Grave Attraction (12 page)

“Yeah, one of us will be here.” Her gaze flicked briefly to Samuel before returning to Adam. “Good luck.”

She was halfway to the door when Samuel asked, “Does he know, Mrs. Stavitsky?”

Gwen froze in her tracks and twisted her neck in his direction. “Does who know what?”

“You know damn well what I'm talking about.” He smirked. “Considering his past, it's inconsiderate not to inform him.”

Gwen's mouth dropped open. “How do you—”

“It's rather evident, once you notice the signs.” His smirk widened.

Outrage registered on her pale face, and her hands balled into fists. Her voice dropped down to a snarl when she said, “Stay the hell out of our business.”

“I'm just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, we've had enough of your help.” Her eyes hardened to stone, and for a few seconds she looked like she was about to go Hulk on him. “Keep sticking your nose where it doesn't belong and I'll break it.”

Without another word, Gwen stalked out the front door and slammed it behind her.

Adam stared at Samuel, not speaking a word until he heard Gwen's car roar to life. “What the hell was that all about?”

Samuel arched a brow. “You heard the woman,” he said with his usual drollness. “If I tell you, she'll break my nose.”

“Fine, whatever.” He was really getting tired of people keeping him in the dark. With a huff, he scrolled through his list of contacts until he located Cassie's number. The call went straight to voice mail, so he left a message telling her the potion hadn't worked and asking if she could create something stronger.

After stuffing his phone back into his pocket, he opened the sliding glass door and Buford shot outside. While the dog did his business, Adam crossed to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He wanted a beer, and he wanted some food, and then he wanted the next twenty-four hours to fly by so he could see Marlena again.

“H
ow much longer do we have to wait?” Samuel asked from his seat in the waiting room of the Ford dealership.

Today he was dressed in the clothes Adam had bought for him at Walmart. Personally, Adam thought the jeans were too tight, but he'd seen more than one woman check Samuel out, so it couldn't be that bad a fit.

A half dozen or so people also sat in the room, most of them either watching television or messing around with their phones. Every so often, one of them would approach the service desk and check on the status of their vehicle. But instead of waiting for his truck to be repaired, Adam and Samuel were there to harvest a soul.

The pulse of mortality split the air, subtle yet strong enough to make its presence known. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before death claimed another victim.

Adam glanced down and checked the time. “Five minutes, give or take,” he told Samuel. Which meant four more hours until he saw Marlena again. For him, it seemed like an eternity. “You want more coffee?”

The noise Samuel made said exactly what he thought of the suggestion. Not that he blamed him. The dealership coffee tasted like sludge. With his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, Samuel picked up an old copy of
Muscle & Fitness
and began riffling through the pages.

Adam walked to the front window and peered outside, searching for his latest client. Most of the activity was in the garage bays, where mechanics worked under a half dozen vehicles hoisted up on hydraulic lifts. He slid on his sunglasses, opened the door, and was hit with a blast of heat and humidity.

“Something I can help you with, sir?” asked a guy wearing a dealership uniform.

“No, just checking to see if my truck's ready.” Adam inserted a mental suggestion for the employee to move on and was pleased when the man complied. He stepped closer to the bays, ignoring the heavy smells of grease and gasoline. To his right, three men peered up at the undercarriage of an SUV, debating if they needed to remove the crankshaft in order to replace the tank's fuel pump.

As Adam walked, the pulse of death grew stronger, more insistent, until it practically buzzed in his blood. A life was about to be cut short, but he had no idea which one. There had to be at least twenty people in the area, making it difficult to pin down his target.

Suddenly, someone shouted, and then there was a loud crashing noise. Following the sound, Adam saw men running toward the third bay on the right. A pickup truck had fallen off the hydraulic lift and hit the concrete below.

It also hit one of the mechanics working on the vehicle. His lower body was sticking out from under the truck, a pool of blood forming around his hips.

“Call nine-one-one!” an older man shouted, while three others tried jacking up the truck.

Judging by the looks on their faces, they must have known it was an exercise in futility. Adam inched closer but stayed away from the action, preferring to remain unnoticed while he completed his job. With his mind, he breached the dead man's corpse, severing the connection between body and spirit and harvesting the wayward soul. The spirit's thoughts assaulted his senses, and it took Adam almost a full minute to fully block them out.

For Adam, this was the part he hated most. It sucked to witness death and feel the emotions of the deceased. But even worse, it made him wonder about those left behind.

How would they cope? Would they ever move on?

Inevitably, he thought about his own mortal death and the friends and family he'd never see again. Their faces flashed through his mind—mother, father, sisters, brothers, friends, coworkers, and most important, the little girl who'd grow up without her father. The last time he checked, Kaitlyn's mother had married an accountant. It relieved him to know his daughter was loved and well cared for, but the thought of another man raising his child never failed to make his heart ache.

For more than a year Adam had worked undercover, gathering evidence to bring down Johnny Salvatore's criminal empire. The sick fuck specialized in human trafficking, victimizing scores of women and children without a trace of remorse. After the grand jury handed down the indictment, Adam had led the raid on Salvatore's main base of operations on the south side of Chicago.

Once inside, he'd found Salvatore in one of the back rooms with a six-year-old girl. The pain in her eyes.
All that blood.
Rage had overridden years of police training; Adam had raised his pistol and took aim, killing Salvatore and three of his bodyguards before a fourth put an end to Adam's life. And while he deeply regretted losing his humanity, he found comfort in knowing that Johnny Salvatore would never hurt anyone else.

Adam blew out a heavy exhale and forced the unpleasant memories from his mind. Without looking back, he walked away from the scene, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. More employees were rushing to the site of the accident, and Adam needed to make himself scarce before somebody started asking questions. When he reached the main building, he yanked the door open and stepped back inside the waiting area.

“Do you know what's going on out there?” a middle-aged woman asked.

“Accident in one of the bays.” He took off his sunglasses and hung them from the collar of his shirt. “Anyone own a black F-150?”

“I do,” said a burly man sitting next to Samuel. He bolted up from his seat. “Why, what happened?”

The sound of sirens filled the air as a police car, fire engine, and paramedic truck barreled into the dealership and sped toward the service bays. Curious, the people in the waiting room rushed outside, leaving Adam and Samuel alone.

Samuel set the magazine aside and rose from his seat. He gave Adam a long, appraising look, an unreadable expression on his face. “Are you all right? You seem out of sorts.”

No, he wasn't all right. He couldn't stop thinking about the daughter he'd never see again. He'd never see her grow up, go to college, get married, have a career, or have children of her own. A stranger had already taken his place, and there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it.

“I'm fine. Let's get the hell out of here.”

 

Marlena turned in a slow circle in front of the full-length mirror. “How do I look?” she asked Cassie. “Too casual?”

Honestly, she couldn't remember the last time she'd gone on an actual date. It must have been back when Reagan was in office. If she remembered correctly, the guy had taken her to dinner and a movie. What was his name? Richard? Roger? Honestly, she couldn't remember. The jerk—whoever he was—had tried to force himself on her after the movie, not taking no for an answer until she kneed him in the nuts.

She didn't have much in the way of dressy clothes, but thankfully, Antonella was about the same size and had given permission to raid her immense walk-in closet. So far, she'd tried on six different outfits, and her patience was starting to wear thin.

Cassie tapped one finger against her lips as she looked over the latest ensemble. “The skirt looks nice, but I think you need a different blouse.”

“Yeah,” Antonella agreed, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. “Something with a little more oomph.”

“What do you mean, oomph?” Marlena asked. “What constitutes oomph?”

The women ignored her as they searched through the racks in the closet.

“Here, try this,” Antonella said, handing her a sleeveless ivory blouse.

Quickly, Marlena switched shirts and checked how she looked in the mirror. She said, “Oh, no,” at the same time Antonella and Cassie said, “Oh, yes.”

“Really? But it dips so low.”

“That's what makes it so perfect.” Grinning, Cassie stepped behind her and studied their dual reflections in the mirror. “You're beautiful, Marley. It's about time you showed it off.”

Marlena let out a huff. She did a little half turn to see how she looked from behind. Not bad, if she said so herself. She might not have a lot up top, but she made up for it in the rear. “The villagers back home would have stoned me for wearing something this revealing.” Then again, they'd ended up burning her at the stake, so who cared about what they would have thought?

Cassie's grin widened to a smile. “Your reaper's jaw is going to hit the floor when he gets a load of this outfit.”

“And that's a good thing?”

Antonella nodded. “That's definitely a very good thing.”

Downstairs, the doorbell rang.

“Sounds like he's here.” Cassie winked as she started toward the stairs. “I'll keep him busy while Antonella does your hair and makeup.”

“Makeup? I never agreed to makeup.” She'd been a good sport about letting them dress her like an oversized Barbie doll, but she drew the line at painting her face with a bunch of cosmetics. She'd tried it once, many years ago, and didn't like the feel of it on her skin.

Antonella motioned to the seat in front of the vanity. “Come on, sit down. I promise not to put too much on you.”

Marlena eyed the chair as if it were alive. “Promise?”

“Promise. And if you don't like it, I'll let you wash it off.”

With a sigh, Marlena took a seat and folded her hands in her lap. She heard the faint sound of the front door opening, followed by muffled conversation. Try as she might, she couldn't make out the words, but the tone seemed light and she heard Cassie laugh. She fidgeted in her seat, eager to see Adam but nervous about how the evening was going to play out.

“Relax, you're going to look great,” Antonella said as she finger-combed a glob of clear gel into Marlena's hair. The young witch picked up a large round brush and turned on the hair dryer, drowning out any further objections. When she finished a short time later, Marlena's blond hair looked shiny and fell past her shoulders in choppy waves.

She had to admit, it looked pretty, fancy but not so fancy she'd mess it up if she ran her fingers through it.

“What do you think?” Antonella asked.

“I love it.” But the warm fuzzy feeling turned to dread when Antonella opened a giant makeup case. “Oh, come on, do we have to?”

For the life of her, she couldn't understand why the witch owned that much makeup. With her smooth olive skin and classic Italian features, she was drop-dead gorgeous even when she was sick with the flu.

“Yes, we do. A deal's a deal.” Antonella chuckled. “Relax, I won't make you look like a hooker. I'll just put on enough to highlight your best features.”

“Okay.” Still, it took almost every ounce of her self-control to keep from bolting out of the seat. With her body turned away from the mirror, she couldn't see what Antonella was doing. What took a few minutes felt like hours, until the young witch set down the mascara wand and said, “See, that wasn't so bad.”

Fearing the worst, Marlena twisted in her seat to check the results of the young witch's handiwork. It looked like she barely had anything on, just a light foundation, mascara, lip gloss, and a natural eye shadow that brought out the color in her eyes.

“Do you like it?” Antonella asked.

She nodded. “I think I owe you one.” She met the witch's gaze in the mirror. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Now get your butt downstairs before Cassie steals your date.”

After slipping on a pair of tan dressy sandals, Marlena hurried out of the room. She followed the sound of Adam's deep voice and found him and Cassie sitting in the living room. The cat was sprawled across Cassie's lap, while Adam had made himself comfortable on one of the leather recliners.

As usual, he looked incredible. He wore a dark red shirt over black denim jeans that fit him in all the right places. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, and she couldn't help but wonder how it would feel against her thighs. They both looked up at the sound of her footsteps, and all conversation stopped.

“Didn't I tell you?” Cassie smiled.

Adam nodded, his gaze moving up and down Marlena's body and pausing at the show of cleavage. “Definitely worth the wait.”

He stood and walked toward her. Taking her hand, he pressed a kiss against the backs of her knuckles. The feel of his lips against her skin sent tingling warmth up her arm. Then his eyes met hers and everything inside her clenched.

“Hungry?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“Starving.” When she licked her lips, his eyes darkened with lust. Electricity arced in the air between them, and for a moment she forgot how to breathe.

Cassie coughed, breaking the tension. “I'll leave the porch light on,” she said, the smile on her face reaching her eyes. “You two have fun tonight.”

“Thanks, Cassie,” Adam replied, his focus still riveted on Marlena. One corner of his mouth tilted up in a sexy grin. “We better get going. The restaurant is clear across town and our reservation is for six.”

The Polish restaurant was located in a strip mall between a dry cleaner and a computer repair shop. Inside, the place had a cozy feel. The décor was kitschy, but in a good way, with plush burgundy seats, vintage-style pendant lights, and dozens of pictures of Poland and its people in a variety of mismatched frames. The waitress, a sweet-looking older woman with a puff of white hair framing her face, greeted them at the door and led them to a table by the window.