Gabriel's Hope (#1, Rhyn Eternal) (10 page)

They were quiet for a long moment, listening to the ocean. Gabe wasn’t going to ask what happened if he failed. He wouldn’t let himself fail. He’d floundered up until now. Too much relied upon him for him to continue barreling towards disaster. No more excuses. No more personal weakness.

“Thanks,” he said and stood. “Is it a safe guess that I now owe you?”

“Only if you succeed,” Fate replied. “I already know what I’ll ask for.”

“Alright. Wish me luck.” Whatever favor Fate asked of Death, it’d be huge.

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Not sure I like the sound of that,” Gabriel said, eyeing Fate.

“Chain of events, my friend.”

Shaking his head, Gabriel left, headed to the place he knew he needed to be. For the first time since taking over the underworld, he had a small semblance of direction. It wasn’t enough to salvage his mess, but it was a start.

Chapter Five

Deidre paced on the beach behind her bungalow, unable to do anything but lecture herself over and over about how stupid she was to sleep with some random stranger. Her blood still raced whenever she thought of his hot touch branding her body. She’d done things with him she’d never admit to, things that made her never want to see him again.

Things that made her knees weak and her eyes drift dreamily to the ocean as she remembered. Something about him touched her on a level that left her feeling at peace, as if he, too, understood what it was to face death each day and struggle to see the light instead of the surrounding darkness. She wasn’t alone when she was with him.

He was so gentle and tender in bed, savoring every touch. He didn’t treat her as an outlet for his own release but as a partner on a sensual journey, one where pleasure was a gift as much as a reward. It was more than sex. It was deeper, beyond the physical joining, the sense of being one. She held nothing back as he drove her to sensations and heights she’d never imagined.

She shook her head and focused on her phone again, willing Logan to return one of her dozens of calls or texts. Dressed in jeans and a tank top, she plopped onto the beach then hopped up. Her body was humming with the stranger’s weird energy. She couldn’t sit without fidgeting or think straight.

She found herself walking down the beach to where she’d met him the night before. She hadn’t considered why he was there, just like she hadn’t thought twice about tumbling into bed with him.

“Like some common whore,” she muttered.

After seeing his name tattooed across her back and the look of pure murder on his face, she hid in the closet until certain he was gone. The man she’d seen in daylight and the one who’d kissed her so passionately in moonlight became two separate people. One she wanted to spend eternity in bed with; the other she felt the need to flee.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid. This is totally karma,” she told herself angrily. “You sleep with a wacko, your boyfriend won’t return your calls. You deserve this, Deidre.”

It was three o’clock. She wasn’t going to be on the beach when dark fell, in case Gabriel came back. Nose wrinkling from the scent of rotting seaweed, she glanced towards the crumbling foundation of the beach house. Her eyes went to the sand in front of the lot. This was where she’d met him, the man who rocked her world. He’d been standing in the brush.

Deidre tried to call Logan again. The phone rang and went to voicemail. From somewhere nearby, she heard someone else’s phone ringing and stepped out of the way, off the path running along the beach. Couples and families had been walking up and down the beach all day. Their footprints remained in sand wet enough to become packed but not wet enough to be squishy.

“Hi, Logan. Me, again,” she said. “Please call me back.”

Hanging up, she shook her head, pissed at him. He really had left her. She deserved it after last night, but still, why didn’t he at least answer and tell her he was done with her? He’d taken the car; it was
her
car!

Angry at him, Deidre texted him. She heard a familiar ring tone – the one he assigned her – and looked up hopefully.

She didn’t see him. Puzzled, she texted him again.

Again, the ring tone. The sound came from the deserted lot. Deidre tried calling him. She heard the phone ring and followed the sound. It stopped when the call went to voicemail. She did it again and again, moving into the brush, where the scent of rotting seaweed came from.

Dialing one last time, she looked up and froze.

The body a few feet away was bloated and pale, missing its face and dressed in the shirt she bought him for his birthday, the one with his initials –
LJM
– embroidered across the pocket. The phone was ringing from its place in his jeans pocket.

That’s what the man, Gabriel, had been doing in this spot last night. He killed her boyfriend. Maybe he meant to kill her, too, but slept with her instead. Or maybe, he planned on coming back for her tonight.

He really was a serial killer. What the fuck was wrong with
her
that she not only drew the attention of such a person but slept with him?

“Oh, god, Logan,” she breathed, eyes watering.

Alarm surfaced. She’d gotten Logan killed by dragging him to the ocean. The killer had already marked her with his name.

She was next.

Full-blown panic hit her. Deidre staggered away and ran to the beach house. She snatched her purse and fled out the front door, running as hard as she could down the driveway. By the end of it, she was sobbing. She dropped to her knees, the vision of Logan’s faceless body forefront in her thoughts.

She’d cheated on him and gotten him killed. He didn’t deserve this!
She
was the one who was supposed to die, not him!

She cried for a few minutes then forced herself up. She had to get out of there and go somewhere safe, her apartment, hours away from where the murderer was. There were too many things she’d wanted to do before dying; now that someone might kill her, she realized how unready she really was. She definitely didn’t want to end up like Logan.

Somehow, Deidre made it to town. She pushed her sunglasses on and hailed a cab.

“Atlanta,” she told him in a shaking voice.

“Ma’am, that’s a three hour drive. The cost –“

“I’ll pay it. Please, just drive.” The desperation in her voice drew his attention. She willed herself not to cry, but she started soon after he left the beach town.

The cabbie said nothing. She managed to pull herself together after awhile but was unable to forget what she’d seen, what she’d done. It was entirely her fault Logan was dead. She deserved the brain tumor. She deserved to die.

She’d never been so scared.

It was dark by the time the cab dropped her off in front of the high rise where she shared an apartment with Logan. Deidre paid the driver and hurried inside, her mind reeling and her body buzzing with the weird energy of the killer who’d marked her. Whenever she felt overwhelmed from her oncoming death or the doctors’ news, she ran to her room until she was strong enough to face the world again. The urge to hide forever made her feel sick.

Deidre left the elevator and went to her apartment. Her hands fumbled with the keys three times before she managed to unlock the door. She flung the door open and slammed it closed, about to run for her room, when she stopped cold.

“Logan?” she whispered, shocked to see the man she’d thought was dead standing in front of her.

He stared back, mirroring her surprise.

“Omigod, Logan!” she all but screamed. Deidre flung herself into his arms, pulling his face down to spread kisses across his features. “You’re alive!” She began crying again. “I thought … I saw you .. and the phone I kept calling and calling and you didn’t … at the beach and I did something so horrible you’ll hate me…” She half-babbled, half-sobbed.

“I didn’t understand any of that,” Logan said but returned her hug. His body was stiff, as if he wasn’t used to hugging her. She found herself comparing him to the stranger, whose body had molded around hers, as if he was made for her and no one else.

Deidre didn’t care. “I am so sorry, Logan. So, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I don’t know what happened. I’m so, so sorry! I thought you were dead!”

“Why would I be?” he returned.

“You wouldn’t return my phone calls,” she said, calming. “Did you lose your phone on the beach?”

There was a pause. “Yes.”

She didn’t let herself listen to the instinct that told her the body she’d seen was wearing the clothes she bought him. Too happy knowing he was alive, Deidre hugged him harder.

“Logan, I saw a body on the beach. I thought it was you. I thought I lost you.” She looked up at him, eyes watering again.

“I’m right here.” He withdrew, and she noticed he was agitated.

“Look, Logan, I don’t care why you left me at the beach house. If you don’t want to be with me, it’s okay. I’m just … I’m so happy you’re okay,” she said.

“I want to be with you,” he said in the same tone he used to describe the deficiencies of the beach house’s security.

“You might not after I tell you this.” She took a deep breath. “I did something terrible.”

He crossed his arms, waiting. Deidre wiped her eyes and saw the mascara smeared on her fingers.

“Let me freshen up a little first,” she said with a watery smile. “Give me a minute?”

“Yes.”

She couldn’t help feeling familiar annoyance at him as she turned away from him. While beyond thrilled he was alive, she realized she still wanted to dump him.

“Wait.” His sudden grip on her shoulder was tight.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, wincing.

“Gabriel.” He read the tattoo visible through the tank top’s straps.

“You’re hurting me,” she murmured.

He released her.

“That’s what I have to tell you. I have to go to the bathroom first though.”

Deidre crossed to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She glimpsed the mess that was her face and decided to wash it and redo her makeup. She needed time to compose herself to tell him about her one night stand. He’d probably storm out and leave her. At least he was alive.

Leaning against the sink, she breathed out a deep sigh. She felt horrible thinking it, but she was utterly relieved whoever it was on the beach, it wasn’t Logan. Her thoughts clearing, she realized she needed to call the police about the body she found.

With another deep breath, she leaned over to push aside the shower curtain and grab her face wash. Her hand paused as she stared in bewilderment at what sat in the bottom of the bath tub.

Bones. Lots of them. And a human-looking skull. They looked too clean to be real, like props bought from a Halloween store. What was Logan doing with a disassembled skeleton in the bath tub?

Deidre washed her face and redid her makeup before venturing to peek into the bathtub again. The sound of squishing drew her attention to the bath mat next to the tub. What appeared to be red wine was squeezed out of the bath mat at the weight of her step. She lifted it to see the outline of a puddle of the liquid beneath the mat.

Blood, not wine. Wine didn’t congeal like this did. Disgusted, she stood. It was more blood than from a razor cut but nowhere near enough to justify a full skeleton in her bathtub.

This entire day was weird. Was she that far gone? The doctor said a sign she was deteriorating would be hallucinations. First the tattoos, now bones.

Deidre leaned down and touched a bone to see if it disappeared. It didn’t. It certainly felt solid. There really was a pile of bones in her tub. Was that better or worse than hallucinations?

“You okay?” Logan’s knock jarred her.

“Coming.” Deidre wiped the blood off her foot onto a towel, unable to piece together what the hell was going on. When did she step into the Twilight Zone?

She left the bathroom, weirded out. Logan was in the living room. The lights were on and glowing, the television on quietly. She thought she heard the door to their bedroom close and glanced back.

“So, Gabriel,” Logan’s voice was casual enough to tell her he suspected something.

Deidre’s shoulders dropped. She sat on the arm of the sofa.

“I did something. If you don’t want to forgive me or can’t, I understand,” she started.

He was gazing at her warily.

“I kind of had … well …” she sighed. “Logan, I slept with someone else.”

“Gabriel,” he guessed.

“Yes. I don’t know who he was and will never, ever, ever see him again.” Her eyes watered. “Logan, I think he killed someone. And now, he’s going to kill me. He marked me like serial killers do.” She turned and pulled her hair aside to show him the tattoo once again. “I found the body and I thought it was you and I lost it. I came straight here. I am so, so sorry! So sorry!”

He gazed at her, emotionless. She expected him to react, but he didn’t. She heard a sound from their room again and stood, understanding.

“Oh, Logan,” she breathed then rushed on. “You’re having an affair, aren’t you? That’s why you’ve been acting weird and came back and why you’re not upset at me.”

“That’s … possible,” he allowed.