Dangerous Lovers

by Becca Vincenza

  Her light hair was around her shoulders and she was dressed in the same clothes she was wearing the last time I saw her.

  “Another woman?” Storm said. “She’s hot.”

  I spun around and snarled. “Watch your mouth.”

  “Whoa. I didn’t mean nothing.” He backtracked. After a short pause, he said, “I take it you know this one too?”

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Yeah, I do.”

  But really, there wasn’t anything here to know. Yes, I recognized the body, but it was merely a shell of the person who lived inside. It was she who I missed. I didn’t think she was here. I would have known. After all these years of working for the Reaper, of butting heads with him, there was no way he could have kept the fact that my sister was still alive a secret.

  Besides. I knew she was dead.

  I was the one who killed her.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt your… uh, reunion,” Storm said over my shoulder. “But we need to hurry.”

  He was right.

  There was still one more closet to look in. Gently, I closed the closet containing my sister and faced the final door.

  “If there isn’t something besides bodies in that one, I’m going to be very disappointed,” Storm told me. “I mean, really, what kind of Grim Reaper doesn’t have at least one sinister thing in his secret stash?”

  I was ready to go. For some reason I felt like I’d been in a ten-round boxing match and my body took most the hits.

  I opened the door.

  There was no body hanging inside. It wasn’t a closet.

  It was a room.

  “It’s a secret lair,” Storm whispered.

  I rolled my eyes and walked forward into the room. It looked like a mini apartment. The room was a large rectangle and off to the right was a couch, two upholstered chairs, and a round coffee table. On the wall was the hugest flat-screen TV I’d ever seen.

  Off to the left was a small kitchenette, but it looked like it was never used. Everything was brand new and looked untouched.

  But it wasn’t dusty.

  If this was a place he never used, then it would be dusty; it would smell stale and vacant.

  It didn’t.

  “Ugh, Charming, You might want to look at this.”

  There was a small door leading out of the space. Presumably to a bedroom. But I wasn’t concerned with how the room was used or decorated, but rather what was coming out of it.

  It was a soul.

  It looked just like Storm. Except it was bright pink.

  The soul stopped just inside the room—just hovering there like it was shocked to see us.

  Hell, it couldn’t have been as shocked as we were.

  Now this was interesting. In all my years, this was the first time I ever saw a soul wandering around—besides a Ghost Escort.

  “Is it a Ghost Escort?” I asked Storm.

  “Couldn’t be. All of us are black and that is clearly not black.”

  “You’re just like me,” the soul said, floating a little closer to Storm. It had the voice of a woman. She seemed surprised to see someone like her.

  Clearly she could talk. I guess that wasn’t a surprise, considering the rest of us could talk when we weren’t inside a body.

  “No body here either,” Storm agreed.

  “Are you here to bring me a body?”

  I glanced at Storm. She was waiting for a body?

  “Uh,” I began, for once not being able to come up with a rapid reply.

  “Not that it matters,” she said. “I probably won’t be able to get inside that one either.”

  This just kept getting better and better.

  The Grim Reaper was harboring the soul of a woman who, of her own admission, couldn’t manage to get into a body.

  “You can’t get into a body?” Storm said, intrigued. “That’s like G.R.’s specialty. He can take souls in and out of bodies in his sleep.”

  “Who are you?” she asked, suddenly realizing maybe she should be suspicious.

  “We work with G.R.,” I told her. “Why are you in here? Who are you to him?”

  “This room was secret. How did you find it?” As she spoke she went backward, moving away from us.

  “G.R. told us about it,” I said, taking a step closer.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  And then she started to scream.

  “Shhh!” Storm and I both exclaimed, looking back the way we came. Her screams weren’t that loud. I guess she couldn’t project her sound, but I knew if she yelled long enough, someone would hear and then shit would hit the fan.

  “Shut her up!” I growled at Storm while I ran into the kitchenette to see if there was anything I could use to make her be quiet. But there are no real weapons you can use against someone that doesn’t have a body.

  Except another soul.

  Storm tackled her, the black cloud that made up his form wrapping around her pink form, and the two colors began mixing together. A burst of pink would explode from the center of the black and Storm would make a grunting sound, but then the black would cover up the pink once more and he would swirl around her like an angry thundercloud just waiting to unleash its wrath. Her screams turned to strangled sounds and then died off completely.

  “A little help here,” Storm called as he struggled.

  “What do you want me to do?” I asked, wondering if he was somehow killing her.

  “Find something to put her in!”

  That I could do. I reached into the cabinet where I saw a jar earlier and grabbed it, rushing across the room while I unscrewed the lid and held it out. Storm started circling her, like a spinning cyclone. Round and round he went, whipping up the air around us and creating what could only be described as a tornado inside the tiny apartment.

  “Hold it steady,” he called, and then like a baseball bat, he smacked the pink soul into the jar.

  I stood there stunned that he actually made the shot on the first try. Pink funneled out around the jar and floated around my hand. I waited for it all to gather in on itself and follow the rest of the soul into the jar, praying it hurried up before she came to and tried to get out.

  She didn’t. Whatever Storm did seemed to put her down for the count. When all the pink went inside the jar, I jammed the lid on and screwed it shut, tight.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked Storm.

  “Spending time with the other Ghost Escorts can get a little… irritating. Sometimes we wrestle.”

  “That was wrestling?”

  “Soul style.”

  Soul-style wrestling? Okay, then.

  “We gotta get out of here,” I said, glancing through the door. We were lucky no one heard her and came running.

  “I can’t believe he has a soul,” Storm said. “What’s he going to do with it?”

  “I don’t know, but I know what I’m going to do with it.”

  “Tell me you aren’t,” Storm said, his voice flat.

  “You don’t actually think I would leave this here? A soul in a jar?”

  He let out a few more of those really artful swear words.

  “It won’t be easy to get out of here,” I said thoughtfully. “The bodies are going to be more of a challenge.”

  “You’re taking the bodies too? ”

  “Why do you keep acting so surprised?” I asked, irritated. “This is what we came for.”

  He mumbled something I didn’t hear.

  “Are you in or are you out?” I said coldly. I didn’t have time for his pansy-ass ways. I had bodies and a soul to steal.

  “I’m in,” he said, not even stopping to think about it. Good thing too because I was starting to think he was turning into a woman, what with all his questions, incessant chattering, and gasping about my nefarious plans. Geez, next time I went on a mission I would just hire Barbie. She’d be easier to work with.

  “Good. Let’s get to it,” I said, stuffing the jar containing the soul inside my jacket. “We have some bo
dies to steal.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Vacation - a period of time devoted to pleasure, rest, or relaxation, especially one with pay granted to an employee.”

  Frankie

  I was pretty sure Mondays were invented to remind the poor schmucks who had to work for a living at jobs they hated that the weekend had been nothing but a tease and now they had five long days of torture to look forward to.

  Although really, my weekend hadn’t been all puppies and rainbows anyway. Today the torture was just being moved to another place: the DMV. Although at least here at work, I could get a break from my personal life. I snorted inwardly. The day I started looking at my job as a vacation from life, I had a problem.

  Between lunch with Rosalyn and Charming, him showing up at my apartment wanting to talk and falling asleep on the couch only to disappear the next morning, to being interrogated by Piper on Sunday, I guess I could understand why I wanted to escape.

  It was just too bad my escape had to be screening old people’s eyes for driver’s license renewal and listening to Hagatha tell me I was the worst employee ever, but she wasn’t going to bother to fire me because that would mean she would actually have to work and train someone new.

  Ahhh, to be on a tropical beach somewhere.

  I threw myself into my work all day and ignored my thoughts and the scathing remarks from the witch. I even stayed late to enter some data into the computer that one of the other girls forgot to do. By the time I left, it was almost six and everyone but me and my boss was gone. She was shut into her office and I wasn’t about to go pretend I liked her and say good-bye. Who knows what I would catch her doing in there anyway. Likely sharpening her claws on a dagger.

  I walked out to the parking lot, digging through my bag for my keys. I didn’t notice a white Porsche was parked next to me until I was standing beside it. I was sandwiched between his car and my Jeep when the passenger window rolled down.

  “You stayed late,” he said, leaning over so he could look through the window.

  “What can I say? I love my job.”

  He smirked. “You hate this place and you know it.”

  I gasped in mock disdain. “Is it that obvious?”

  “I just read you well.”

  I snorted. “If you read me at all, you wouldn’t come around me. Go away,” I said and turned to let myself into my car.

  “I am going away.”

  My head snapped up and I turned around. “You’re leaving town?”

  He nodded. “On my way to the airport.”

  I was finally getting my wish. He was leaving. I would never have to look at his face again. Why did I not feel happy about this? “Well, I’d say I was sorry to see you go…” I shrugged, leaving the rest of my sentence dangling in the air.

  He ignored my sarcasm. “Go home. Pack a bag.”

  “What?”

  “You’re coming with me.”

  I laughed. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “It’s not a request.” His eyes narrowed.

  “I don’t take kindly to orders.”

  He opened his door and got out, coming around the back of his SUV. “I knew you were going to be difficult. That’s why I took the liberty of packing a bag for you.” He reached inside the back and pulled out a purple duffle bag. My purple duffle bag.

  My mouth fell open. “You went to my house. You went through my things?”

  “You need to clean out your closet.”

  “How the hell do you get in and out of my apartment?”

  He smirked. “I have friends.”

  “You have friends? How much do you have to pay them to keep them around?”

  “Very funny,” he replied. “I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ll follow you home. Park your Jeep. Then we’re going to the airport.”

  The depth of his idiocy was incredible. “I’m. Not. Going.”

  His green eyes flashed with impatience and he stalked toward me, burying both his hands into his jean pockets. He was wearing jeans. Not dress pants or trousers. Honest to God jeans. They were low slung, worn, and faded with a rip in one of the knees. I looked at his shirt. It was a plain, long-sleeved cotton tee with half the hem tucked into the front of said jeans.

  Holy hell, could he wear a pair of jeans. If I looked like that in jeans, I would sleep in them. I certainly wouldn’t wear dress pants.

  He snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Frankie.” When I looked at him, he continued. “I don’t have time to argue with you. The plane is ready. I’m not leaving you here to wreak havoc on my life while I’m gone.” He brought his jean-wearing self even closer, the toe of his Nike bumping into the toe of my heel. “Don’t think I didn’t know what you were up to at lunch the other day, what you were going to do.”

  I batted my eyes at him all innocent-like.

  “Please,” he muttered. “There isn’t an innocent bone in your entire body.”

  I scowled. “You are so rude.”

  “If I was as rude as you think, I would have killed you for all the stuff you’ve pulled. Instead, I’m hauling you off on vacation and you’re stupid enough to argue about it.”

  Wait a minute. Vacation?

  A sly smile slipped over his features when he saw the interest in my eyes. Gah! I was so stupid. I should have acted like I was still annoyed.

  “Have you ever been to California?” he asked, dangling a carrot in front of a very hungry rabbit (me). “The palm trees, the beaches…”

  Act like you don’t care. Act like you don’t care, I repeated over and over in my head.

  “Rodeo Drive…” he added.

  A rabbit couldn’t resist a carrot. How was I supposed to resist all that? “You’re going to California?”

  “No, we are.”

  “I can’t go to California. I have to work. I have a life.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Please. You hate your life.”

  “I do not!” I burst out.

  He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over that sexy body of his.

  “Just my job and everything currently going on in my personal life… which is all your fault.”

  “Well then, take advantage of a free vacation to Los Angeles. I’ll even give you my American Express card to go shopping.”

  I pursed my lips. “You really think I’m going to screw everything up, don’t you?”

  “Oh, I know you will, and I have enough to deal with already. Get in your car.” He glanced at his watch. “We’re already late.”

  “Oh, shucks. We’ll miss the plane.”

  He grinned. “Private jets don’t take off without their passengers, love.”

  I don’t know if it was the “private jet” part or the “love” part that had me agreeing and climbing into my Jeep and driving home. But before I knew it, I was sitting in his Porsche heading toward the airport.

  It was only then that I realized I hated flying. Planes made me extremely nervous. So obviously it hadn’t been the “private jet” that got me here. It was the fact that the endearment “love” sometimes fell so naturally off his tongue.

  Oh, and the way he looked in those jeans…

  I never even stood a chance.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Aviophobia - the fear of flying.”

  Charming

  You could learn a lot from someone just by watching them. Really watching them. It was something I never realized when I was alive. If I had, I might not have died the way I did. Now, I had a lot of practice at watching people and I knew fear when I saw it.

  I’ve witnessed a broad range of emotion from Frankie, but fear wasn’t one of them. Unease? Yes. Nervousness? Yes. Flustered, annoyed, angry… Yes, yes, and yes. Desire? Desire was my favorite.

  She was literally a kaleidoscope of feeling. You never knew which feelings of hers might blend together and what would happen when they did. I was shocked when she agreed to come with me so easily. I wondered if the dark circles beneath he
r eyes were part of the reason. That and the fact I hadn’t seen her consume sugar at all the last few times I saw her. She was looking a little thin; I realized I liked her better filled out.

  “Are you scared of flying?” I asked. Amusement sparked through me like a sparkler on the fourth of July as I watched her grip the armrests of her seat.

  “No,” she said harshly. Then she looked at the floor. “Maybe.”

  I grinned.

  “Wipe that smile off your face before I do it for you,” she growled.

  “There’s a stash of candy over there by the mini bar.” I pointed to the other side of the plane where all the drinks were kept chilled.

  The jet lurched forward as it began to taxi to the runway. Her skin turned green. I saw her swallow thickly.

  I sighed. Watching her misery wasn’t as entertaining as I thought it might be. I went to the mini bar and pulled out some clear rum and a can of sprite. I combined them both over ice in a crystal glass and took it over to her.

  “Here, how about some sugar poured over liquor?”

  “Thanks,” she said, looking at the glass, but she made no move to loosen her death grip on the armrest so she could take it.

  I sat down in the seat beside hers. “You ever been to L.A.?”

  “No.”

  “Never? Wow. I think you’ll like it. It’s warm and sunny. The sun always shines. The people are tan and beautiful. The palm trees are taller than a lot of the buildings here and the beach—”

  “I’ve never been to the beach.” She interrupted.

  That surprised me. “You’ve never seen the ocean?”

  “Just on television.”

  “I think you’re going to love it.”

  “How do you know?” she asked. I noticed her skin was now back to its original complexion. Her fingers seemed to be getting a little more circulation as well.

  “Because,” I said, leaning in closer to her, “it’s a lot like you. Larger than life. It fills up the space in front of you as far as you can see. And it can be temperamental.” I smiled when she made a face. “One minute it’s crashing onto the sand with great ferocity, but the next moment the waves become gentle and it laps at your ankles like a soft caress.”