Soul Reckoning

by Nancy E. Polin

  She’d questioned Margie about any … unusual … debts Jimmy may have had, but the lawyer couldn’t really help her. What registered on the books were the usual credits cards and a small loan he’d taken out to fix the plumbing a couple years back. Nothing else to her knowledge.

  So, whatever it was, it was something her uncle had kept close to his chest.

  It crossed her mind she could go to the police regarding the green-eyed man, but realized she didn’t have much to offer. He gave off a creepy vibe, which, although disturbing, was far from illegal. He had yet to come out and officially threaten her, choosing to taunt her instead. No. He had a plan. Those eyes were intelligent, cunning. She couldn’t fathom what it might be, though.

  And that scared her.

  Debts paid by means other than money led to too many dark imaginings. Her brain remained fertile with possibilities.

  A shudder quaked through her and Rowan stepped from the entry to haul chairs up and over the sides of tables. Taylor nodded and smiled a thanks as she did the same. Zoe appeared, dragging the ancient vacuum cleaner, and they all jumped when its growl filled the room.

  Christy had elected to help Sonny out with the kitchen, while Justin cleaned the bar. She’d occasionally catch him watching her, only to look away when she met his eye.

  With all of them pitching in, it took little time to whip the place back into shape, and Rowan soon found herself walking her staff to the back door to wish them all a good night.

  Only then, did she seek Luke out.

  She leaned in the doorway of the office, eying him, irked at the allure of his fluid grace. He’d finished the night’s books and had gotten up to drop the deposit, and now turned, brows raised. “Problem?”

  “No, that would be your department. I did have a couple of things I wanted to ask you, though.” Rowan snapped, not in the mood for his attitude.

  Saying nothing, he leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms. His dark-blue gaze stared, impassive.

  “Well, gosh boss, what did you need? How can I help?”

  Not rising to her sarcasm, he continued to watch her.

  Rowan closed her eyes for a moment and opened them to bite back a frustrated scream. Counting back from twenty, she let out a slow breath. “Do you know anything about my uncle’s debts?”

  He tilted his head and frowned. “I would think you’d have all that information, considering you inherited everything he had.”

  The fierce tone had her blinking. “I meant anything … not above board.”

  Luke stared at her through simmering eyes. “You think Jimmy was a crook?”

  Blood rushed to her face when her temper surged. She held onto it, but spoke from between her teeth. “No. I wondered if he accidentally got himself into something he shouldn’t have. Gambling, maybe? Did he owe money … or whatever … to someone he shouldn’t have?”

  Something shifted in his face, so quick and subtle there was no way she could identify it.

  “Not that I know of.” He straightened. “Jimmy was a proud man, a good man. I don’t think he’d appreciate your suspicions. If you don’t mind, boss, I’m tired and I’d like to get a few hours of sleep.”

  Luke strode by her, flipping off the light.

  She stood for a moment, back stiffening, before her temper slid out from under its thin lid. “What the hell is your problem? I’ve done nothing to you.”

  “Good. Keep on doing it.” Luke pulled the office door shut and turned down the hallway. “I don’t need some spoiled brat looking over my shoulder or ruining Jimmy’s business.”

  Red bled behind her eyes and her temper boiled over. “Spoiled? You know nothing about me. I’d probably be disowned several times over if were up to my mother. Whatever I have, I’ve scraped together on my own. And now I’m just a damned gypsy living in my dead uncle’s apartment. You have a lot of gall judging me. What is even the matter with you? What kind of loser lives in a storeroom in a bar?” She pulled in a breath, lashing out before she could think better of it, a flare of fire blinding her to the sting on his face.

  “The kind that doesn’t need any of your fucking questions.”

  “Like it or not, we have an employee-employer relationship. Could we at least try to be civil?” Pulling in several deep breaths, she tried to calm herself even as her face burned and muscles clenched. Frustrated tears stung her eyes, but there was no way she’d give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. “Or could it be you just don’t like working for a woman?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The hell I don’t! You wouldn’t be the first man to find issue with it.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Then tell me what the problem is.”

  “Why are you even following me?” He spat out, ignoring her words, face granite as he approached his room.

  Rowan stopped short. He’d pushed the door open and his single bed crowded the far corner. He stared at her, eyes burning with cold temper before his face twisted into an ugly sneer.

  “Maybe you feel the need to take a tumble with the help, huh? Maybe do a little slumming, ma chère?”

  The insult was so brazen, so outrageous, she didn’t even think. Balling her fist, she struck out fast and hard to connect with the corner of his mouth. “Bastard.”

  Luke’s head snapped to the right. When he turned back to her, something dangerous lurked in his dark-blue eyes. Unease cooled her insides, and she suddenly became very aware that they were the only two people in the building. Swallowing, she took an inadvertent step backward. Pride screamed for her to stop, but self-preservation prodded her to run.

  She glanced toward the stairwell and took another step back, her fury having disappeared into mist. She’d always been warned her temper would get her in trouble, and it occurred to her that this was a prime example. Luke was a big man, easily six-two and 180 pounds of lean muscle. He could hurt her without breaking a sweat.

  Edging away, she continued to watch him warily. She wanted to run but didn’t think she could get away if he chose to lash out. Something close to terror quivered low in her belly.

  They said nothing for several long moments, tension stretching and tearing. He seemed to wrestle with something deep inside, something she doubted she would ever be privy to.

  Finally, he sighed, long and resigned. “I deserved that. I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

  Rowan eyed him, surprised at his apology but still suspicious. Her fingers curled around the door frame, knuckles white.

  Stepping away, Luke dropped his gaze. “If there’s nothing else that needs to be done, I’m going to get some sleep.” He turned to retreat into his room, shutting the door behind him.

  Still shaking, Rowan stood in the hallway for a long moment, clenching and unclenching her fists. His sudden shift confused the hell out of her. He’d gone from predatory taunting to dangerous fury to what? Luke’s expression had fallen into such sadness it made her chest ache.

  She stared at the closed door for a bit longer, before making up her mind and heading toward the kitchen.

  ****

  He’d refrained from slamming the door, but barely. A ten by twenty room, half-filled with supplies and assorted junk didn’t allow it for long. He dropped to do pushups instead and kept going until his arms trembled, burned, and he lost count.

  Fucking asshole.

  He’d never threatened a woman in his life, but Rowan had absorbed his exasperation, misinterpreting it into something much more dark and insidious.

  Jesus.

  He wouldn’t have noticed the knock, but he had stopped his impromptu workout moments before. Debating the ramifications of ignoring it, he knew he couldn’t. Luke swiped a forearm across his brow and took three steps to open the door. Rowan stood in the hallway holding a bag of frozen vegetables and a damp washcloth.

  Luke shifted his gaze from her face to her hands and back again. “You brought me peas?”

  “I have a pretty impress
ive right hook.” Her voice held gentle surrender as she shrugged.

  “Yeah, I felt that.” Touched and surprised by her gesture, he took the offered bag and held it gingerly to his chin.

  Rowan continued to linger in the doorway, before allowing a resigned sigh. “I’m sorry. I should never have hit you. I lost my temper.”

  Luke felt his lips twitch. She looked so uncomfortable with her admission but genuinely guilty at the same time. “The pop was justified. You don’t owe me an apology.”

  “Here. You’re bleeding.” Pressing her mouth into a straight line, she stepped into the room, holding out the cloth. She gently swiped the corner of his mouth, brows pulled together to form a tiny pucker between. He read concern in her beautiful eyes and unnamed emotion swelled inside his chest.

  Luke sucked in a breath and held it while his heart kicked into a rolling gallop. Not allowing himself to analyze the motion, he reached up and curled his fingers around her wrist. It felt fine-boned and delicate, but the underlying strength was unmistakable. He brushed a thumb to the inside, the skin so soft and smooth.

  Rowan took a half-step back. “What are you doing?”

  Gently, he pushed her hand away. “Goodnight, Ms. O’Herley.”

  She didn’t move, only staring up at him, the dark mist of her eyes flashing. “You know you’re maddening, don’t you? I think hitting you was inevitable.”

  He twisted his mouth into a pained smile. “Probably.”

  “It was either that or—” She cut herself off and edged away.

  “Or what?” He balanced the distance between them, his hands reaching toward hers before he realized it. He let them drop back to his sides.

  “Nothing.”

  Shit, shit, shit. The underlying pull burned beneath his flesh. God, he wanted her. He kept so still, his body trembled. Why wouldn’t she just go already? But no, she stood her ground, now eyeing him as if solving a puzzle.

  Lust had to have been reverberating from him in thick waves, but instead of turning, running like a normal woman might in view of the situation, she stood her ground and stared up at him, accessing.

  “You’re such an enigma. Who are you, really, Luke Meunier?” she murmured, looking up at him with those shining pewter eyes.

  Oh, hell. Luke caught her by the upper arms and pulled her to her toes. He hesitated only a moment before covering her mouth with his. He felt her stiffen for the barest of moments, then her fluid warmth as her lips slid into perfect synchronicity with his. He lost the sting of his minor injury in a haze of desire. A tingle of energy pulsed through him when he wrapped his arms around her slim waist, distantly aware of her hands cupping his face and sifting into his hair.

  The red need of primal want burned under his skin, having him a bit lightheaded when all his blood ran south. Her mouth was so soft and formed to his. He didn’t know if he could keep himself from pushing to explore the rest of her smooth skin and curves, but with one final scraping of her lower lip, he broke away and stepped back.

  Her fair skin flushed and eyes darkened, she blinked, backed away, looking anywhere but at him. Her tongue flicked out in a tiny lip lick and his desire surged once more. He gritted his teeth to keep his passion from taking control.

  “Um, I … goodnight,” Rowan backed away, hit the wall, twisted around, and left.

  ****

  Rowan told herself she hadn’t run away, she’d simply walked away. It had been a long night and she needed to get some sleep.

  At the top of the stairs, she dropped to her butt and pressed her hands to her scorching face.

  Who the hell was she kidding?

  Of course she’d ran. Somehow, someway, everything had slid out of control and she didn’t remember when she’d allowed it to happen.

  She’d almost admitted that hitting or kissing him was inevitable, but bit it back, but Jesus. She’d done both. Of course, technically he’d kissed her first, but she hadn’t exactly stopped him. Touching her fingers to her lips, the feel of his gentle warmth lingered.

  No. It was just one of those things. Her emotions, her fears, all of it pent up inside, no wonder she’d popped off like that. He’d provoked her on purpose. That much was obvious.

  And she’d called him a loser.

  Mortification and regret burned her cheeks and she dropped her face forward onto her folded arms.

  Major jerk move on her part. Her comment had been cruel and heartless. By nature, she wasn’t normally that kind of person and couldn’t imagine why he brought it out in her. She knew nothing of his choices or the reasoning behind them. There had to be something major lurking in his past.

  Tears filled her eyes and flowed in stealth. Silent sobs shook her shoulders as grief overtook her. Rowan let go.

  She cried for an uncle she remembered as a warm and gentle giant with a big, bellowing laugh, wearing the kitty ears she’d favored at six. She cried over an old building she’d inherited that was so much more than what she could have ever expected. She cried over an angry, abrasive, and scarred man with a touch and kiss so achingly tender she felt like she’d thrown open a cellar door to a different dimension.

  And she cried over the fact that she had absolutely no idea what the hell she was doing or what she’d somehow landed in.

  She’d promised herself she would stick it out, but with a tiny sliver of withering fortitude, began to wonder if was worth it. Mom and Daddy would welcome her in delight with only a limited amount of “I told you so.” Maybe.

  No, she couldn’t … wouldn’t … do that. Despite everything, she felt a pull toward this new adopted city of hers with its unique energy, and she was compelled to get to know it even better.

  The scent of roses swirled around her and she shook her head, smiling as her tears continued to fall. “I think, Mavis, you must have been a mother.”

  The presence intensified, aroma thickening. For the briefest of moments, Rowan could have sworn someone squeezed her shoulder. With tentative fingers and a shaking hand, she reached up to cool air and nothing more.

  “I appreciate the effort, although I probably look pretty pathetic from your point of view.” She felt foolish, but since the perfume didn’t dissipate, she continued. “To be honest, I guess I can handle Luke. But I’m not so sure what to do about … the other one. I’m afraid I might even be imagining him. No one else seems to see him.”

  The atmosphere hugging her dropped in temperature until she could see her breath, before a violent wind whipped it away, rushing through her hair and bringing thick peaks of gooseflesh to her skin.

  An instant later, the presence was gone, leaving Rowan’s heart stuttering and her body trembling. “What was that?”

  She sat in the dark a few moments longer before giving up and pushing up to legs a little too wobbly.

  Chapter Twelve

  No sleep and two cups of coffee brought Rowan downstairs when sunlight was still a smudge on the horizon. Going for a run crossed her mind, but the thought didn’t catch hold. She had a feeling she’d collapse before the half-mile mark.

  For the hell of it, she popped a couple of coins in the jukebox and chose some old Motown to get her moving. She could have grabbed the key from the office, but laziness cozied with exhaustion.

  Pulling chairs down, she lined them up under tables, figuring she’d save her staff the trouble later. She also wanted to do a count to see if she needed to replenish any inventory. After last night, she expected as much.

  Walking past the bar into the kitchen, she nosed through the industrial-size fridge and freezer before browsing through the pantry. She checked the unofficial list Sonny had scribbled and tacked inside the door, thinking they might have a few supplies in Luke’s room. Rowan figured she’d worry about that later.

  Humming along with Dianna Ross, she stepped back to the front of the tavern and couldn’t quite stifle a short squawk. Staring, she pressed her hands to her mouth, eyes wide.

  Every chair she’d pulled down had been flipped around to hook b
ack over the edge of every single table.

  Her heart sung loud and persistent in her chest.

  Rowan moved in a slow circle, listening and watching for anyone nearby. Maybe Luke was up and screwing with her, but even as she thought it, she didn’t think it was his style.

  She was so damned tired, she could have imagined she’d rearranged the furniture. As she considered, that seemed the most feasible explanation.

  Grabbing each chair, she tucked them under the tables a second time and headed toward the hall to see about the night’s deposit. Armored transport would be by later that morning and she wanted to double-check everything was as it should be. She also wanted to do a little research to see what it might set her back to pull down that ugly dark paneling in the front. With any luck, there’d be more of that lovely original brick hiding behind it.

  Stopping, she almost fell, the squawk elevating to a short scream.

  She hated screaming, but she gaped at the chairs now lined along the wall opposite the office.

  “What the hell is this?” Rowan couldn’t seem to bring oxygen to her lungs and pressed a heavy hand to her chest. Twisting around, she ran to the front to find every chair lined with every table.

  She returned to the hall.

  The chairs were gone.

  “Shit, shit, shit.” Rowan leaned against the wall and her legs gave out to send her sliding to the worn tile.

  “What the hell is this?” she asked the air again. Something occurred to her and she clenched her jaw. Finding her show of temper ridiculous, she was helpless to rein it in.

  “Robert? C’mon, give me a break. If this is you, I’d appreciate you quitting this shit.”

  No sudden blast of cold this time. No breaking of glass.

  She sighed. Maybe she was tipping the scales toward insanity. Maybe intricate nightmares in her mind were overflowing into the outside world to blur the line between sanity and insanity.

  Rowan dropped her elbows on her knees and hung her head. Tears had flooded from her in a torrent the previous night and now she felt hollow. She vaguely wondered how long it would be before she shattered, dissolved and poofed out into the atmosphere.