Shit. He should have called the cops on her for disturbing the peace. He should have turned a deaf ear to her selfish rationale. He should have been tough and not let Princess get under his skin.
Too late.
Jesse marched into the living room, kicking the wadded mission paper like a soccer ball. Could he trust she'd eventually give up?
Greater than the sum of all of Prudence's God-given gifts was her bulldog tenacity. He'd no doubt she'd sneak into Hell and hunt for Swift on her own. Between Swift and Prudence, he couldn't have culled an ounce of common sense.
If by chance she succeeded and Swift conned her into joining his hunt for Heaven's Door, the pretty rookie might succumb to a life in Hell. Worse still, if the demons captured her, he'd never forgive himself. Even the most gifted Runner wasn't immune to death.
Prudence needed to be stopped. But how?
He scooped up the wadded paper and took it into the small kitchen. He could at least close one part of his past. Flicking a stove burner to high, the blue flames licked past the wrought iron pot grates. He flattened the wrinkled sheet, prepared to torch the corner and drop it in the sink.
Turning it to ash wouldn't complete the mission.
But taking a new partner into Hell would.
If he ran this one mission with Prudence, she would realize chasing after Swift by herself was too dangerous. Then he could leave. Leave with a clear conscience.
With a flick of his wrist, he killed the burner and then grabbed his motorcycle keys from the counter and his leather jacket from the back of a kitchen chair. She'd be at her apartment by now, curled up in her pajamas, unless she was more headstrong than he imagined.
Shit. It was entirely feasible she could be halfway to the Gate already. Then he'd never find her. In a panic, he flung back the door.
Prudence pushed off the sand-colored brick wall outside his apartment and greeted him with a wide smile. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, and her cheeks were rosy from the chilly air. “Fifteen minutes. You're not such a tough sell after all, Jess.”
“You didn't sell me anything.” He closed the door hard behind him. “Here.” He wadded the paper in a loose ball and pitched it to her. “Read it.”
She straightened it under the porch light, the paper crinkling like kindling catching flame.
“What is it?”
“Your first mission.” And your last.
“Does this mean we're partners?” Her genuine smile would have broken a softer heart.
“It means hang onto your tiara, Princess. Tonight you might lose it.”
Chapter Four
Jesse coasted his motorcycle off the busy Ben Franklin Parkway and into a parking spot of his own design. Barely wedged between two compact cars, they at least sat close to the front gates leading to the Rodin Museum grounds.
“This isn’t really a spot,” she said, worried they’d get a violation.
He said something she couldn’t hear and cut the engine.
Fine. If he got a ticket, it wasn’t on her.
“Christ, Luckett. We’ve stopped.”
Motor dead, she could hear him through the helmet—sort of. “What?”
“I can hardly breathe.” He gripped both her wrists and yanked, but her grip was so strong he hardly budged her.
Afraid of falling off, she’d crisscrossed her arms over his chest when he sped out of the apartment complex.
“Seriously. Let. Go.”
“Oh. Right.” Finally aware, she relaxed her fingers and pulled her hands free of his grip and then clutched them to her chest.
Until he forced her to relinquish her death grip on his jacket, she hadn’t realized how hard she’d fisted her hands. They ached. So did her knees from squeezing his ass and her legs from crushing the bike. Her whole body continued to vibrate painfully.
“Get. Off.”
“What?” Her ears hadn’t yet adjusted to the lack of sound.
“You have to get off first so I can set the break and the stand.”
“Oh. Sure,” she hollered, still hearing the roar of wind and combustion from the V-twin engine ringing in her ears. Crazy that she knew it was a V-twin. Her dad’s passion for anything mechanical had rubbed off on her more than she’d realized.
Unsteady but not wanting to admit it, she slung her left leg over the back wheel—bad move considering her lack of height—smashed the front of her helmet into the back of his with a crack that made him curse, and then pirouetted onto the sidewalk. She stuck the landing, but it was ugly getting there.
“Next time I’ll do better.”
He grunted, kicking the stand and then stood, straddling the giant machine. After removing his helmet, he glared at her with the power of a thousand sarcastic retorts. To his credit, he voiced none of them.
“Give me your helmet, Luckett.”
She fumbled with the strap and then yanked it off. “Is it safe? Leaving them out here?”
“I lock them to the bike.” He dethroned and took her headgear.
In less than a minute, he had their helmets secured and then he strode, long and fast, onto the grassy stretch next to the sidewalk.
Feeling like he wanted to leave her behind, she hustled after him.
“You wanna slow down? My legs aren’t as long as yours.”
He didn’t answer, just kept moving, so she hurried to keep pace.
Since the main entrance would be locked at this hour, they cut through the yard at the Barnes Museum next door to the Rodin and took the open sidewalk behind the concrete wall that cordoned the museum from the rest of the city.
She never understood the purpose for the main entrance other than the narrow-wrought iron gate that looked so elegant when closed behind the elevated statue of The Thinker. Of course, she hated The Thinker and was glad she didn’t have to pass under him tonight. He sat on his sidewalk pedestal, eternally judging all passersby.
“Won’t the cameras pick us up when we get to the gate? I think the sensors kick in after six.”
Again, he didn’t respond but simply turned right onto the path leading to the closest set of stairs. The reflecting pond, sitting in the center of the grounds and trimmed in low boxwood, mirrored the front of the gate in its glassy surface. Again, the design didn’t make sense, and she voiced her opinion to her new partner.
“Ever take a good look at the museum? I mean a seriously good, long look? What the hell were they thinking? Two sets of stairs on each side of the portico instead of one grand set up the center. Shit. Rodin deserves something, I dunno, better than this. I’ve seen mausoleums with more panache.”
“You troll graveyards in your spare time?”
Finally, a reaction. Shame he didn’t laugh. She was going for that if only to relax the mood.
“Really? You’ve seen my training schedule. Have I had spare time?”
A half smile graced his lips. “I’ll go with no.”
He took the side stairs two at a time, but her shorter legs wouldn’t allow her such a generous stride.
Instead, she shot the short distance to the top with her legs hammering like pistons. When the right and left set of stairs joined into one, she slowed and then stopped, slowly, languidly, taking in the twenty-foot-tall sculpture in all its magnificence.
Though she’d trained for five straight years, she’d never been given the opportunity to stand before the Gates at night.
The bronze, illuminated by subtle lighting, set off the sensation her life was about to change. Was about to become more substantial. Was about to become more worthy than the sum of all its parts.
Her blood tingled, as if electrical particles swam freely with her red and white cells.
She turned to Jesse, her vision slightly hazed. “Is it my imagination or are the figures moving? Undulating in what? Pain? Remorse?”
“Just moving. Don’t think about the why. I take it you’re ready? You can see them without fixating.”
“No.” From her peripheral, she noticed a pinpoint
of red light turn to green. “See.” She pointed. “I think the cameras are activated. The question is, will anyone notice? How will that be handled? Do they send security after us? Or wait until we leave? We’ll be through the Gates in a minute.”
“Not unless you shut up.”
“Shut up?”
“Thank God we took the bike. If you talked like this for the entire ride, I might have turned around.”
“Ha. Ha. Cute, Thorne. Cut a girl a break will ya, I’m just—”
“Nervous?”
“No. Not nervous. More—” Heavens. She was more—anxious, excited, exhilarated—oh hell, she was more of everything.
“Nervous is the right answer here. I’d go with it if I were you.”
“Okay. Yeah. Nervous.” And it was true.
“Good. You should be. It’ll keep you sharp. You’ll be even sharper if you shut your pie-hole.”
“I don’t like pie.”
He frowned down at her. “Not the point. And don’t worry about guards. Most of the time no one’s watching. It’s a total waste of worry.”
With a deep breath, she sighed. “Good to know.”
“Now, relax and stare at the door. It only takes a few seconds for the bronze panels to blur then we can pass through.” For some reason, Jesse thought he still needed to instruct her.
“I’ve passed through the Gates before, you know. At least a hundred times in training. The first time when I was only nine.” She rolled her eyes at him, dramatically and deliberately.
“Don’t do that. I don’t like it any more than your motor mouth. And didn’t your mother tell you your eyes might get stuck—”
She didn’t bother to listen to him finish. Prudence focused her gift until the Gate disappeared, and then she stepped into Hell as a Soul Saver for the first time.
Hell’s First Ring foyer, a barren wood of leafless trees and cobblestone road, stretched out as far as her eyes could see. Her blood raced faster like she was made entirely of electricity and heat.
“That was rude.” He stepped up behind her.
She turned to him and arched an eyebrow, an expression she’d found more effective than yelling. “So was talking to me like I’m a child.”
The portal solidified again, the backs of the doors a smooth if tarnished bronze.
“Look, Thorne. All I’m saying is, respect me and I’ll respect you. That was the foremost lesson you taught.”
“Point taken, but it doesn’t mean you won’t need reminders. And I intend to give them.” He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, rookie. You’ve dished out your serving of crow. Let’s get a move on.”
Sufficiently indignant, he took off like a bullet, but she caught up quickly and met him stride for stride all the way to the asset’s pickup sight.
»»•««
Prudence would have considered the mile-long stretch of Main Street charming if the zip code hadn’t ended in triple sixes. Brick and mortar shops with long windows sported many a hand-printed sign announcing special sales. Striped, canvas awnings flapped gently in a warm breeze, providing unnecessary shade from the artificial sun overhead. She half expected a gaggle of laughing women to spill out of the coffee shop.
But that was the problem. No one did. No one could. The streets were abandoned, and the stores stood dark.
As if her thoughts were a trigger, the front window of the bakery lit up, and she stopped short. A ribbon of sweet melted chocolate oozed through the air toward her. She tingled with fear and a little admiration.
“Stop thinking, Princess,” Jesse said over his shoulder.
“I can’t.” She walked in a circle, taking in every detail despite the prickle creeping up the back of her neck. “It’s too amazing.”
The neon sign hanging in the diner’s window hummed until OPEN glowed Hell-red. Not unpleasantly, the savory aroma of meatloaf mingled with the chocolate issuing from the bakery.
Her stomach grumbled.
Jesse pointed a finger in her direction. “Rule one. Never go on a mission hungry.”
“Well, it’s not like you let me plan ahead.” Her mouth watered, and she swallowed hard. “The simulators don’t come close to the real deal.”
Jesse slowed his gait to walk beside her. “This isn’t real, or we wouldn’t be here. The lost soul facilitates this mirage and Hell contorts it enough to scare the shit of out him.” He shot her a sideways glance. “It should scare the shit outta you.”
“If you thought I was a crybaby, I wouldn’t be here.”
A smile played at the corner of his mouth, but he fought it off. “Could be true.” He nudged her and pointed from one set of stores to the next. “Notice how we’re the only people on the street?”
She nodded.
“Far as I’m concerned, it’s the worst part of the punishment. This is the soul’s fondest memory, except stripped of companionship.” He looked at Prudence, not through her, for the first time—ever. “Being alone is a hell unto itself. A person might as well not have a pulse if they can’t connect with like-minded folks.”
A little lump formed in her throat. He spoke with profound emotion and understanding of the human spirit. She wasn’t surprised, only that he’d shared it with her. Innate decency was more irresistible than a washboard stomach.
“The whole setup is brilliant if you think about it,” he continued. “Satan’s gotta bring his A-game if he wants to cull from the Big Guy.”
His eyes had brightened and though he didn’t smile—and who would in Hell—he no longer frowned. Engulfed in the element he knew best, she couldn’t fathom why he’d ever submit his resignation, no matter what the circumstances.
“True that.” She matched his step. “So, how far are we?”
“How far are we what?”
“You know, how far are we from the Gate?” She glanced back over her shoulder.
“Farther away than you’d like to know, partner.” He picked up the pace, lengthening his stride.
Partner. Her chest swelled with pride. With any other runner, she wouldn’t have ventured so deep on her initiation assignment. She liked the thought of it. She liked the way he looked at her, too, as if confident in her abilities.
Double-timing her step, Prudence walked shoulder-to-bicep with Jesse.
The heart of town transitioned into a residential neighborhood. Stately homes with immense front yards replaced the stores and parking lots.
“Over there,” Jesse pointed to the house cater-cornered from their position. He held up a crinkled photograph. “The gingerbread explosion.”
Explosion was right. The fanciful trim overpowered the home like Spanish moss strangling a tree.
She slowed to a stop and sized up the too-perfect Victorian home. The false sun shone squarely on the half acre of shady lawn. Robins tweeted sweetly from the high tree branches and like in town, the too-strong-to-be-real aroma of hot, buttered cornbread wafted through the open front window.
“Talk about A-game. No wonder the old attorney got duped.” But she understood below the pretty surface, unspeakable ugliness feasted. Her empty stomach tensed. Ugliness they’d have to penetrate in order to save the lost soul.
“Quit dawdlin', Princess.” Jesse clicked the latch on the white picket fence encircling the manicured lawn. He flashed an irritated-at-the-rookie look over one broad shoulder “This side of the Gate, it doesn't matter who your daddy is. If a demon gets you, it’s over.”
Arrogant cuss.
So they were back to the Princess routine? Had she imagined Jesse warming up to her? Apparently, he wasn’t done testing her mettle. Too bad for Jess. Prudence had been raised by a superior button pusher. She’d set his ass straight.
Later. Better to wait until he committed to a permanent arrangement.
She took a calming breath. “What's your hurry, Jess? It's not like he can hop another ride outta here.”
He turned to face her, maintaining a backward stroll toward the porch. A wayward lock had escaped his messy
ponytail and fell across his face. He looped it behind his ear and set hard eyes on her. “It's not about speed. It’s vigilance. A lesson you'd be smart to apply to both sides of the Gate.”
“Don't worry.” She kept her tone light without a hint of irritation. “I'm being vigilant.”
Laughter reeking of sarcasm seemed to stifle the birds. “You're sightseeing. All surface. You've got to dig deep and feel what you see. Hell, you’re an Empath for fuck’s sake. It should be second nature.”
“It is,” she said, feeling a little defensive. “I was just—”
“Distracted. I get it. But don’t get distracted here. And don’t trust anything but your core. That goes for the job and people in general.” His voice lowered, and she sensed his focus turned inward. “Trust me—it's a hard lesson.”
Hard lesson? Where did that come from? And did he actually condone following gut instincts, over rules? Not what she’d expected from the world’s most stringent instructor.
Prudence suddenly realized she’d spent five years avoiding the one man in Hell Runners worth studying. Conceited? Absolutely, but Jesse had inadvertently revealed qualities she’d not noticed before. She’d pegged him for a loner, yet he confessed a need for human companionship. And those sharp eyes exuded a wounded strength—forged on what? Like all Hell Runners, except her, his past had been sealed.
But as his partner, he’d surely reveal his secrets to her in time. And she wanted to know his secrets more than ever.
“Now let's get moving.” He turned, sauntering up the brick walk.
His hips rolled in a confident way she wanted to hate but didn’t. The seat of his jeans had worn thin, and a dash of black briefs peek-a-booed through the frayed threads over his right butt cheek.
As his partner, she shouldn’t be checking him out at all, but her female sensibilities insisted she ogle.
And what was the harm? The job needed more perks, and that view rated as a Perk Number One. The allure of his swagger was as appealing as his voice. But if their partnership was going to work, and it would work, she’d have to face her misguided attraction head on.
Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1) Page 4
