She reached into her purse, pulled out some cash and ignoring Lucas’ protest, stuffed it under the edge of her plate, then stood and prepared to brave the elements.
“I’m sorry, but I have to get going,” she said, wrapping the scarf around her head in hopes of keeping her willful hair under control. “It was nice meeting you.”
Lucas twisted his bulk out of the booth, grunting a little as he rose. He swiped a few crumbs off his chest and straightened his shirt to cover his stomach before gazing at the storm lashing the windows. “You sure you want to go out in that?” he asked.
Well… no, she really didn’t. But her job might be on the line, not to mention some poor woman’s life, so she would do what she needed to, elements be damned.
“I’ll be fine. Though my grandpa always said water weakens you.” She smiled and moved toward the door. Maybe if she ran to her car she wouldn’t get soaked.
“Why don’t you let me drive you where you want to go?”
Lucas’ voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned and met his beseeching gaze.
“C’mon. You can’t turn down my gentlemanly offer.” Julie started to shake her head and he hurried to add, “I drive taxi for a livin’, it won’t mean a thing.”
She laughed off her discomfort. For a moment he’d seemed desperate to keep her with him. Silly, of course. This case must be getting to her more than she thought.
“I don’t want to send you into this rain if you’re on your break, Mr.…. Lucas,” she said, awkwardly.
He brushed past and opened the door. A blast of cold rain preceded his words, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He hurried down the steps, gray head bent against the driving rain, and disappeared into the growing fog.
One thing Julie had learned about island life, being near the water meant dealing with swift changes in weather patterns. Mike had always loved the rain. It was one of the reasons he’d wanted to move here. The lushness of the rainforest, giant cedars, and the lure of the ocean called to both of them. They’d planned to raise their family in this ecological wonder of the world, but he’d died before they got the chance.
A yellow cab sporting a black stripe and resembling a motorized bumble bee pulled up to the curb. Julie bundled her wool jacket, pushed the door open, and hurried down the stairs, grateful for the kindness of a stranger. As she settled in the front seat, warm air wafted through the center vents, sending a gold cross hanging off the mirror twirling crazily.
“Where to?” Lucas asked, glancing over while shifting the car into gear.
Startled, she looked up from the hypnotic swaying of the religious symbol. “Oh, the police station, please.”
Now it was his turn to look alarmed. “You in trouble?”
She smiled, charmed by his obvious concern. “No, I’m not in trouble. I have a meeting with one of the detectives. I’m a reporter.”
The rain decided to kick it up a notch and Lucas switched the wipers to high and the vents to defrost. Julie was relieved to see him slow down and place both hands on the wheel. There wasn’t a lot of traffic moving around in this weather, but she couldn’t help tensing anyway. She was well aware of how quick accidents occur. A blink of an eye and your whole world could change.
“A reporter, huh?” Lucas’ voice drew her back, grounding her in the now, instead of then. “What made you choose that for a career? It’s not the friendliest profession, is it? Those microphones and cameras up in a person’s business until you’re ready to punch someone’s lights out.” He glanced her way, his gaze hooded. “No offence.”
Her curiosity piqued, Julie turned in her seat and searched his suddenly grim countenance. “You don’t like reporters much by the sound of it.”
“Does anyone like people nosing into their business?” He tried to laugh it off, but she wasn’t buying it.
“What happened, Lucas?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t always drive cabs for a livin’, that’s all.” He shot her a swift look from unfathomable eyes. “We all have secrets; things we wish we could change. Even you, I bet.”
Especially her.
Julie faced forward and stared at the mesmerizing effect of the rain slanting against the windshield through the tears blurring her vision.
Chapter Eleven
Connor spent a frustrating couple of hours chasing the shadow that was Julie Crenshaw. The news station turned out to be his first big mistake. Those bloodhounds never knew how to leave well enough alone. The second he’d given his name at the door, he’d been guided right inside. Clenching his gut to smother the annoying butterflies—probably heartburn from the burrito he’d wolfed down for breakfast—he rubbed his pec a couple times and followed a woman in corduroy coveralls down the hall.
“Aren’t you that detective who upset Julie at the beach last week?” She glanced over her shoulder and gave him the once-over. The look in her eye said she found him lacking.
“I’m pretty sure she was distraught before I arrived,” he said, noncommittally. How long was this hallway?
They sidestepped around a scissor-lift parked against the wall and the door came into view. He let out a near silent sigh of relief that turned out to be premature because she turned and held up a hand, halting their progress.
“Listen, I get that you have a job to do, we all do, but Julie is different. She’s been through some bad shit, so take it easy on her, okay?” Striking blue eyes zapped him with laser-beam intensity. He’d been warned.
If he weren’t so anxious to make sure Crenshaw was safe, he’d have found this little exchange amusing. Connor was glad she had people in her corner, it must be tough juggling a full-time job and both parenting roles to a couple of growing boys.
The thought of her struggling to get by after losing her husband twisted the tension in his stomach another notch. Though why it should matter to him that she’d once been a happily married woman, he didn’t care to guess.
“I just have a few questions,” he said to the firecracker bristling before him. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“Well, see that you don’t,” she huffed, then spun on her heel and slapped the crossbar on the door, allowing it to open with a crash loud enough to wake the dead.
Several sets of eyes centered on him like he was a bullseye and they held the darts. Friendly bunch.
He followed Julie’s champion down a row of mix-and-match desks, some occupied, some recently vacated if the mess of papers and flickering computer screens were anything to go by.
She slowed near an empty desk crowded with different-sized framed pictures, stacks of folders, and maybe the largest red coffee mug he’d ever seen.
“Ron, where is Julie?” The woman stood, hands on trim hips, and glared at the surly looking hulk leaning back in his seat, feet crossed on the edge of a scarred wooden desk.
“Do I look like her mother?” he scowled. “What do you want from me, Sam?” He dropped his legs, but remained seated, his dark gaze landing on Connor. “Who the hell is this?”
Connor stepped forward, angling between the combatants. “Detective O’Rourke. Mind answering a few questions…?” This guy was carrying a serious chip on his shoulder. Connor was tempted to knock it off. He didn’t like men who spoke offensively to women. It reminded him of his childhood a little too much for comfort.
The guy finally got to his feet. He was big, three or four inches over Connor’s own six feet. With linebacker shoulders and visible ink, he cut an intimidating figure. Not that Sam seemed very alarmed.
“That’s Ron Henderson. He’s supposed to be helping Julie learn the ropes,” she said, sarcasm ripe in her voice.
“I can talk for myself, thank you. Don’t you have a truck to clean or something?” He kicked his chair out of the way and strolled around the corner of his desk.
She shot him a go to hell look and touched Connor’s arm. “His bark is almost as bad as his bite. Don’t get too close and you’ll be fine.” Satisfied she’d gotten the last word in, Sam grinned a
nd sauntered down the rest of the row and out of sight.
Ron shook his head and turned to Connor. “What do you want to know, detective?”
“How long have you been a reporter, Henderson?” The man had the look of a jaded cop. Eyes that had seen too much, a mouth that had lost the ability to smile naturally. Tough, leathery skin. A lot like himself. Connor rubbed his pec again.
Henderson stood taller. “What difference does that make?”
“I just wanted to know how qualified you are. Telling the news is a big responsibility.” Connor quit prevaricating and made his point. “You don’t want to be jumping any guns and creating a mass hysteria with the public. I think Julie… Mrs. Crenshaw, could be in over her head. If it’s your job to take care of her, I suggest you do it. Get her off this case before she gets hurt.”
Fuck, stick to business shithead.
Henderson’s ears perked up at the personal reference. He relaxed and leaned against the desk, boots crossed at the ankle, hands cupping the edge of the desk on either side of his jean-clad hips. “She’s right pretty, ain’t she, detective. Maybe you’re a touch more invested in her than the case.”
Connor’s hands fisted and of course Henderson picked up on the tell. His lips quirked. “Julie is her own person, O’Rourke. I’ve already tried to talk her out of following this story, but she’s sunk her teeth into it. All I can do now is watch her back, and keep her as safe as possible. Meanwhile, if you quit harassing the news media, do your job and catch this motherfucker, we won’t need to worry about our girl anymore. Right, Detective?”
How the hell had he managed to lose control of this conversation? And who decided she was our girl? Julie Crenshaw was no one’s girl. She was all woman.
Chapter Twelve
Mike followed the taxi carrying his wife through the fog and rain. What was Lucas doing? He should be freaking out at the disappearance of his—whatever she was to him. Not down here messing around with Mike’s wife.
Even if it was just as a cab-driver.
Why was he bothering? What did he want?
Jules couldn’t help him find the girl. None of this made sense. Then again, it didn’t make much sense to hole someone up in a cave for months just to make a point, either. He’d gone off the deep end for a while after his return to earth and the family he’d lost. Revenge dug vicious talons into his chest that hadn’t eased until after he’d taken Lucas’ girl.
An eye for an eye.
Except it hadn’t helped, not really. He was still dead, and his wife and kids were still alone. On top of that, he liked Natalya. She had to be scared. Had to wonder what he was going to do with her. If he planned on… hurting her.
She couldn’t know that he wasn’t like that. His only goal at the time had been payback for what Lucas had done to him. So middle grade, when he thought of it that way. But it had bugged the shit out of him the way the guy seemed to have lived a blessed life—who wouldn’t want to be a movie star?—then he dies and still gets the girl. Such bullshit.
The rain pelted his skin, but Mike didn’t mind. It was infinitely preferable to the gray nothingness above. He loathed that place. Couldn’t imagine spending the rest of eternity there.
Alone.
He missed Julie with every beat of his wings. Every breath he took reminded him of all he’d lost. Their daughter would have been walking by now, had she lived. He thought of her often. Wondered which of them she would have favored; Jules with her expressive hazel eyes and quicksilver temperament, or him with his dark hair and green eyes? In any case, she would have been loved ferociously. He’d been surprised, and a little hurt, when Julie decided to make the move from Chicago to Vancouver Island. It had been their dream, somehow it seemed wrong that she was continuing without him.
And yes, that made him a selfish, self-centered prick, but that’s how he felt. It was bad enough he had to watch his kids grow into fine young men without his guidance, but it felt like another blow to the gut that it was happening in their dream spot and he wasn’t there to enjoy it.
The cab’s signal light came on and it made the turn into police headquarters. What was going on? Was Jules in trouble? His kids?
Mike dropped out of the sky like a lodestone, drawn to the flashing beacon of the taillight. He stood near the rear bumper, his wings folding against his back, and watched through the quickly fogging windows as Julie spoke to the cab driver—Lucas.
She opened the door and climbed out, her shapely legs getting splattered by the rain.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said, bending over to look at the driver. “Are you sure you don’t want any payment?”
Mike heard a few mumbled words from within the vehicle, then Julie said a hurried good-bye, slammed the door and raced for the covered portico, quickly disappearing from view.
Mike hesitated, torn between following his wife to find out what was going on, and confronting Lucas.
The choice was taken out of his hands when the car was thrown into park and shut off. The other angel clambered out of the vehicle and glared at him across the roof.
“Where’s Natalya?” he growled.
Mike’s lips twisted. “What, no hello?”
Lucas practically levitated, except his overweight human body limited his movement. His face grew florid with the effort of controlling his temper. It was quite entertaining.
He squelched through the puddles and came around to the passenger side, facing Mike with closed fists the size of ham hocks. “Where is she, you asshole? She had nothing to do with the accident. Let her go, Monk.”
It was Mike’s turn to growl. He hated that name. Ever since they were paired together in Heaven with the task of saving human lives in exchange for a second chance, the damn angel had given him that stupid moniker. All it did was remind him he wasn’t likely to be having sex any time in the conceivable future. Something guaran-damn-teed to piss him off.
Not feeling any warm fuzzies at their reunion, Mike crossed his arms and leaned against the car. “She’s safe. For now. Tell me what you’re doing here, Lucas. Why are you following my wife? She can’t help you find your girl, if that’s what you’re after.”
He could see it in the other man’s face, that’s exactly what he was up to. Dumb angel.
But then a sly look entered Lucas’ eyes. “She sure is pretty. Bet you wish you could slip into a human’s body like I can, don’t ya?” He rubbed Neanderthal knuckles up and down his impressive paunch. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her for you.” His teeth gleamed through the drizzling rain.
Mike had him nailed to the car like a bug to a board before the last word dripped from his annoying tongue. “Shut the hell up before I…”
Lucas leaned forward, got in his face. “Before you what? Kill me? You’re a little too late for that, buddy.”
Mike tightened his grip, tempted to slam the guy into next week. But then he saw the underlying pain in Lucas’ gaze, and let him go, took a couple steps back, and watched him wrestle his shirt into submission. “Why did you bring Julie to a police station?” he asked again, calmer this time.
“She’s a witness in a murder investigation.”
Mike’s heart leapt into his throat. “What?” He started for the doors, pushing the angel aside.
Lucas held up his hand and halted his progress. “Wait, she’s fine. She saw some evidence of a crime, that’s all. They just want information from her, that’s why she’s here.”
Holy. Hell.
The color leeched out of the other man’s already pale face and Lucas hurried to open his car door before grabbing Mike’s limp arm and leading him to the seat. He’d forgotten how attached the angel was to his wife. He hadn’t meant to shock him like that. Even if he did deserve it.
“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked you out. There’s a couple of good cops on the case, and I’m here to watch her. Nothing’s going to happen, okay?”
Mike swallowed hard and nodded. “What did she see?”
�
��It’s more like what she found,” Lucas said, and grabbed a stray bottle of water from the floor. “Here, drink this.” He cleaned the mouth with the edge of his shirt and handed it over.
Mike grimaced, but accepted the drink. He took a deep guzzle, then swiped his mouth. “Tell me, man. I’m imagining the worst here.”
“I should leave you hanging, you’d deserve it after the stunt you pulled, but one of us has to be the bigger angel.” Lucas grinned and patted his gut. “And I don’t mean this.”
Mike growled and put a hand on either side of the door to propel himself at Lucas.
Lucas threw out his bear-paw-sized mitt and shoved the man down. “Take it easy. She found a severed foot on the beach. The cops got her statement and now they’re following up. Like I said, she’s fine.”
The rain slithered down the nape of his neck as though to cool his temper. Beating the shit out of the guy holding his girl… friend wouldn’t do anything to bring her back.
He stepped back, giving them both a little breathing space. “I know you must be worried about your ex, but she’s in good hands. The detective on the case seems like a smart man, he’ll look out for her.”
A couple of uniforms came out the front door, eyed the cab, then continued down the steps and into the parking lot.
“I gotta get going before I get pulled over. Not sure, but I don’t think it’s legal to inhabit someone’s body,” he joked. “Why don’t you tell me where I can find Nat and I’ll be on my way.”
Mike stood—towering over Lucas, which he hated. “Don’t ever call my wife an ex or I’ll make sure you never see the girl again.”
He shoved past Lucas, his wings unfurling into a dark gray cloud as he went. Within seconds he was several feet off the ground.
Frantic, Lucas tried to shift, but couldn’t seem to make the change. Mike was rising fast, soon he’d be gone from sight.
“Where is she, you son-of-a-bitch?” he shouted.
Mike turned and gazed down on him. “Keep my wife safe, angel, or you’ll never find out.” Then he turned, and disappeared into the mist.
The Beast Within: Mended Souls #2 Page 5
