Slipping the Past (3 page)

She brushed her hair over one shoulder and smiled up into his face. “I’m not a deity. My name is Jocasta.” The parade of soldiers continued through the street, cheers raining down around them.

“As lovely as the woman.”

“I know you,” the reaper said, drawing his brows together and pulling her back to the present. His hand moved from her face and toyed with her hair, letting the strands slip through his fingers. “Like blood, but darker. It’s always been red, except that one time.” He lifted it and sniffed. “Smells like sanitizer.”

“Bathroom soap dispensers will do that.” She half-laughed, half-choked, as her heart threatened to explode. The closer he got, the faster it beat and the more she wanted to touch him. No—not wanted—needed. Jocelyn curled her fingers, resisting the urge. What was wrong with her?

She felt a tug on her energy. Her aura mingled with his and warmed. Deep pinks swirled into his blues and oranges. The cobalt light in his eyes faded and revealed the true color. They were…. “Like honey in candlelight.” Those eyes.
My God
.

“What?” he asked, drawing his brows together.

“Nothing.” But it wasn’t
nothing
. Everything came into focus. He was right about knowing her. They’d been linked for more than one lifetime and would continue to be if he didn’t imprison her for the past crimes.

He tucked his staff away, studying her face, keeping eye contact. “You’re a criminal.” The tone of his voice said he wasn’t convinced. Perhaps she had a chance?

“That isn’t who I am.”

“Then who are you, Jocelyn Miller?”

“I….” She stared back, sinking into those topaz depths. “I’m innocent. Give me a chance to prove it.” She knew in her heart the truth. She was no more a killer than her brother. A single tear trickled down her cheek. “Please.”

He was also wrong about one other thing. It was more than
knowing
. Reaching up with a shaky hand, she touched his jaw. The prickly growth of a day’s worth of whiskers grazed the pads of her fingers.
Much more
.

“I loved you once,” Jocelyn said.

He captured her hand and held it against his face, staring back. Before she could blink, he leaned in and grazed her lips with his. Sparks of energy whirled around them. Jocelyn sighed against the light kiss, wanting more, needing more.

Gabriel slid the fingers of one hand into her hair and captured her mouth to intensify the kiss. The breath sucked from her lungs, and her knees gave.

He released her hand and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her tight to his body while his lips devoured her every sane thought.
No. It can’t be
.

She still loved him.

He released her from the wall and backed away, pointing at her chest. “I’ll give you a week to prove your innocence.”

That kiss had been more than a kiss. Did he know? Did he feel their connection? “You’re letting me go?”

He shook his head and frowned. “No. I’m delaying the inevitable. Damned if I know why.” As the last word left his lips, Gabriel disappeared, teleporting away to who knew where. In the dim light, another form took shape, holding a baseball bat and starting to descend toward her.

Jocelyn screamed. “Nate, no!” She threw her arm up to block the bat headed for her head.

He stopped the swing of the Louisville Slugger inches from her face and lowered it. “What? Where’d he go?”

No longer able to stand—some from shock, mostly from the kiss sapping her strength and turning her into a noodle—she slid down the wall to her butt. “He’s giving me a chance to prove my innocence.”

“Reapers don’t let their quarry go, Jocelyn.” Nate ran a hand through his hair. “Did I see right? Did you kiss that reaper?”

She nodded.

“Have you lost your freaking mind?”

“It appears I have.” Jocelyn began to giggle as all the stress from the confrontation dropped on her.

The solar lamps overhead popped on and she slammed her eyes shut, covering them with her hand. “My glasses.”

Nate stuffed them into her fingers. She slipped them into place and jumped into Nate, using his vision to survey the area. Red and blue lights flashed in the distance. “We need to leave.”

“I think I’ll keep this.” He hefted the bat over his shoulder. “You never know when one of these will come in handy.”

“Handy? You almost brained me. More like dangerous.”

“Speaking of dangerous—you’re getting stronger, Joce. I’ve never seen you jump like that, not as you did with the clerk. You controlled him.” Nate glanced both ways and rushed her down the street.

“Desperation. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

Jocelyn nodded. “I know. But I’d be alone without you. You’re all I’ve got.”

Or was he? Gabriel
. He’d done something to her. She felt normal. The dizziness had disappeared with him. Even more amazing, she wasn’t exhausted from the jump. Whenever she traveled for more than visual leaps, it left her without energy or strength to do more than sleep. “I think the reaper did something to me.”

Nate stiffened under her hand. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, not that. I think he gave me energy.”

“Why would he do that?” Nate ducked into an alley and pulled her in with him, pressing back against the wall as squad transporters raced by.

“I don’t know, but he did.”

“Whatever that reaper did, he didn’t do it for you. They never do anything for their target’s benefit.” Nate grasped her under the chin. Look at yourself. You don’t look any different.”

Jocelyn pushed his hand away. “I don’t need to look at myself. I feel it.”

“How long before it’s done?” The woman adjusted the communicator at her ear. A streetlight flickered. She glanced around and tucked her purse under her arm. “Oh, no. You promised it would be done today. I’ve spent a ton of credit on these repairs. Now I’m walking home again, from work at”—she glanced at her watch—“eleven?”

Ian leaned against the side of the building, blending with the shadows as she approached. He could see her lovely red hair, even in the dim light. She’d left the strip club fifteen minutes before, making her way down the block. The stiletto boots she wore wouldn’t make her much of a challenge to catch, but at least he could have a little fun.

He eyed her, taking in her shape, her height, and measuring her against another. The woman was tall and leggy, a real beauty, but not as pretty as his Jo.

The stripper stopped. “No, goddamn it. I want a rental. I want someone here—now, to pick me up, and I want a transporter delivered to my address by morning. Oh, I know you didn’t just do that. Sonofabitch. You can’t hang up on me.”

Ian pointed at the light and it spluttered and died.

“Gwen….” He whispered her name, letting it carry across the darkened street.

The woman lifted her gaze from the communicator and surveyed the area around her. “Hello?” She snapped the device shut and shifted her purse, moving under the next light and unknowingly coming closer. “Is someone there?”

Ian pointed at another light on the opposite side of her. It hummed and snapped off, leaving the woman standing as though she were under a spotlight. She huddled under the beams as if they could protect her.

She spun around. “I’m calling the Enforcers.” She lifted her communicator and made a point of showing him as she dialed.

Ian smiled.
They’re already here, doll
. She had spunk, but that wouldn’t save her. He focused on the device. It buzzed and popped. The woman smacked the side of the com and tried to dial again.

With a cry of frustration, she dropped it in her purse and began to hustle down the street. She stumbled and grabbed the pole of another street lamp to catch her balance. Her chest rose and fell and her coat came open, showing off the skimpy top that accentuated her cleavage.

“Where you going, Gwen?” He teleported in front of her, making sure to stay in the shadows where he remained cloaked.
Tasty
. Ian smiled and absorbed the energy from her fear.

The woman backed up. “This isn’t funny. How do you know my name? Stalking is illegal.”

“Is it?” He stepped under the light, letting her get a good look. And look she did, from the top of his head to his feet. At just over six-foot-eight, he always made quite the first impression.

“Oh shit.” She swallowed and tugged her coat shut. Her eyes took on a glassy sheen.
Tears? Anger?
Both were equally intoxicating. “I haven’t done anything illegal.” She shook her head and began to quiver.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can’t lie to me. You’re guilty of something.” Ian cocked his head and crossed his arms. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a neighborhood like this?” He returned the favor, letting his gaze ride her from head to toe, taking his time while she squirmed. “Dressed in so little?” He’d known her life story from the moment she’d opened her mouth, but it was fun to play with his girls a bit.

Her heart sped up.
Ah, yes, I noticed
.

“I have rights. The way I’m dressed doesn’t give you a reason to detain me. Do you have a warrant?”

Damn, he loved the torch-tops. “I do, now. You shouldn’t have opened your mouth.” He shifted closer, now only a couple of feet from her. “Been out partying, doll?”

Her eyes popped wide. The artery in her neck pulsed from her violently accelerating heart. He eyed it and smiled.
Almost there
. “It was only a little recreational drug. I didn’t hurt anyone.”

Ian tsked and shook his head, stepping to within inches of her, holding her locked in his gaze.
Thrum, thrum, thr
…. The drum roll quickened. He could practically taste the adrenaline racing through her body. “It doesn’t negate the fact it’s illegal.”

“What do you want?” She licked her lips. “Let me go and I’ll give you anything.”

The thought he might take her up on her offer scared the piss out of her. Enticing, but not what he wanted.

He reached out and touched her hair, lifting a strand. Her fear spiked. He closed his eyes and inhaled.
Perfect
. “I thought you’d never ask.”

***

Gabriel pulled his glove free and touched his lips. They still tingled. He’d never kissed his target before, never wanted to touch evil, and never did unless he moved to make a capture.

Not only had he touched her, he’d shared some of his life energy and let her go. As an Enforcer, a manipulator of the spirit world and all that manifested from it, he should never contemplate, even for a second, helping someone he chased. Yet the need to protect her seemed instinctive and that disturbed him.

She’d knocked his world off kilter with her freaky eyes and words. She’d seemed to see through him, read him. Nobody read him or even attempted to hold his gaze. Jocelyn Miller was different. Everything about her opposed him, excited him, and stirred up feelings he didn’t know he possessed.

I loved you once
.

In a heartbeat, she’d disarmed him. Gabriel had nearly dropped to his knees and wept when she’d said those words. No one loved him. Most stayed outside his perimeter. Not only had she entered his space, she’d mingled with his energy, touched his face. A woman who should have been terrified, had every reason to be, had reached out and touched him. Then, she’d said it.

So he’d kissed her. He’d leaned in with one driving thought, one need—to get closer. It wasn’t her beauty that lured him, but something else. Something deeper than flesh or bone, something he couldn’t pinpoint. She’d made his body quicken with voracious need.

For the first time, he didn’t want to make a capture. He wanted to fuck. He’d wanted to push her against the wall, strip her clothing away, and taste her body the way he’d savored her lips. Drive into her, again and again, until she screamed his name.

From the moment he’d rested his gaze on her, he’d wanted to wrap his arms around her and show her to whom she belonged. Brand her, mark her, make her his. She made every inch of his flesh crave her touch. Even now, he could barely take the loss of contact.

When he’d approached her and brushed her aura, he’d seen the reason for her light-blindness. He’d seen the rape, the torture, felt the pokers to her eyes as if they’d been his own. Gabriel had tried to pull the past-life injury from her, but it wouldn’t leave. It seemed a part of her, a lingering curse. Leaving her incapable of seeing, when he should have been able to correct the energy balance that caused it—should have been able to erase the scar those vile rapists had left on her soul—angered him. She should be perfect.

She was his.

No
.

He couldn’t change who he was any more than she could. Could she get the evidence? He wanted her to, needed her to. Her energy conflicted with the charges against her. Everything she said seemed to carry truth. Never before had that happened. He’d never questioned if a fugitive was guilty. There had never been a reason to doubt. Their energy never lied. This one, for reasons beyond his comprehension, he’d promised a week. She hadn’t manipulated him. That was impossible, without jumping into his body. He’d willingly given her the chance. Amnesty wasn’t his to grant, and he had no clue why he hadn’t taken her soul when she’d stood in front of him.

She’d get her week, and then he’d finish this. He’d no choice. The department had documented her crimes and issued a warrant. He’d taken an oath, sworn to uphold all laws, spiritual and temporal. But when they found out he’d missed his mark, failed to make the capture, they’d send another and he’d pay for his hesitation. He’d better have a good reason why.

He didn’t.

She’d pled, and he’d listened. Not a good reason at all. He’d gone against regulations and set her free, putting his position, freedom, and soul in jeopardy. For what? Even he couldn’t wrap his reasoning around that. How could he explain his actions? Too late to change what he’d done, he could only move forward. He strode to a screen that hung in his office and touched it. A face appeared before him.