Chapter Eleven
Sexual frustration warred with concern. It would have been easy to let nature take its course upstairs in the bedroom. The release might have relaxed them both. But it would have been wrong.
He was here to reap Cilla’s soul, not become her lover.
But he wanted to…badly. He ached to hold her in his arms, to kiss her lush lips, to bury himself in her heat. He raked his fingers through his hair and turned to stare out the window.
Calm and composed, Cilla sat on the couch, legs together, hands clasped on her lap.
He wasn’t sure how she managed. Her brother, a man who should protect her, was willing to try to have her declared mentally incompetent to get his hands on her estate.
And her ex—Alex’s hands fisted at his sides—her ex should have cherished her.
Instead, he was threatening to take the home she loved.
After calling the police, she’d collected a tray from the front porch and dumped what must have been her lunch before disappearing into her bedroom, only to return a couple minutes later with her hair tidied and all signs of her crying jag erased.
An official vehicle pulled into the driveway. A tall man with brown hair veined with silver and a handlebar mustache climbed out. “Police are here.”
Cilla jumped up, went to the door, and opened it before there was time for the man to knock. “Chief Johnson. Come in.” She stepped back and motioned him into the living room. “I was expecting Cal or one of your other officers, not you.”
His sharp blue eyes studied her face before he looked her up and down, his gaze homing in on her upper arm. This was a man who missed little. Alex would have to be cautious around him.
“I’ve known you since you were a little girl, Cilla, and your grandmother was a force to be reckoned with in this town.
We often butted heads, but I had a great respect for her.
” He turned his attention to Alex and studied him intently.
“You must be Alexiares Blackwell. I read Cal’s accident report.
What is it about you Blackwell boys? We don’t have much trouble in this town, but you seem to find yourselves involved in it. ”
“You know Samael?” It surprised him how hungry he was for information about his brother.
They weren’t particularly close anymore, but it wasn’t anything either of them had done or said.
It had happened slowly over time, each brother pulling away, becoming more insular.
Reaping took an emotional and mental toll.
In that regard, they were different from normal reapers who had no problem doing their jobs without being affected or getting jaded.
“Chief Arthur Johnson.” He held out his hand. “Your brother was smack-dab in the middle of my last investigation. I figured he would have told you.”
The handshake was firm and short. “Call me Alex. And I haven’t spoken with my brother in quite some time. I wasn’t aware he was in Redemption until after I arrived.”
“That so? I’d like you to step outside while I speak with Cilla.”
“That’s not necessary.” Surprising both him and the chief, Cilla came to stand beside him.
Chief Johnson stroked his mustache. “Well then, I’m going to assume he had nothing to do with the reason you called the station.”
When he raised a bushy eyebrow, Alex bit back his annoyance, aware the man was only doing his job. It was sensible of him to be suspicious. Alex was a stranger in town, and his big brother had evidently made an impression.
“I’d never hurt Cilla.” Only stand by, watch her die, and reap her soul when the deed was done.
His throat tightened. Guilt was a new emotion.
He didn’t like it one bit. He was only doing his job, but she’d quickly become more than an assignment.
He suppressed his emotions, maintaining an outward facade of calm.
“Why don’t we sit?” Cilla motioned to the couch. Alex sat beside her and Chief Johnson took the chair across from them. She twisted her fingers together and glanced from one man to the other. “Would you like some coffee or something cold to drink?”
“I’m fine, and this isn’t a social call,” the chief gently reminded her. “When you’re ready, you tell me what happened.”
Alex’s respect for Chief Johnson grew at the calm way he spoke to Cilla, handling the situation with professionalism and compassion.
“Richard showed up yesterday. We had words about the property.”
“Ivy House? But it’s yours, isn’t it? Your grandmother and my wife served on a lot of the same town committees, and she made no secret of the fact she was leaving it you.
” The chief leaned forward. “You telling me Richard is fighting that?” He shook his head.
“Your grandmother wasn’t one to leave things to chance. She’d have made her will ironclad.”
The dynamic between the two of them fascinated Alex.
There was history there, a shared past. He had none of that in his life.
He couldn’t allow people to get close to him because of what he was and the fact he didn’t age.
Cilla’s history in Redemption was long and deep, going back generations.
The only people he had that connection with were his brothers, but he’d lost even that.
“Richard has been pressuring me to sell the house and surrounding hundred acres. Apparently, he and my ex have been quietly buying up nearby parcels of land for the past decade, assuming he’d inherit.
” Sighing, she rubbed her fingers over her forehead.
“There’s a small lake, and one of the boundaries runs along the main road, which is ideal for access if you want to build.
Now they need my land in order to complete a deal with a developer. ”
The chief shook his head. “Sorry to say it, but he’s too much like your old man.”
Cilla sighed and rubbed her forehead. “You’ve got that right.”
Chief Johnson cleared his throat. “Are you thinking about selling?”
“I offered to sell him all but the house and parcel of land it’s on, but Richard wants all or nothing.”
“This sounds like a matter for lawyers.”
Alex wanted to jump down the man’s throat. It was the chief’s job to protect Cilla, because he couldn’t.
“I’ve spoken with my lawyer. Grandmother’s will is ironclad, but Richard’s threatening to go to a judge and try to have me declared incompetent and get himself named my guardian. With his legal knowledge and contacts, he’ll find a way to get his hands on the land.”
“That son of a bitch. Excuse my language. But unless he’s hurt you or damaged property, this is a matter for the courts.” His gaze landed on the mark on her arm. “Did he put his hands on you?”
“No.” She absently rubbed the spot. “I’m getting to that.
” Alex felt like a third wheel—unnecessary and ineffective.
“Surveyors showed up this afternoon, followed by my ex, Christopher Hughson. He’s trying to claim he deserves a piece of the land.
He bullied his way into the house, snatched my phone, and grabbed my arm when I tried to reach for it.
If I didn’t bruise easily there wouldn’t be any mark. Anyway, he had his say and left.”
“Where were you when this happened?” the chief demanded.
“Working in the far end of the yard. I was on my way back to the house when I heard his car pulling away.” It made his guts cramp to think about what might have happened.
“This isn’t Alex’s problem.”
Chief Johnson sighed and rubbed his thumb and forefinger down his mustache.
“I’ll be honest with you, Cilla. You can press charges, but without a witness it’s your word against his.
I’ve been doing this job a lot of years.
In a case like this, with your past relationship and with no real physical damage, it’s not going to make it to court.
I can practically hear his lawyer’s argument against it.
” The chief’s blunt assessment was disheartening but accurate.
“I know.” Her calm acceptance made Alex want to object, but it wasn’t his place. He wanted to wrap his arms around her. She was so damn brave, delicate in appearance like one of the roses in her garden, yet fierce as a mama bear protecting a cub—only in this case, the cub was Ivy House.
“I’m going to write up your statement. If something else happens, we have a record to prove an earlier altercation.
You can’t put up ‘No Trespassing’ signs because you run an inn.
I’d recommend having your lawyer send out a letter to both men informing them they’re barred from the property.
If either of them enters the house again, they can be charged with domestic criminal trespass. ”
She bit her bottom lip. “That might only make matters worse.”
The chief rubbed his fingers over his mustache and frowned. “Not sure as I agree, but it’s your decision.”
“My lawyer is aware of Richard’s threats. I have an appointment to see her early next week. I’ll discuss the situation with her then and figure out my best option going forward.”
The fact there was nothing Alex could do to help left him feeling useless. He was a man of action. Having to sit back and do nothing ate at him.
Not my job. Not my job. The mantra did nothing to calm the storm of emotions churning inside him. The Fates had dictated Cilla’s future. No one could interfere, not even him. Change one life and the ripples spread around the world and echoed for generations.
His father was punishing him for remaining aloof from the souls he reaped.
Now the thought of standing by and doing nothing when Cilla died threatened to obliterate what small piece of his soul remained.
It was all or nothing for him. Caring and then calmly walking away was beyond him.
His emotions were too volatile, ran too deep.
It was a flaw he’d covered by cutting himself off from them. Now it was all coming undone.