Hear No (Hidden Evil, #1) (15 page)

“Do you know how long it’ll take me to find a functioning eight track player at a yard sale?”

“We’ve got time. If it’s more than on eBay, don’t buy it.”

“I’ll look,” Nathan said. If nothing else, it was an even exchange: Pedro’s information for an eight-track player.

“Something is bothering you, Nathan,” Pedro said wisely. “What is it?”

“Aside from you asking me to go to yard sales when Shadowman is hunting down an innocent first gen so he can open the portal to Hell?” Nathan asked. “Nothing.”

“You are worried. It’s not normal for you. You are normally very sure of yourself.”

Born during the Roman Empire, Nathan retained the unfaltering confidence and physical prowess of the warrior race that bred him. He also had the emotional depths and temper of a Scorpio who never backed down from a challenge and the patience of a man who had lived one too many lifetimes. There were days when it took all of this to keep him from snapping when he dealt with Pedro.

“Yeah, well, got a lot on my mind,” Nathan said. “By the way, Pedro. What comes out of the portal if it does get opened?”

Pedro’s gaze saddened. “Death,” he whispered.

Nathan had never seen the head of the guardian angel corps distraught. Uncertain how to respond, he changed the subject.

“I called in a favor to Troy, too.”

“I told him he has much good to do in this world yet.”

Of course. It’s always about the greater good. Never about us.
Nathan rose.

“Here are some yard sales.” Pedro held out a newspaper, folded to display the classified ads. He’d gone to the trouble of circling two ads in yellow.

Nathan took it. “This is for Tucson, five years ago.” He’d long since stopped getting angry with the angels who were trying to relate to him in a human way. They meant well, even if they drove him crazy at times. “Pedro, one of these is at my house. I know I’m not having a yard sale.”

“I have faith. Maybe you will and someone brings you my eight track player. Or maybe the other address will have one,” Pedro suggested. “You know the way of the universe. If you ask for something or need something, eventually it comes to you.”

“It’s never quite that easy. I’ll let you know when I find your treasure.” Nathan pocketed the newspaper.

“It was good to see you, Nathan.”

“You, too, Pedro.”

Nathan left Pedro’s office and the building, reemerging into the mortal world.

He sighed on his way to the car. Accustomed to the bizarre exchanges, he still left each interaction with Pedro wishing for a little more effort on the angel’s part.

In any case, he now had a back-up plan. It still involved killing Kaylee, but at least it wasn’t going to be permanent. He’d do whatever it took to convince Maggy to do things his way.

Maybe, by the end of the day tomorrow, the issue of Shadowman would be resolved.

Chapter Thirteen

Amira explored the caveman’s house twice, more puzzled as she did so. There was a general trail through the house indicating where the spirit guide routinely went. Front door, kitchen, upstairs. The rest of the house was covered in dust, from the wooden floors to the windowsills and every other open surface. She followed her own footprints through the formal living and dining rooms for a second time.

The house had been professionally decorated. It was too stylish and comfortable for the barbaric man upstairs to have done himself. His room was trashed, his floor covered with more bottles of alcohol than the formal bar contained. Moonstones lined every windowsill and hovered around every doorway, a sign the spirit guide had the sense to protect his home, even if he appeared to be surviving off alcohol alone.

She returned to the kitchen again. Her nose wrinkled when she opened the fridge. Small containers of delivery and fast food smelled way too old for her to consider eating. The pantry was mostly empty, aside from cracker boxes and cans of liquid cheese.

“Ewww!” she muttered.

She was hungry, but there was nothing in the house that was remotely edible.

Why did Nathan leave her here? Yes, she’d heard of Troy, who, like Nathan, was a legend among angels and spirit guides alike. But she’s also heard that Troy was fired.

Of course, if that was true, he’d be dead, based on the lack of food in the house.

She closed the pantry door and stood in the middle of his kitchen, thoughtful. She wanted to know more about the stranger she was supposed to trust. She went back to the front door and traced his steps.

“Keys.” She pretended to dump her keys in the bowl on top of the sofa table near the door. “Wallet?” Sifting through the bowl, she didn’t see his wallet. She walked by the open door of the formal living room then paused and stepped back. There were a few footprints into this room that weren’t hers, leading to a chaise.

She went to it and saw his wallet sprawled on a cushion, as if it had been tossed there and forgotten. Picking it up, Amira opened it and sifted through it.

One debit card and cash. Nothing else.

Disappointed, she replaced it on the chaise, not at all certain why his wallet was so far from his keys or anything else. Nothing about the man made sense.

Turning, she jumped.

Troy stood in the doorway, arms crossed and dark gaze penetrating. She didn’t recognize him at first without the bushy beard and hair. He’d clipped his facial hair down to a goatee, and his hair was slicked back. He hadn’t seemed nearly this big or imposing when he was slung drunk across his bed.

Where Nathan was lean, Troy was thick and muscular, standing a head taller than her, which was no easy feat given she was right at six feet tall. There was no sign of the caveman in the man before her, and she could believe the legends about his unmatched strength.

He spoke, and she read his lips.

“Why are you going through my wallet?” he asked. It was one of those times when she wished she could hear his tone. Was he angry? From his stance, he wasn’t happy, but she didn’t know where he was on the spectrum from irritated to infuriated.

“I’m curious,” she replied honestly.

His eyes narrowed.

“My name is Amira,” she said somewhat nervously. She took a few steps and held out her hand. “I’m deaf, but I can read lips, so don’t talk to me if I’m not looking.”

For a moment, he was still, studying her. Finally, he responded. “Troy. Don’t talk to me before nine in the morning, and we’ll get along fine.”

“Okay. Nice to meet you, Troy.” She smiled and shook his hand. His was large, thick and strong, his grip firm. “Why don’t you have any real food?”

“I’ve been trying to kill myself, but it’s not working.”

She gasped, searching his gaze. “No, Troy! Life is sacred! You should view yours as a blessing.”

“Damn first gen.” He rolled his eyes and walked away.

Was he still talking to her? She trailed, hoping not. Troubled by his confession, Amira looked at her surroundings with a new perspective.

He had a beautiful house and a big truck, the means to keep buying high-end booze, and a job helping others.

What made him suicidal?

Her heart ached for him without even knowing why he felt so desolate. Maybe Nathan hadn’t just dropped her off here to protect her. Maybe she was meant to help Troy. If Pedro wasn’t going to let him retire, it meant he had a future doing good. She understood that spirits guides were very different from angels, but they still fought for the greater good, just in a different way.

Except for those who killed her mentor.

Amira stopped in place, the pang of heartache at the memory returning. How could people like Troy and Nathan lose their ways to the point they’d turn on their own?

Why were they after her? She understood what Shadowman wanted.

The subtle shift of the floorboards beneath her indicated Troy was drawing near.

She faced him, trying to push away her concern, but unable to dispel her worry and confusion.

He waved to get her attention.

“Who’s following you?” he asked.

She stared at him, surprised.

“Nathan called in a favor, which means he thinks you’re in the kind of danger only I can handle. So, who’s following you?”

She didn’t speak, not wanting to reveal what she was sworn to protect.

Troy closed the distance between them. She gazed up at him, silently stressing.

“Beautiful girl giving me that look – that shit won’t work on me,” he told her. “Answer my questions, or leave.”

Beautiful girl.
Her brow furrowed. Most people she met focused on her disability rather than her face. Did he really think she was pretty? Maybe he hadn’t heard her say she was deaf?

Was it possible it didn’t matter to him? Amira was quiet for a moment. He wasn’t giving her the odd look – the one laced with pity that people gave her when they first met her. She’d grown accustomed to it and chose to overlook it, instead focusing on their uncertain smiles rather than the emotion in their eyes.

There was neither with Troy. He didn’t seem like the kind who smiled at all, but neither was he pitying her. What was he thinking?

He smelled clean, of cologne and deodorant, his warmth filling the space between them. Spirit guides radiated heat; it was a side effect of the energy they naturally channeled from the Other Side and the angels and humans around them.

There was something about him that left her feeling rattled. Safe but … self-conscious. She didn’t recall this feeling with her last spirit guide, Scott. What was it about Troy that made her blood race?

“Shadowman,” she replied. “Fallen guardian.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why is he after you?” His gaze swept over her slowly in a way that made her feel more nervous. “You’re a first gen.”

“I can’t tell you.” Amira shifted away from him.

“Then out you go.” He pointed towards the door.

She crossed her arms, sensing he was serious. He was a lot like Nathan in that regard – unyielding. Amira turned away and plodded to the door. She opened it and exited into the warm fall day, silently praying that Troy had some capacity for sympathy, even if he was no longer interested in being a guide or alive.

She walked down the stairs and past his truck.

She’d never felt scared of simply walking alone before, but since Scott’s death, she hadn’t had a moment where she didn’t sense someone watching her. The mental health center was a temporary reprieve and now, she had nowhere to go.

“God, Pedro, angels. I need a little help, please,” she said to the sky. “Thank you.”

Amira looked around, expecting to see Shadowman following.

He wasn’t, but she’d be hard pressed to hear him, if he snuck up behind her.

Hugging herself, she walked down the long driveway towards the road. She wanted to enjoy the beautiful fall day, the leaves that had turned brilliant shades of gold, maroon and pumpkin. It was hard to admire them, when she couldn’t help wondering if this was the last time she’d ever see them. If those following her didn’t get her, she still had to prevent them from getting her stones – or those of the others.

She reached the end of the driveway and paused, looking both ways.

She’d never felt so alone. Scott helped raised her and had always been there for her like a big brother. Now, there was no one. Nathan extracted her from the mental health center, but she didn’t have anything she needed to survive on her own: no credit card or an identification card to take to the bank for a new debit card. She had a cell phone she used for texting and a limited supply of clothes.

Dust tickled her nose, coming from the driveway behind her, and she sneezed.

Troy pulled up beside her in the massive truck. He leaned over to the passenger side and pushed the door open.

He was hard to read compared to a normal human. Spirit guides as old as him and Nathan knew how to control everything about their emotions and facial expressions. The normal telltale signs a human gave weren’t present.

He waved for her to get into the truck.

Amira went to the door.

“Troy, I can’t tell you why,” she said sadly. “It’s okay if you throw me out.”

Amusement flickered through his gaze. “Get your ass in the car. We’re going for lunch.”

She sighed and pulled herself up into the truck, closing the door.

He touched her lightly to get her attention. The heat of his fingers grazing her arm sent a different kind of warmth spiraling through her.

“I’ll never let anything happen to you. But know this: the more secrets, the harder it is to keep you safe. Understand?”

She nodded.

He held her gaze for a long moment then put the truck in gear and pulled onto the road.

Thank you, angels,
she said silently.

He didn’t drive them far, just until they hit town, then pulled into a McDonald’s drive through. She sat forward, excited.

“I’ve never been here before,” she told him.

He eyed her.

“Sacred body. Pedro said McDonalds was off-limits.”

Troy shook his head and pointed at the menu.

Amira read the menu through once before he tapped her.

“Chicken nuggets,” she decided. “Milkshake.”

He nodded and leaned out the window, towards the metal speaker box.

Her eyes drifted to the menu again. Was he ordering or waiting? She couldn’t tell.

“Wait, Troy!” she said, taking his arm. “Cheeseburger.”

He glanced at her.

“Oh, and fries.” She shook his arm. “Troy? Fries!”

He gave her a harried look. “You gonna let me order?”

“
Chocolate
milkshake.”

“I’ll get you a few things. Just chill.”

Satisfied, she sat back. They pulled around to pay then went to the second window. She watched with fascination as the girl at the drive-thru handed Troy several bags of food. The scents filled the cab of the truck, and Amira’s nose wrinkled. It smelled… greasy, fresh, and delicious.

He’d gotten her a huge chocolate milkshake topped with whipped cream. She accepted it happily and took a sip, thrilled by the rich flavor.

She reached for the bags he’d placed between them. He batted her hands away.