Chapter Twenty-One #2
The only way she could help Alex was by disarming this assassin.
That’s what they were. They’d tried to burn them alive.
When that hadn’t worked, they’d shot Alex without hesitation.
The sounds of fighting meant he was still alive, but neither of them would survive if she didn’t find a way to turn the odds in their favor.
Hands gripped around the broken shovel handle, she eased into the shadows.
This gazebo was as familiar to her as Ivy House.
She’d spent her childhood playing here and knew every nook and cranny.
Most of the overgrown ivy had been cleared away—Alex’s work—but there was enough remaining for her to use to her advantage.
The top step gave a telltale squeak. She waited until the gunman had taken one more step, then another, mentally tracking his position. Bursting out from her hiding spot, she swung the head of the broken shovel.
He started to turn, but it was too late. The shovel slammed into his skull. He stumbled, going down on one knee. Ignoring the queasiness in her stomach, she slammed it down again.
With a grunt, he fell forward and didn’t move.
The blast from outside made her flinch. Hands shaking, she managed to pry the gun from her downed attacker’s hand and bolted from the gazebo. The other assassin was on the ground staring sightless up at the sky, a bullet hole in the center of his head.
Then she saw Alex. He was bleeding from three different spots.
“Oh God.” Skidding to a stop beside him, she dropped the gun, yanked her sleep shirt over her head, and pressed it against the worst wound in his chest. It did little to stem the flow. When he coughed, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “I’ll go get help.”
When she tried to leave, he caught her hand, gripping it with surprising strength.
He tried to speak but wheezed, finding it difficult to catch his breath.
One of the bullets had likely hit a lung.
Tears trickled down her cheeks. She swiped her face against her shoulder, but it did little to stop the stream. “You have to let me go,” she told him
“Never.”
“Just to get help. I’ll be right back.”
He shook his head. “Too late.”
“Don’t say that.” A tear rolled off her chin and landed on his face.
“No regrets.” He made another raspy sound. “Love you.” His big body went limp.
“No! Alex! You can’t die. I love you, too.” Grabbing his shoulders, she shook him. “I love you.” Ivy House was on fire. Sirens screamed in the distance. It would likely be too late to save her home. That meant nothing to her, not when the man she loved was dying.
“Do you mean it?”
Hearing a stranger speak, she grabbed the gun and spun around to face the latest threat. “Call an ambulance,” she demanded. She had no idea where her phone had gone and it was dead anyway, which made no sense, since she’d charged it.
A massive figure emerged from the darkness. He was cloaked in black from head to toe, obscuring him from view. A large scythe—even taller than him—was gripped in one hand. Her blood literally ran cold. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” There was no other explanation.
“No, but you’re supposed to be.”
Keeping a tight grip on the gun, she pressed the fingers of her other hand to Alex’s neck in search of a pulse. It was faint but there. It wasn’t too late. “He’s alive. Please get help.”
“You go. I’ll stay with him.”
She shook her head. “No offense, but I’m not leaving him alone with you.
” That blade looked wicked sharp. And where were the cops?
Hadn’t anyone heard the gunshots? Come to think of it, she could no longer hear the sirens from the fire trucks.
Even the insects were silent. It was as though the entire world was holding its breath.
What is happening?
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“You know who I am.” He pushed down the hood, his gaze landing not on her but Alex.
Black hair fell to his shoulders; eyes blacker than midnight blazed with an inner fire. The features were more refined but similar enough to make her gasp. “You’re…his father.”
“Yes.” He strolled forward, his steps noiseless on the grass. There was an ageless quality about him. He commanded the space without even trying. “Did you mean what you said?”
“That’s close enough.” Every fine hair on her body was standing on end.
Her fingers flexed around the handle of the gun.
Every cell inside her screamed she was in mortal danger.
The fight-or-flight response kicked in, but she did neither, unwilling to leave Alex to the tender mercies of this man, no matter what their family relationship.
Every second they wasted brought Alex closer to death.
“Did you mean it when you said you loved him?”
“Yes.” She put one hand back on the blood-soaked top and pressed down hard, uncaring she was giving the stranger a view of her naked breasts.
Not that he seemed to notice. All his attention was on Alex.
“Get help or I’ll shoot.” The man she’d beaten with the shovel in the gazebo had been self-defense.
And he might be alive, for all she knew.
This was premeditated, but she was determined.
“I believe you mean that. About loving him and shooting me.”
“I do.” Her finger tightened on the trigger.
“You were the one supposed to die, not him.”
“What?”
“You were his assignment. Alexiares was supposed to reap your soul. The first rule of a reaper is you don’t interfere with Fate. One snapped thread is all it takes to unravel the universe.”
She had to be dead. Or maybe unconscious and having some sort of nightmare. None of this made any sense. “What are you saying?” The weapon shook in her trembling hand.
“Have you figured it out yet?” Somehow he was right beside her, the sharp blade gleaming in the moonlight. If he’d wanted her dead, he could have taken her head with a single stroke.
She tossed the weapon down and used both hands to try to staunch the bleeding, but blood continued to bubble up, warm and sticky on her skin. She bit her lip to keep from screaming.
Why won’t it stop?
She refused to give words to the wild thoughts running through her head. “Please help him.” If threats wouldn’t do the trick, she’d beg.
“Say my name.” He never raised his voice, but something reached inside her, compelling her to answer.
She opened her mouth and closed it. She licked her dry lips and tried again. “You’re Death,” she whispered.
What she was saying and thinking was impossible. It had to be. Yet, he was standing beside her, the embodiment of a nightmare, complete with cloak and scythe. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Fear was a living, breathing entity inside her.
“Death. The Grim Reaper. Azrael. I have many names. I have only three sons.”
It was mind-boggling to think of Death having sons.
That Alex was one of them took it to the level of mind-blowing.
This couldn’t be real, had to be a nightmare.
“Shouldn’t he be immortal if he’s your son?
” Blood continued to ooze from the wound, a sign his heart was still pumping.
But for how much longer? “How could you allow this to happen?”
“It was his choice. All he had to do was let you meet your end and reap your soul, and his immortality would be restored.”
“What kind of father are you?” Fear vanished beneath an onslaught of molten hot fury.
“I spent my entire life trying to live up to first my father’s and then my brother’s and ex-husband’s expectations and failed miserably.
And guess what? None of us was happy. Alex is not you or an extension of you.
He’s his own person. Parents are supposed to want the best for their children, not force them to live up to some unrealistic idea of what they think their offspring should be. ”
“He’s a reaper.” He said it as if that explained everything. Maybe to him it did.
It was impossible to wrap her head around the idea that this was true, that this man—this being?—was who he said he was. If he was telling the truth, that meant she’d slept with a— Nope, she wouldn’t think about it now. She was at the end of her rope.
“Maybe so, but he’s so much more. Do you even know your son? He has a passion for motorcycles and loves the beach. He tries to remain aloof but jumps in to help. He’s kind and has a huge heart.” She swiped at her eyes, uncaring she was getting blood on her face.
He’d been all over her business—because she was his assignment. Reality struck like a blow to the stomach, making her double over. It had all been a lie.
Maybe not everything. He hadn’t been pretending when they’d made love, when he’d risked his life to save her.
He was in this predicament because he hadn’t done what he was supposed to do.
He’d been as helpless to the attraction between them as she was.
“Was sleeping with me part of the assignment?” She needed the truth.
“No.”
That was it, one word. His father’s face remained impassive, dare she say, grim. Neither her impassioned speech nor the sight of Alex bleeding out seemed to touch him. Alex was pale and still, his breathing no longer perceptible. “Help him!”
“There’s only one way to change the outcome.” From his disinterested tone they might as well have been discussing the weather instead of his son’s life.
She was afraid she already knew the answer but had to ask. “What?”
“Things must be made right. Mistakes corrected.”
She licked her lips, her mouth dry. Her teeth began to chatter from the sudden chill. It was as though he’d sucked all the heat from the area with his mere presence. Or maybe she was in shock.
“How?” When he continued to stare at her, his black eyes unblinking, she understood.
Alex had been sent to reap her soul. She had to die for that to happen. Only she hadn’t, because Alex had sacrificed himself to save her. It was the kind of love she’d always dreamed of, but it wasn’t meant to be. “What happens if I don’t?”
“There is no afterlife for reapers.” Death pressed the blade of his scythe against his son’s throat. “Once they’re gone, it’s forever.”
Heart screaming in pain, she threw herself on top of Alex. “Stop! There has to be another way. I don’t want to die.” She was too young. There was too much she’d left undone, so much she wanted to do. It would be easy to let Alex go. She barely knew him, owed him nothing.
Except, even knowing the cost, he’d traded his life for hers, had thrown himself between her and the gunman, taking the bullets meant for her. He might be a reaper, but he bled, and if his father was to be believed, he could die.
He’d said he loved her. Even if he hadn’t, actions spoke louder than words, and there was no greater sacrifice he could have made. It was only when faced with his death she’d admitted that she loved him. Pretending she didn’t wouldn’t keep her from heartbreak.
She sucked in a shaky breath. There was no way she could live with herself if she allowed him to die in her place. Death had mentioned an afterlife. That suggested she might get another chance at life. Alex had none.
Maybe she wouldn’t make such a mess of things next time around.
Death remained a silent sentinel, neither encouraging nor condemning her. Whatever choice she made, it was up to her. Swallowing heavily, she pressed her lips to Alex’s one final time and raised her head. “Do it.”
The night grew darker and the world began to spin.