  “Yes. She won’t leave,” he whispered and looked away. “And I’m not so sure I could let her go.”

  “Okay. I’ll figure something out.”

  Chapter 6

  CJ Ryan stood on the porch watching his mother and Tommy talking. He didn’t need to hear what they were saying, their thoughts swarmed, drowning out his own. His mother wanted death. She wanted to be with his father as much as she wanted to be with them.

  Tommy, he just wanted things the way they had been. The way they were before Eric died and Steve Williams walked into their lives.

  He stepped outside and crossed the lawn. “What time are we leaving?”

  His mother turned, and the flash of pain in her eyes shot straight to his heart. She glanced at her watch. “In about an hour.”

  CJ gave a quick nod and turned away, unable to deal with being the source of her anguish. However misguided it was, it still hurt like hell. His jaw tightened and he blinked the sudden onslaught of tears back until they stung his throat.

  He wanted the same thing as his brother, but deep down he knew.

  He knew that if it hadn’t been a bullet, it would have been something else that killed his father.

  Just as he knew their time of darkness hadn’t ended.

  Chapter 7

  Jennifer sat in the gazebo swing, the chain creaking as she kept up the slow arc, pushing off periodically with her feet. The silence of the lake once gave her a feeling of tranquility: now it only brought a near crippling dread.

  Steve once told her he wanted to tear the cottage down and rebuild. At the time she talked him out of it, saying it was charming, but now all she wanted was to burn it to the ground. She wanted it to become a pile of ash and soot. Maybe then the memories would fade.

  With a sigh, her thoughts snapped back to Steve. What the hell was he doing partnering with a killer?

  As if on cue, Steve slid next to her on the bench, looking o
ut over the lake. “I made a promise.”

  Jennifer glanced in his direction. “That man killed people,” she pointed toward the cove. “For fun.”

  Steve dipped his head in a nod. “Yep.”

  “That’s all you can say?”

  He finally turned toward her. “I made a promise.” The words came out between his clenched teeth. “A fucking promise to a dying kid! You of all people should understand what that means.” He stood up, undressing, discarding his clothes in a path from the gazebo to the end of the dock, diving into the cool spring water in only his underwear.

  Jennifer’s eyes misted and she blinked away the tears. She studied the wedding ring on her hand, her heart pounding with a fear she couldn’t name while his graceful stride created consistent whooshes as he sliced through the water. She lifted her chin, watching him swim laps. I don’t know you anymore.

  Steve veered, heading back toward the dock, hopping up on the wooden deck moments later, staring at her. His eyes blazed with anger, his perfect, unblemished skin mocking her, mocking their past and Jennifer pressed her lips together.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want my husband back.”

  Steve raised his eyebrows and spread his arms out. “I’m right here, Jen.”

  Her chin started to quiver and she shook her head. “You’re not the man I married. The man I married would have never let someone like that walk free.” She pointed toward the cove.

  Frustration lined his handsome features and he scooped up his clothing. “I had no choice, Jen. Not only did I make a promise to my partner, but I made a deal with Jessica. I’d forget everything I knew about them, if she would work her magic on you.”

  “Oh, so now you’re blaming me for your lapse in judgment?”

  “Jesus Christ!” He spun and stormed across the lawn into the cottage.

  She sat in the swing staring after him, barely containing her own anger. She stood and followed him inside the cottage, confronting him in the bedroom.

  “What do you want, Jen?” he asked without turning, his voice low and on edge.

  “I don’t know. What do you want?”

  “I want my wife back!” He spun facing her and running his hand through his wet hair. “You haven’t even shown the slightest hint that you want to be here, that you want me here!” He slid into the rocking chair in the corner, his soaking underwear pooling water on the wooden seat as he rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “That you want me,” he whispered closing his eyes.

  The slow scrape of the rocking chair filled the room.

  Jennifer sat on the edge of the bed. “I can’t do this.”

  The chair stopped rocking and Steve slowly looked up at her. “You want to leave?”

  Jennifer held his gaze. “You’re not the same man I married.”

  Steve tilted his head. “Who exactly am I then?”

  “You’re that monster.” She nodded toward the cove.

  Steve shook his head and stood, crossing toward her. He stopped at the foot of the bed, letting his gaze slide over her. “No, Jenny. I’m not. I’m just a man who’s lost everything he’s ever cared about.” He turned and walked out of the bedroom.

  * * * *

  Steve leaned his hands against the front wall of the shower, letting the water stream down the back of his head and neck, his muscles taut under his skin as he fought to control the welling anger. When she walked into the bathroom, he made no indication he was aware of her presence. He stood and let the hot stream pelt his face before stepping back and flipping the water off. After stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist, he met her gaze.

  Jennifer lowered her eyes and started out of the room.

  A burst of anger escaped Steve and the bathroom door slammed before Jennifer could reach it. She spun with wide eyes and he pushed her against the door in a silent command. Her shirt shredded and Steve crossed the distance between them. He stood looking down at her, water dripping from his hair onto her upturned face, reminding both of them of the same situation a lifetime ago.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, still held to the door by an invisible barrier.

  Steve ignored her plea, pressing his lips to hers, his hands finding the curve of her waist and he pressed his wet body against her. Jennifer made a sound of protest, yet her lips parted giving his tongue access. The kiss was slow, but insistent and he wrapped his arms around her waist, releasing the mental hold and pulling her against him.

  “I need you,” he said against her lips.

  Her hands flattened on his chest, pushing him away. “I can’t.” Tears welled in her eyes, cresting and making slow tracks down her cheeks. “I can’t do this. Not here.” Her entire form shook and he could smell the fear radiating off her.

  “I need you,” he whispered. Holding her in his arms still felt right despite her reservations. His eyes blurred from the wave of tears, turning her frightened features into that of a fun house mirror. He blinked, feeling the heat of his tears trace down his face. “Do you…” He closed his mouth on the question. Asking her if she still loved him right now might produce the answer he was most afraid of.

  Instead, he closed his eyes and hung his head, releasing her and stepping back, giving her the space she needed. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, focusing on her earlier thoughts. “You want to tear down the cottage and build a house here?”

  Jennifer blinked and wiped her face. “I, uh…” She looked around and then back at him with a nod and a shrug. Her eyes lowered, lingering on his chest and she swallowed. “His wife, she’s the one who...” Jennifer waved at his scar-free chest.

  Steve nodded. The last couple of days were a blur of doctor visits, validating that Jennifer was indeed okay. Between that and the reconciliation with her parents, they hadn’t had time to talk about what happened in the warehouse, never mind the events leading up to Kyle’s arrest.

  “Do you want to leave me?” he asked, feeling vulnerable in only a towel. Her mind went into a flurry of activity, rendering his mind reading abilities useless. He held his breath waiting for an answer and when her eyes met his, he almost collapsed. All strength left him at her uncertain gaze.

  “I don’t know.”

  He stepped back and sat on the closed toilet seat. The pressure on his chest almost unbearable as another piece of his heart shattered. “Then I guess Kyle won after all.” Bitterness seeped into his voice.

  Jennifer’s head snapped back like an invisible hand slapped her and her expression changed, crumbling into a mask of absolute horror. Her uncertain gaze cleared through the layer of tears and she shook her head. “He can’t win, I just… I just can’t get away from him here. And you, you’re so different.”

  Instead of denying her statement, Steve looked down at his hands. “Jen, I had to live without you for a year. They told me you were brain dead and, after losing Samantha, I couldn’t lose you too, so I hung on. Chris was right—losing everything I cared about did change me and not for the better, especially since the bastard was out there somewhere, still taunting me and still killing.”

  The mere mention of Samantha’s name brought a searing pain to Jennifer, palatable enough that Steve inhaled with almost a wince. Fresh tears cascaded down her face and he closed his eyes. “It takes time.”

  “What takes time?”

  “Mourning our daughter’s death.” He opened his eyes meeting her teary gaze. He stood, tightening the towel around his waist before crossing and cupping her cheek with his hand and wiping away the tears with his thumb. “You’re going to have good days and bad days, just like I did.”

  She nodded and nuzzled his hand for a moment before pulling away. “Where… where is she buried?”

  “Brooksfield Cemetery.”

  The color drained from her cheeks and her chin trembled. Memories of their ordeal in the crypt clouded her mind.

  “Her grave doesn’t face the crypt, it faces the mountains. I’ll take you there after I get
dressed.” He reached beyond her for the door and she sidestepped to let him pass. “We’ll have to make the bed in the guest room. Sarah’s coming up tonight and going to the funeral with us in the morning,” he said as he walked to the master bedroom and rummaged through the drawers for clothes, slipping them on before facing her. Her melancholy mood turned and he didn’t need to read minds to see the irritation lining her jaw. Before she spoke, he added, “She has as many questions as you do.” He paused and plunged his hands in his pockets.

  “But?”

  “But she doesn’t know who Chris really was. She has an idea but it was never definitively confirmed.”

  “And you want me to lie.”

  He bit his lip, debating on how to answer. A part of him did want her to lie for him, but this wasn’t an undercover case and he couldn’t ask her to do that. It wasn’t right. “No. I don’t want you to cover for me.”

  The relief that flooded her features made him smile. “Let’s go.” He ran his hand through his wet hair, combing it into some semblance of order and then grabbed his keys off the nightstand.

  She followed him to the car.

  He sat in the driver’s seat staring at the cottage. “When the funeral’s over, do you want to move into the apartment in New York until we can rebuild here?”

  Jennifer’s eyebrows rose. “I, uh.” She surveyed the cabin, lawn, and lake before glancing back at him. “I guess.”

  “That way you can audition for anything you want.” Steve turned the key and the car rumbled to life.

  “Was there something between you two?”

  “What two?” Steve asked, glancing her way as he pulled out of the driveway.

  “You and Sarah.”

  Steve kept eye contact and sighed. He allowed a nod. “Not in the way you’re thinking, but, yeah. You were clinically brain dead. Your parents filed an injunction to take you off life support.” He focused back on the road. “Jessica’s... whatever... hadn’t started to work its magic.”

  “So, how long were you...?”