“Jake’s not good inside, either.” Boris sounded triumphant.
Jake shifted. He was a good cop with plenty of friends.
“Men friends.” Boris turned his head, his eyes like lambent jade. “You have men acquaintances. Only.”
Jake shrugged, grinned. “Women aren’t made for friendship.”
“Wrong,” both Boris and Gray said.
Gray tapped his pen on his desk, frowning. The hollowness Jake always tried to deny yawned wider inside him. He covered it with a flashing grin. “You want me to be friends with a woman, I’ll give it a try.” He winked. “But we won’t be friends long.”
“See!” Boris yowled. “I am better than he. He doesn’t deserve to be in Shauna’s life. He would not love her like I do, cherish her, protect her.”
Jake snapped his teeth together, inhaled, and counted to ten. “That’s enough. I’m a good cop. I serve and protect.”
Gray’s sigh seemed to shiver the room. “Jake, I’m afraid you didn’t progress emotionally and spiritually in the manner anticipated. That’s a concern.”
Boris slurped as he washed his ear. “So I get My Crown, and My Temple, and when I am bored, My Road of Great Adventure.”
The man frowned. “No. Your task was to introduce Jake and Shauna. You ignored the task.”
The cat stopped washing and sat straight up, glaring. “He does not deserve—”
“That was not your judgment to make,” Gray said. “People can change, especially in a loving relationship.”
Jake doubted that. He’d seen plenty of broken marriages, bad domestic crises, didn’t even think there was such a thing as love between a woman and a man. Sex. Lust. Some tenderness, maybe. That was it.
“Boris, you didn’t complete your task, so you don’t get your Crown, Temple, or Road of Great Adventure. You don’t even get wings to become a lower angel.”
Boris hopped to his feet and arched his back. “No wingssss! I was good. I was the best. You know what I had to put up with from those other Cats! You know my bad life before Shauna! You know my sick-hurt and death! I should get wings.”
Gray’s face softened. Maybe the guy had some compassion and mercy after all. Jake began to think he’d need it.
“You’re very close to wings, Boris, but haven’t achieved them. We have several options available for you.” Gray took a sheet of paper from the pile and Jake blinked. He couldn’t read it, but there were bullet squares, most with checkmarks, and at the bottom some paragraphs in fancy lettering, each gleaming in a different color: red, blue, gold.
He narrowed his eyes at the rest of the stack. Cramped handwriting in dull brown. Sheets with empty squares and only a couple of checkmarks. Looked like a performance review. Were those about him? His gut tightened. He’d always done well in reviews. Before. What did the papers say about him, his life—hell, he started to think this whole crazy thing wasn’t a dream.
Shaking his head, Gray stared at Jake. “You followed the path of least resistance. What happened to that ideal you had about a good family life? A loving wife, children?”
Jake scowled, trying to remember, but couldn’t pinpoint when he’d lost that dream, abandoned the goal as unattainable.
“You could have had that ideal, Jake. If you wanted it enough to work for it and work at a relationship instead of using women and letting them use you. You had a destined mate in this lifetime. A woman who would have helped you grow as you would have helped her. You just didn’t believe in yourself enough.”
Fear spiked. “Bulls—” Jake shoved the chair back and stood—at least he meant to. Nothing happened. He was stuck sitting, couldn’t move. Couldn’t even speak.
Gray waved a hand. “You worked hard on honing your body, a charming manner, but you neglected your intellect, allowed your finer emotions to wither, ignored any spirituality that entered your life.” He tapped his pen. “Didn’t relate well to women. You would never have received that captaincy you wanted because you wouldn’t have enough respect from others.”
Jake’s gut clenched. Respect from his peers was the most important thing in his life. “I was a good cop!” But his voice cracked. Jeez, he was talking in the past tense. A very bad sign. He gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles whitened. Sweat gathered at the small of his back.
“Yes, you were a good cop.”
Jake relaxed a little.
“Honorable, believing in the motto to serve and protect. But you substituted the general public for individuals. Easier than being intimate with someone, isn’t it? You didn’t even like being touched.”
Smiling weakly with the most sincere smile he’d felt on his lips for a long time, Jake said, “A good cop should get wings?”
A flash of amusement showed on Gray’s face. “I’m afraid the standards for human wings are higher than for cats.”
Alarm jolted through Jake; his mouth dropped. “I can live without wings. I mean—uh, I don’t have to be a cat, do I? I don’t want to be a cat!”
Emerging from his sulk, Boris hissed.
Soft chimes wafted through the room. Gray tilted his head toward the room they’d come from. His expression folded into dismay and sadness. “I was afraid of this. Sometimes destiny can’t be denied.”
Jake didn’t see Gray move, but the guy was at the door and through it before Jake could turn his head.
In the other room Gray said, “Come in, my dear Shauna. I’m sorry to see you. I’d hoped to avoid this.” His mellifluous voice had the range and depth of an orchestra. “Welcome to the Atrium.”
He drew a woman of about twenty-eight into the room, holding the tips of her fingers with exquisite gentleness, his manner one of old-fashioned respect and courtesy. With a gesture he indicated a deeply cushioned chair of green plush velvet patterned with golden aspen leaves that solidified between Boris and Jake.
“You’re very beautiful,” she said in awe, looking at Gray.
Jake frowned. The guy seemed to glow and was taller. Jake shook his head and the man appeared the same. Beautiful? Ha. If this was the Shauna woman Boris and Gray had talked about, she’d called Boris beautiful, too. Obviously she had no taste.
She looked at Jake and he was caught by her lovely eyes—a deep amber with gold and green flecks and a rim of brown around the irises. They were soft with emotion matching the sweet curve of her lips. She smiled at him with warmth and sympathy and—yearning?
Those eyes drew him to his feet. Words tore from him. “I know you. We met beyond those doors. Our last time together was far too short, mere days. . . .”
“I know you, too,” Shauna said. The sun lit her blond hair.
Gray’s voice came distantly. “Hmmmm. Recognition, rather easy here, harder during physical lifetimes. However, probable that once both accept recognition, the knowledge will always be there, in every future life. Interesting.” His pen scritched.
Boris yowled. Shauna jerked. She hurried to Boris and picked him up as if he were delicate china, clasping him close.
Jake felt the loss of her attention like an absence of the sun’s warmth. Stupid.
The sense of recognition faded. He’d never met her. She wore a floaty dress in blue that concealed her body, but he thought her breasts were nice handfuls and her hips good and round, even if she was a little plump.
Boris purred, opened one eye, and smirked at Jake.
When he heard her sniffling and saw tears rolling down her cheeks, he had an overwhelming urge to comfort her—but he’d have to brave the damn cat. He scowled and glanced at Gray, who smirked, too. Jake wished he could growl.
“Oh, Boris, it’s so good to see you! It was so hard to put you to sleep, but I couldn’t stand watching you die by inches. Say you forgive me.”
Geeze, the dramatics. Jake sat down. Gray frowned.
“I am fine,” Boris said. “Except I don’t have My wings or My Crown or My Temple or My Road of Great Adventure.” He sniffed. “Perhaps you can speak with—”
“That’s n
ot how things are done,” Gray said.
Shauna glanced at the man behind the desk and blinked. Tears caught on her lashes, and Jake was transfixed at how pretty she looked.
“No intercession accepted?” She smiled.
Gray actually hesitated. Jake couldn’t believe it.
She shrugged. “I don’t have anyone to intervene for me, but if I can help Boris—” Her brow furrowed. “What about my other cats? Who’ll take care of them? What of the feral ones I feed?” She whirled to face the door. “They won’t be put to sleep and come here, too, will they?” Pain laced her voice.
As she turned, Jake got an eyeful of the deep, bloody indentation on the side of her skull, round and as big as his palm. He swallowed.
“Sit, Shauna, that tumble down the stairs was hard on you,” Gray soothed. “There is no true security even in your home.”
“I’m sorry.” She sank into the soft chair. Jake became aware of the hard wood under his own ass. When she looked at him, he forgot discomfort. “Sorry to bore you with my tears.”
He flushed, then shrugged. “No problem.”
She smiled again, then set her shoulders and looked at Gray.
The guy tried to appear stern, but Jake could tell it was a facade. A paper edged with gold with a gold seal in the shape of an aspen leaf and gold ribbons floated to him. “We will review Shauna’s life first.”
Gray tensed.
“Shauna, you learned most of your life lessons.”
Jake wondered if she’d get wings. He gritted his teeth and examined the doors again. Jake was sure he didn’t want to open a couple of them.
Gray went on. “But you didn’t take advantage of the greatest opportunity we sent you.” One big checkbox was blank.
“I was considering it!” she shot back, then slumped in her chair, petting Boris. “No, you’re right. I probably wouldn’t have taken the chance. Too cautious.” Her gaze slid Jake’s way. “Too repressed.” She sighed.
Oddly, Jake didn’t believe that for a minute. He judged she was as intense and passionate about everything as she was about her damn cat. Ex-cat? Ghost cat? Geeze, his brain hurt.
As Gray gazed at them, the only sound was Boris’s buzz-saw purr. Jake wanted to squirm, but sat at attention. Shauna leaned back, face composed, as if she didn’t care which of the doors she’d leave by. His nerves jittered. Which door would be the worst?
Gray sighed. “We have a Situation here. Please put Boris on his stand,” the facilitator said very gently. “He has his decision to make, as do you. You should not influence him.”
Shauna rose and stood regally, with a straight spine—a pretty spine above a heart-shaped ass Jake would have recalled if they’d ever met. Thinking he knew her was another mind trick.
“Yes, Boris must be free to choose what’s best for him,” she said, setting the cat down. “Oh, Boris, that nasty tower.” All she did was look at it and it became pristine quilted blue velveteen. Jake choked at the thought that Boris was now more comfortable than he. Shauna gazed at him with raised eyebrows.
Jake nodded at her and said to Gray, “What’s the deal?” His voice came out rougher than expected.
“Had you, Jake Forbes, and she, Shauna Russell, met as was intended”—Gray looked at Boris, who lifted his nose—“you would not be here. Even if you hadn’t stayed together as lovers or helpmeets, your lives would not have ended. As for Boris, he might or might not be here.”
“So?” asked Jake.
“So, it’s first up to Shauna to decide whether she wishes to go on or go back.”
“Go back? We could go back?” Jake jumped from his chair and the longer leg clattered behind him.
“You want to go back?” Shauna stared at him with soft, luminous amber eyes.
“I sure as he—I sure don’t want to pick Door Number One, Two, or Three,” he said. “They can’t all lead to good places.”
“Why not?” she asked.
He just stared. An optimist. Geeze.
“You may have earned wings, but I didn’t,” he said.
She pinkened. “What are our options?” she asked Gray.
“Individually you may all decide whether to go back to your old life or go forward. If you go back you will have the chance to change vital decisions.” He tapped the papers with a long index finger. “If you go forward, your new circumstances will be based upon what you accomplished in your shortened lives.”
Her eyes widened and her breath became shallow. She licked her lips—signs of anxiety. Finally she got the picture that flower-filled meadows might not be in her future. Jake exhaled slowly.
“I didn’t take the chance that was given to me. I could do it, now.” She glanced at Jake. “Would we remember?”
“After you make certain decisions, you can remember if you try hard enough. But if you go back, there is no guarantee that you’ll meet. If you do meet, you will be given the chance for a long lifetime of love.”
“If we don’t choose love, do we croak again?” Jake asked.
Shauna winced. She was prissy, too.
Papers shuffled. “No. You will live your allotted time, but you will have failed at one of your life goals.”
Shauna looked Jake straight in the eyes, and he felt as if she saw into his mind and heart. He stiffened. Her lips firmed. “I want love. I want Jake.”
A bolt of shock hit him. What had she seen in him? How could she know that? How could she decide so quickly?
“Jake Forbes . . .” She frowned. “Sounds familiar. You died?”
“Yeah.” Jake cleared his throat. He vaguely recalled his death now, and didn’t like it.
Shauna said, “I’ll take the risks. All of them. I’ll work hard at our relationship.” Her words echoed like vows in the room. Unease prickled Jake’s skin. What was he getting into?
Gray stared at her. “You cherished security too much. You’ll have to change, and you’ll have to risk your heart. Even then, Jake has free will. He could walk away.”
Her chin trembled, but she lifted it all the same. Jake felt a spurt of admiration.
“I’ll take the chance,” she said.
What about me? Jake wondered. Could he take the chance at love, with her? Or just a second chance at life? He eyed the doors and shuddered.
“Jake Forbes will have to grow, too. He will have to realize his core belief is that he is unlovable, then change.”
“I’ll love him more than enough!” The passion in her voice made Jake squirm.
“Jake must learn his own lesson. He’ll have to know that he is worthy of being loved before he’ll accept you,” Gray said.
Boris snorted. “I do not want to go back, but I will help.” He slid Gray a glance. “I will get My wings, then My Crown and My Temple and My Road of Great Adventure. I will be an Angel Cat.”
“Done!” Gray’s word roared like a whirlwind.
Shauna jumped on Jake and he caught her reflexively. She felt good and right and just plain incredible against him. Incandescent golden aspen leaves seared his eyes, then lightning-filled darkness descended.
Two
Earlier that August morning, Denver
In the police station locker room, Jake held his Kevlar vest at arm’s length. “Phew, this stinks. They promised my new vest would be in today—that’s why I let Roy use this one when he forgot his last night. It’s still wet.” He looked for Roy, but the man was long gone. Only Jake and Fred, his old friend and partner, were in the locker room.
Fred wrinkled his nose and patted his chest. “Yeah, and it isn’t going to dry out. It’s been over a hundred degrees for two weeks and I’m wet all day, every day. At least I can put up with my own smell. Yours doesn’t look in good shape, and it’s your last day as a patrolman. Maybe—”
Jake didn’t think he could bear the hot vest or Roy’s sweaty stench. “Maybe.” He started to set it aside, then gritted his teeth and put it on, tightening the fraying tabs and donning his shirt. “There are times to break rules and take a ch
ance. This isn’t one of them. But I’ll have something to say to Roy, you can bet on that.” Something poked him. He pulled a yellow aspen leaf from where it had been stuck inside his vest. He stared at it.
“Let’s roll,” said Fred.
Jake dropped the leaf.
That afternoon Jake smoothed his police tunic again, wishing it didn’t stink and he was better turned out on his last day in uniform. When he started his shift next Monday he’d be Detective Forbes. A promotion with more responsibility and more interesting work. He’d miss Fred, and working with a woman, Maggie, would be a challenge, but it was his first real step up to his goal of a captaincy.
He stood beside the cruiser and shook out his legs. Fred and he had been sitting for too long. He squinted at the neighborhood sandwich shop, almost able to taste ham slathered in cool mayonnaise, the bite of brown mustard on his tongue. He hoped Fred hurried up. The temp had reached 105.
A couple of pops down the street caught his attention. Backfires?
Screams. More gunshots. A child’s hysterical voice, cut short.
Swearing, Jake banged on the sandwich shop’s window, caught Fred’s attention, and pointed down the street. Jake ran, pulling his gun from the holster. When he reached an alley entrance to his left, he stopped to glance down it. Nothing.
About twelve feet ahead of him a man ran from a liquor store, holding a young boy about four. And a gun.
The little boy opened his mouth and cried, “No, no, no, Daddy! Daddy bad.” He started wailing again.
Jake’s insides froze, but he kept running.
“Shut up, Mike,” the man shouted in the kid’s ear, then muttered, “I’m not bad. Just had bad luck. Shit happens and ya gotta deal with it.” He saw Jake and snarled, “Get back. Get away from my truck.”
Jake was next to the passenger side of a decrepit red truck; the keys were in the ignition. “Put the kid down!” Jake yelled above the child’s cries. His heart pounded.
“No.” Spittle flew from the man’s mouth. He looked for a way out on the street full of shops and parked cars. People watched from windows. Sirens shrieked, coming closer.
What Dreams May Come (Berkley Sensation) Page 15
