Chapter Twenty-Three
Rather than go to the local motel, they’d opted to stay in his room upstairs.
The smell of smoke hadn’t reached the second floor, which should have been impossible.
Other than the kitchen area, only he and Cilla stank of smoke, and a thorough shower and bagging their dirty clothes had taken care of that.
Like the damage to his motorcycle, the aftermath of the fire wasn’t as catastrophic as it should have been. Alex had no doubt he had his father to thank for that small miracle.
As a precaution, a firefighter had been stationed downstairs for the morning in case the fire flared up or had somehow snaked its way into the walls undetected. He’d left shortly after lunch.
Dressed in jeans and a sleeveless blouse she’d retrieved from her bedroom after getting the go-ahead from the fire chief, Cilla left the bathroom and joined him on the edge of the bed.
“I’m exhausted, but I’ve got too much adrenaline pumping to sleep.” She finger-combed her thick hair, waves forming as it dried. “I keep thinking about everything.”
Resting his elbows on his knees, he rubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah, it’s a lot to take in.” He was coming to grips with being fully human while she was trying to comprehend everything that had happened and deal with the fallout.
Cilla had contacted Rosa. After a long, tearful conversation, she’d convinced her friend not to come over until tomorrow.
Wanting to help, Rosa had offered to contact everyone with a reservation for the next two months and cancel.
It was going to take at least that long, probably longer, to deal with insurance and repairs.
They’d have a better idea in a few days.
“Want to take a walk in the yard?” As tired as they both were, they needed to talk.
She slipped her feet into a pair of flat canvas shoes. “The rose garden?”
“The rose garden.” If there were bodies there, that was going to create a whole other problem.
He stood and held out his hand, breathing a sigh of relief when she took it. A part of him kept expecting her to change her mind and send him away. And honestly, he wouldn’t blame her if she did.
They made their way down the main stairs and out the front door to avoid the mess in the kitchen. It was another hot day. Summer was winding down but it wasn’t ready to let go yet. In no particular hurry, they walked around the house to the back garden and paused to survey the damage.
Burnt wood lent an acrid stench to the air.
Soot darkened the clapboard. It would need to be repaired and repainted.
Shattered windows would have to be replaced, the porch rebuilt.
The gaping hole in the back of the house was an abomination.
An entire section of rose bushes was gone and a large swath of lawn scorched.
It had to hurt Cilla to see Ivy House in this condition, but rather than cry and wail at the unfairness of it, she got on with the business of doing what needed to be done. He had no doubt if he wasn’t here, she’d handle it on her own, but he was here.
“I’ll go to Franks’ Hardware later and get what I need to tarp the open area before nightfall.”
“I’d appreciate it.” When she rubbed her forehead, he wondered if she was getting a headache or if she was simply tired and overwhelmed.
“Hey.” He turned her toward him. “We’re in this together, remember? I know my way around a construction site. Family business, remember? I’ve built many structures from the ground up. I may be broke, but I can make a living.” All those years of curiosity had given him one hell of a skill set.
“You’re a handy man to have around.”
“And don’t you forget it.” With his hand resting on the small of her back, they headed toward the overgrown path that led to the secret garden. He took the lead and emerged first, breathing a sigh of relief. “There’s no body.”
Cilla walked toward one particular spot. “There’s no sign of any blood. The ground isn’t even trampled.”
He slipped his arms around her from behind. “Like the lack of damage to the house, this has to be my father’s doing.”
“Why?” She turned in his arms and rested her cheek against his chest. “Why would he bother?”
He shrugged, trying not to assign altruistic motives where none might exist. “I honestly don’t know.
Maybe if the men were found here it would mess up the timeline.
I’m sure their bodies will be discovered somewhere at the appropriate time.
Whether they’re tied to the fire or not remains to be seen. ”
“Should I mention to Chief Johnson that I recognized one of them?”
“What?”
“The one I took down with a shovel delivered the letter Christopher sent informing me he was suing for half ownership of Ivy House.”
Alex’s heart stuttered. What if her ex hadn’t decided to start with a legal threat? The assassin could have killed her at that first meeting. There was no point in playing “what if” games. They were alive. That was all that mattered.
“It might not be a bad idea to tell Chief Johnson. Say you glimpsed him outside the bedroom window last night. If your ex-husband is behind this, that information will give them a place to start investigating. Keep it simple and stick to the truth as much as possible.”
She gave a snort. “The truth would get us locked up. I lived through it, and I’m not sure I believe it.”
He tightened his arms around her. There was a chance he might lose her once the shock wore off and reality set in. “I’m sorry for everything.” Nothing he could say or do would ever make up for the trauma she’d been through.
She tilted her head back, her hair brushing his arm. Her eyes were bloodshot with dark shadows beneath them, but she’d never been more beautiful.
“I can’t say I won’t have nightmares in the days ahead. How many people can say they met Death and lived to talk about it? Present company excluded. All I ask is that you have patience with me if I get weirded out on occasion.”
Ignoring the clutch in his gut, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Whatever you need.”
She trembled, her bottom lip quivering. “Thank you for saving me.”
“We saved each other.” He frowned and slowly repeated the words, “We saved each other.”
“Alex?”
“The sacrifice. That’s the reason we were given this opportunity.” As much as he hated to, he had to give credit where it was due. “And because I’m his son. Insubordination on that scale would never have been tolerated from a normal reaper.”
Of course a normal reaper would never have been in this situation.
They went about their business in a quiet, competent manner, seeming to get deep satisfaction from ferrying souls to the afterlife, emotionally unaffected by the job.
Only Alex and his brothers were cursed with a full range of emotions and daddy issues on a truly grand scale.
“Why do you say it that way? A normal reaper? Are you much different?”
“My brothers and I are anomalies. Reapers live to reap. It’s all they want to do.
When they’re not on the job, they spend their time together in Shadowland, the reaper homeworld.
They have little desire to explore this realm, to interact with humans beyond their assigned tasks.
” He’d never understood them. “Samael, Kieran, and I couldn’t wait to come here. We wanted to experience everything.”
“Oh my God, Sam’s a reaper. He’s your brother, so of course he is. Why is he in Redemption? Is Adrianne safe?” The questions tumbled out one after another. “With everything going on I didn’t make the connection that if you were a reaper, Sam was, too.”
“The diner was the first time I’ve laid eyes on Samael in person for decades. I had no idea he was in Redemption until I arrived. Contact between us was blocked until that day at the diner. That’s why I was unable to reach him by phone.
“All I know is our father sent him here first, and he completed his assignment.” Alex desperately wanted to talk to Sam, but he was no longer a reaper.
There was no telling how his brother might react to the news or what he’d do.
He’d likely view it as a betrayal of all they were, of their legacy.
Or would he? Samael had mentioned he was working with Adrianne, that he couldn’t leave.
Was it possible his brother was in a similar situation, or was Alex grasping at straws?
“Is he a danger to you?”
He brushed a kiss on the crown of her head. “I doubt it. We have a deal with Death.” He had to assume Sam would honor it, but there was no way to be sure until they came face-to-face.
His life had irrevocably changed. A pang of loss hit hard. There was no telling if his relationship with his brothers would survive his defection.
It was funny. He’d toiled for thousands of years to amass wealth, but the only material things he’d miss were his motorcycles. Building a life with Cilla more than made up for the loss.
“What about your mother? Or is it mothers?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. None of us do. Our father never talked about it, and we weren’t brave enough to ask.”
“Got it.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I was supposed to die, wasn’t I?”
“Yes.”
She swallowed heavily and nodded. “Is it still going to happen?”
“Someday we both will, but there’s no way of knowing when.” He wrapped his arms around her. “All we can do is live one day at a time.” The timeline had to be preserved. All he could figure was that Cilla being alive didn’t disrupt it to any degree.
They stood there a long time wrapped in each other’s arms before she finally broke the silence. “We need to check the gazebo, don’t we?”
He kissed her forehead and released her. “Stay here.” Not wanting to subject her to any further trauma, if possible, he started toward the structure. She was right beside him.
“Not a chance.” She caught his hand. “We’re in this together. Besides, you’re as susceptible to a poisonous snake as I am.”