Divine and Dateless (33 page)

I rose from my hiding spot when her aura illuminated the lettering etched into the marble: Michael Davis MacLeod, beloved son and brother.

My uncle's grave! Those assholes!

"How dare you!" I shook Sarge's hand off my arm and stormed toward them. "How dare you defile his grave!"

Instinctively, I raised my arms, screaming. The wind escaped my hands before I had a time to reign it in. It knocked the boys flat on their asses, their cries of mercy muffled by the gusts of air smacking them with dirt and empty cans. Then the shovel spun up from the ground, smacking Big Dude's forehead before landing against a tombstone. Puberty Boy screamed as Big Dude's head lolled to one side.

I lowered my arms when I realized what I'd done. I looked at my fingers as if they were possessed. They were ice cold and glowing a pale blue. "What happened?" I cried.

Puberty Boy jumped to his feet and ran away screaming, chasing after the BMW's retreating taillights.

Sarge raced past me and knelt by the unconscious boy, checking his pulse. "Just knocked out," he said. "He'll wake up with a nasty bump."

I barely felt my feet propel me forward as I drifted past them, falling to my knees on top of my uncle's grave. His tombstone was covered in bright orange frowny faces.

Frowny faces? What dicks!

"Are you okay?" Boner asked as he draped his skeletal fingers across my shoulder and squeezed.

Funny how I didn't jerk away. A few weeks ago, I would have passed out from fright if I'd met Boner at a cemetery. Now nothing morbid or gross bothered me anymore. It was like weird had become the new normal.

I sniffled as I wiped a tear off my cheek. "My mom's going to be so upset when she sees my uncle's grave." My throat tightened, and I had to bite my knuckles to keep from sobbing out loud.

Sarge moved over to me, placing a firm hand on my other shoulder. "This is one of the nicer cemeteries." His soothing voice had none of the edge I'd gotten used to. "Don't be surprised if the ground-keepers have it cleaned up by morning."

I looked up at Sergeant through tear-soaked eyes. "I sure hope so."

Biker bars in Purgatory were a lot like biker bars on Earth, except the guys with knives protruding from their chests usually weren’t laughing it up with their buddies, leaking beer onto the floor through their gaping stab wounds. Sarge had taken us to his favorite hangout after our mission, letting me ride on the back of his bike while the others piled into Stoner’s van that looked like it had been ripped from Scooby Doo.

Boner held out his beer mug and tipped it at me. “That was freaking wicked awesome, Ash.”

I leaned against the side of the bar and smiled my thanks, taking a slow sip of my strawberry margarita while I tried not to be bothered by Sarge’s possessive hand on the small of my back. He’d staked his claim on me from the minute we walked into the place, draping an arm over my shoulder and leading me to an empty seat at the bar. He’d taken the spot beside me, scooting so close his leg was practically crushing mine, and hadn’t left my side since.

“Nice work, Ash,” Crow said before shoving a handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“What a bright aura you have.” Basil smiled and took a drag off her bong. “The aliens must have given you an upgrade.”

“You guys were awesome, too. Wow, Boner.” I laughed before swallowing a gulp of my drink. “I thought your nickname was for something else?”

He arched a brow, his expression reminding me of Jack whenever he farted and couldn’t find the origin of the smell. “What?”

I shook my head, stifling a laugh. “Never mind.”

I figured it would get real awkward, real quick if Boner and I started talking about the snake he kept tucked away in his pants. Besides, Sarge’s fingers digging deeper into my skin was signal enough I needed to change the subject.

“You ready for another?” Sarge breathed into my ear.

I looked down at my nearly empty glass. “I’ve probably had enough already.”

“One more. You’ve earned it.” He whistled at the bartender and pointed to my glass. Then he edged closer, pressing hard against my back, as if he was branding my skin with his firm hand.

It was becoming clearer he was determined to take possession of me. My head swirled at the thought. There were a whole lot worse fates than surrendering my body to a virile, gorgeous man, unless, of course, my heart was already pledged to someone else.

As loud, head-banging music filtered in from the speakers above, filling my brain with a noisy fog, and swirls of smoke and dust swam before my vision, I realized that margarita sure packed a punch.

And then Sarge went and handed me another. I suspected his motive behind the free drinks was to increase his chances of getting laid. Had I not already met Grim first, his ploy might have worked. Who was I kidding? Despite Sarge’s relentless torture this past week, I would have mounted that stud in a heartbeat, fucking his hard body like a rabbit on crack.

“Thanks, Sarge.” I nodded to him as I stirred the strawberry swirls with my straw.

“Santiago.” He flashed a wicked smile that nearly made me want to spread my legs right then and there. “I’m only Sarge when we’re at work, and you don’t need to thank me,” he said as those warm fingers of his worked their massage magic on my back. “I should be thanking you.”

My eyelids involuntarily shut for the briefest heartbeat. His touch soothed my tight, sore muscles. “For what?” I murmured.

He snaked his arm possessively around my waist, the heat of his body melting me from the inside out. “For proving me wrong. I didn’t think you’d survive this week. I’m glad you did.”

“Me, too.” I tried to pull away from him, but I ended up turning into his embrace. As I looked into his molten gaze, the alarm bells in my head started ringing. A bright neon light pulsated beyond his shoulder. I shook my dizzy head. I almost thought it was flashing, “Run away! Run away!”

But then I saw something that made my heart pump double-time. I struggled out of Sarge’s grip and slowly stood, gawking at a group of men gathered around the pool table. They had this look about them that suggested they could have been Grims. Maybe it was their dark scowls, broad shoulders, and beefy arms. Could have been that two of them clutched tall, gleaming scythes in their meaty hands. I watched with curiosity as one of the Grims hit a button on his scythe and the entire blade retracted into a compact square no bigger than a cellphone. He slipped it into his pocket before downing a bottle of beer.

Oh, that’s how they do it.

A tremor wracked me, not just because those dudes sure as hell looked badass, but because one of the men who had his broad back to me reminded me of my Grim. My heart sighed when he turned around, revealing a prominent nose, a ragged scar down the left side of his face, and a cold gleam in his eyes. He was not my Grim. Not at all.

Damn.

“He’s not here.”

“Who?” I feigned innocence while biting my lower lip.

“He walked out on you, Ash.” Sarge’s eyes brewed with dark clouds as he rose and cupped my shoulders in a tight grip. “You need to move on.”

I forced myself to look into his unwavering gaze. But it wasn’t Sarge my heart was seeing. My mind misted with memories of Grim. He’d made a vow to me that my afterlife would be better than the life I’d left behind. He’d made a vow and then broke it the day he walked out, because without Grim by my side, my heart was completely and utterly broken.

Jack and I had just come from an invigorating morning jog (yes, I know I should be committed for using invigorating and jog in the same sentence) when I found Sarge sulking on my bed, just like he’d sulked last night after we’d come home, and just like he’d sulked during breakfast.

Well, I’d about had enough of his moods. It wasn’t my fault my heart was pledged to another, and I refused to spread my legs like his subservient whore, no matter how horny he made me.

Just as I was about to tell the grouch to go crawl back inside his trash can, he looked at me with brows drawn in a tight V.

“You got company,” he grumbled, “waiting in the common room.”

“Company!” I gasped, and then I was flying out the door without giving him a second glance. It had to be Grim. Hopefully he’d missed me as much as I missed him, and he was willing to work things out. Hopefully. I was nearly out of breath by the time I reached the common room, Jack barking at my heels.

My heart lurched for a split second when I saw my grandma and uncle sitting on our threadbare sofa. I shook off my disappointment as I walked into Grandma’s open arms.

“There you are! We’ve been worried sick about you.” She clucked her tongue before turning up the dial on her guilt-o-meter to full blast. “Thank goodness you’re still alive.”

“I’m fine, Grandma.” I rasped as she squeezed me so tight, I feared our tits would pop like air bags in a head-on collision.

She pulled back, scowling as she looked me up and down. “You could have left a forwarding address. Good thing that nice neighbor of yours was home or we wouldn’t have known where to find you.”

“Oh, you mean Inés?” She couldn’t have been talking about Grim. Maybe if she’d substituted “grumpy” or “scowling” for “nice.” I briefly wondered if they’d even come across him, and if so, if he’d said anything about me. Anything at all.

“Yeah.” Grandma nodded vigorously before turning to my uncle. “She gave us something for you.”

Uncle Mikey stood and kissed me on the cheek before handing me a big purple box with a bright yellow bow on top.

“What is it?” I asked as I shook it. Something heavy rattled inside.

“She didn’t say,” Uncle Mikey said. “Open it.”

I cringed and then handed the box back to my uncle. “I’m afraid to.”

My uncle shoved the box back into my hands. “Just open it.”

I carefully pulled back the lid, and then screamed and threw the box to the ground.

A blow-dryer! She sent me a freaking blow-dryer!

A little yellow slip of paper floated out of the box, landing on my foot. I picked it up with trembling hands and unfolded it, gulping back a knot of fear as I read the message scrawled in dainty pink ink. “I told you not to break his heart. Get ready for some whoop ass.”

I knew I should have been upset. Inés was no small
chica
. I was certain she could have flattened me like a pancake with one pounding of her fist. So why did her threat make me giddy instead? Grim’s heart was broken, which meant he did care about me, maybe he even cared about me still. I still had a chance to win him back.

I wasn’t quite sure how time-off worked at the SIA, but since Delta Squadron had just completed a ghosting last night, Sarge said we had the rest of the day off. I so badly wanted to use that time to go to Grim’s apartment, even if I risked the chance of getting my ass whooped, but my grandma and my uncle had other ideas, starting with bringing Jack to meet my grandpa. My grandma was insistent, since Grandpa had been fond of Jack back on level one.

So that’s how I spent the rest of my day, wondering about Grim while my dog played fetch with my grandpa. I had to admit, the look on Grandpa’s face when we’d first showed up with Jack made it all worthwhile.

Too bad Grandpa turned into a blubbering sob-monster when it was time to go, not that he’d miss us, but that I wouldn’t leave Jack with him in his crappy level ten trailer. As much as I hated to hurt my grandpa’s feelings, that place wasn’t even fit for a dog.