Slipping the Past (12 page)

“The truth, Nate. I know you’re about to lie. Give me the truth.”

“You had sex with a reaper.”

There it was. Jocelyn’s heart leaped into her throat. Her gaze shot down to the discarded coat lying on the floor. “Oh God.” Amber eyes. Swirling energies of orange and blue. She swallowed and asked the one question she really didn’t want the answer to. Forget—what the hell was she doing in the company of one of the Enforcers? Forget—did he rape her? Forget—why she couldn’t remember any of it. Forget them all. All but one question. It left her lips before she had a chance to regret asking.

“Who?”

Nate cleared his throat. “Can we discuss this after you take a shower?”

“No.” Jocelyn glanced back at the blood. “Who was I with, Nate? Don’t lie to me.”

“Gabriel.”

His face came in clear. She sucked in a breath. She could feel him inside her, her back pushed to the wall. Slapping her hands over her face, she slid down the door to her butt, and sat on the cold tile. “Gabriel,” she whispered. “I remember. Oh God. Gabriel? And the credit for the clothes…where did it come from?”

“Same reaper.”

“What?”

I didn’t stutter, Jocelyn. Your new boyfriend is a reaper and the worst of the bunch.”

Gabriel. “It can’t be. He’d have taken my soul.”

“I think he’s already taken some of it. Do you feel different, outside of being able to see in the light?”

She nodded and swallowed. She’d always been able to sense energies, see auras. They were gone, as though someone had ripped a chunk from her body. Her stomach whirled and she crawled over to the toilet, resting her head on the seat.

“Do you feel different?”

“Yes. I can’t read your energy.” Images of recent events whirled in her head. A pull from below her navel as he drained her.
Gabriel, stop
. Her hands began to shake and she fought the urge to vomit. She’d trusted him, thought he felt the connection. “I’m blind.”

“You can see.”

“No. This isn’t seeing. I’m blind. He blinded me. Oh God, Nate. He took my vision. All of my abilities.” She collapsed to the floor and began to cry. “He took my vision.”

The handle rattled.

“Go away. Leave me alone.”

“Jocelyn?”

“Leave me alone. Please.” She began to cry again, so hard she hiccupped in staggered breaths, struggling to take air into her lungs. What hurt most was that she’d trusted him, thought he felt their bond. Wanted her. “Please.”

“Do you feel it?” His fingers slipped inside her, twisting and stretching. Jocasta moaned and rocked against him. “The heat between us….”

“Did you hear anything I said? Jocelyn. Yo, Sis?”

“Yes. What?”

“I said….”

Her eyes drifted back to the lamp, studying the way the light haloed the top of the shade.

He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “This is important and you’re not listening.”

Jocelyn wound her hair around her fingers but stopped when she felt Nate staring. She dropped the strand. “Sorry.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” He jumped to his feet and began to pace.

She watched him while he did his best to work a groove into the floor. Gone was her kid brother, in his place a weary stranger. Too much responsibility for a twenty-two-year old to carry on his shoulders. It would be best if she walked away, taking her burden with her. He didn’t deserve this, any of it.

Jocelyn nodded. “Go on. You’ve my attention.”

“Five days. You need to kick this and get serious. No more crying, no more moping around. No more zoning out, staring at the lights, daydreaming about that damn reaper.”

“Okay, okay, enough about the reaper. I’m not daydreaming about him.”

He snorted.

“I’m not. Continue, would you?”
Be my wife, Jocasta
. She glanced at the light and snapped her attention back to Nate, who now glared.

“We’ve proven one of your past crimes was self-defense, or I mean, we can, from what you’ve told me, but what about the others? You can’t have visions anymore.”

“They can’t charge me for crimes unless they can trace them to my soul. That means somewhere out there, somebody has history on me. Every dirty detail or almost every dirty detail of my past.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Perhaps the loss of my vision is temporary, or maybe Gabriel has the ability to give it back?”

“Don’t even think about it. You can’t look for him. Haven’t you learned anything from the last encounter?”

“Yeah. I did. I hate the bastard.” Her insides twisted as she said it. “I hate him, Nate.”

Liar. Oh, how she wanted to hate him. She didn’t even know him, but something inside her wouldn’t let the desired emotion fester. It refused to let her feel the way she wanted. Anger. Fury. Denial. Something other than the elation she felt when his name fell off someone’s lips. Even the pain from her lost vision seemed eased when he was mentioned.

Gabriel. Her heart began to race and her stomach fluttered. For some reason, she could smell the spicy scent he wore, feel the energy of his touch as if he were present. Frustrating. Maddening. She wanted to wrap herself in the heat of his body and the beat of his heart. The really sick thing about it was, she’d march into the jaws of the beast for one more moment in that embrace, and not think twice about it.

Nate grabbed a holo-processor and set it on the table, opening it. “They’ve got free stratus-net here.” He laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. “Let’s see if I still have the touch.”

The touch, as Nate called it, was nothing short of a hacking gift. He had a way of getting into anything secure, off limits, or illegal. He had a talent for thievery, and it had come in handy more times than she cared to think about. The kid should have a big job in a corporation, making huge credit doing it—not using that talent to save her worthless hide. It never ceased to amaze Jocelyn he didn’t have a few warrants of his own out there.

But he was good. She glanced at his fingers flying over the pad, barely registering the movement. Really good.

He performed a pronounced, singular stroke with his finger, bringing up a secure page. “Welcome to DSLE, the Department of Spiritual Law Enforcement, home of the planet’s finest.”

“You broke into the confidential database for the reapers.” Jocelyn scooted closer. “I think that’s a new record.” And on the stratus-net. That included off-world transmissions and a serious degree of talent.

“Almost. Three point five seconds shy of what it took me to crack into the NASA database last year and link into the Sentinel Satellite.”

“Seconds? That’s amazing.”

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. A grin split his face. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

“Lacking in modesty, but I can’t argue with you there.” She reached over and ruffled his hair. Nate knocked her hand away.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Joce. Don’t do that. I don’t like it. Makes me feel like a child.”

“Is my baby brother growing up?” She reached to muss his hair again, and he caught her wrist.

“I asked you not to do that.”

Jocelyn nodded and pulled her hand free. “Okay, just trying to kill some of the tension.” That, and she needed to get her thoughts off the ghost in the back of her mind.

“Don’t. We need to stay alert. This isn’t anything to joke about. I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“What? You’re psychic, now?”

“No, but I’ve lived by my gut long enough to know when trouble’s coming.” He turned the holo toward her and pointed at a warrant. “Lots of trouble.” He hit a couple more buttons and the screen went dead. “I can’t pull up your file. Someone’s got it locked down tight.”

“You can’t pull it up?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

***

Gabriel dropped the curtain and walked away from the window. The longer the separation, the crazier he felt. He’d stood in the same spot for hours. Nobody had come in or gone out of the room since yesterday. He’d know. He hadn’t taken his eyes off it in hours. Yesterday, Nate had left for about half an hour and then returned. His arms were loaded with bags. After that, no activity.

Perhaps she wasn’t awake yet? He’d reached out with his mind and tried to touch her. No connection, no indication she even knew he sought her. Gabriel struck out at a lamp, sending it crashing into a wall. Had he taken too much, destroyed her mind?

Not knowing made him nervous. No calls from Diego, no new leads. Things weren’t looking good. Everything was going to hell, quick. He dropped onto the bed and stretched out. The queen-size sleeping surface did little for him. His feet hung off the end and made getting comfortable damn near impossible. Not that he’d be able to relax long enough to get to that stage. His dick strained against his jeans.

Gabriel snorted. He hadn’t slept last night and had already begun to work on a second restless evening. He should just go over there and arrest her. Take her soul and get it over with. Why the hell did he give her time?

She was marked from birth, her crimes clear-cut, and in the history books, her soul linked to past lives by the most brilliant psychic minds of the time. No court on any world would set her free. Bad souls didn’t change. She’d killed in the past, her crimes brutal. She’d do it again. It had been proven over and over with other criminals. Her history overflowed with violence.

She was also over the age of eighteen and no longer immune to prosecution. On the run for the last eight years and a danger to society for every second she remained out of containment. He’d tracked her for two months and had finally gotten lucky when he picked up her energy outside the store. He couldn’t prove it, but Gabriel was certain she’d been up to something illegal, enough in itself to arrest her.

How could he look at all the evidence and doubt it? Black and white, all there. He should feel certain of her guilt, but he didn’t. There was more to it, his gut told him. The only way to find out more was to do the one thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t. He needed to get close to her again.

Jocelyn’s huge head-price had swelled and every Enforcer out there wanted to be the one who took her in. Every Enforcer but him. He knew where she was, yards away, and hadn’t done anything about it. He could have taken her soul in the closet at the hospital, but hadn’t.

What possessed him? He acted like a love-numbed fool. Enforcers didn’t fall in love. Enforcers didn’t have lives that belonged to them. They ate, slept, and dreamed of captures. They were feared and revered heroes who saved society from the monsters that wore pretty skin, like Jocelyn Miller. They didn’t fuck their captives. That was their life. That was his life.

Or it had been.

Jocelyn made him dream of a different one. A life with children and her smiling by his side. She also made him dream in hi-fi porn. She looked, tasted, and felt like temptation and addiction.

“Fuck.” Yeah, he had to go over there. Avoiding her wasn’t getting him anywhere. He needed to talk to her, feel that connection again. Perhaps it would spawn memories of the past.

Gabriel’s pants grew tighter. It would spawn something, all right. He growled and jumped off the bed. Just thinking about her made him a walking erection. He tried not to make it personal, but every time he thought of her, she was naked. How could he let his quarry get to him like this? What about her made him crazy with lust? Why couldn’t he picture her with clothes?

He walked into the bathroom and started the shower. He cranked the dial to ice and undressed, dropping his clothing to the floor. It should take the edge off, if not at least knock a little sense into him, or shock him—maybe hypothermia would help. He needed to build his resistance before he went over there. Something better work. He certainly couldn’t go on like this. He scared the general public enough.

He stepped in and jumped out so fast he nearly hit the wall on the other side of the bathroom. Gabriel threw his hands out and caught the towel bar as his feet slid out from under him. He only had seconds to register the tile wall and the imminent collision. Bright lights exploded through his vision.

“Please. You can’t go. I need you.” Jocasta grabbed his hand and squeezed, trying to keep his spirit grounded to terra firma, to her. She slid her body over his, holding him. The blood on his chest stained her dress, but she didn’t seem to care. “Come back to me. Don’t go.”

“Let me go, Jo.”

Jo released his hand and a tear slid down her cheek. “I can’t live without you.”

“You can and you will for our child.” He slid his hand over her belly and he gazed into her eyes. “I will always come back for you. Always. In this lifetime or the next. I’ll always come.”

“No, don’t go. I love you.”

“Live your life. Raise our child to make me proud. I’ll see you again. This parting won’t be forever.” He reached up to touch a loose strand of her hair, soaked in blood. She’d made a mess of herself. Her hair. “It’s painted red.”

“I don’t care. Don’t leave me.”

“I’ll return to you. Always.”

His hand dropped to the bed. With a raspy hiss, his last breath blew past his lips, and he felt as if he lifted from his body to float above, staring down on the remains and love of his life.

“On the gods, I swear I’ll find a way for you to come back to me.” Jocasta stumbled back and sank to the floor. She threw her head back and screamed at the top of her lungs. Her hands raked her face, hair, and the fabric of her gown that draped across one shoulder, knocking it loose, leaving it bare over her breast. In that spot, blood, the remnant of his battle wound and her desperation to hold him to life, had marked her skin in an upside-down heart.

His brother and killer rushed in, lifting her from the floor. She kicked and screamed, fighting him, wanting to stay. “You have to let go, Jocasta. Let him be at peace.”

“No. No. No.”

The end of a wet mop brushed his face. Gabriel blinked. The shower no longer ran and someone had discreetly dropped a towel over his body, covering what would be a bare backside. The mop slid by him again and he glanced at a shoe. He followed it up to see a maid, working around him.