Crave

mind forever. “That’s all that matters to me.”

As her eyes welled up, he stepped forward and captured a single, crystal tear on the pad of his thumb. “Don’t cry. I’ve been a dead man walking since I bolted. This is nothing more than what would come to me eventually. And at least I can know you’re safe.”

“Take it back . . . undo it . . . you can—”

He just shook his head.There was no undoing anything—and he was realizing that fully now.

Destiny was a machine built over time, each choice that you made in life adding another gear, another conveyor belt, another assemblyman. Where you ended up was the product that was spit out at the end—and there was no going back for a redo. You couldn’t take a peek at what you’d manufactured and decide, Oh, wait, I wanted to make sewing machines instead of machine guns; let me go back to the beginning and start again.

One shot. That was all you got.

Grier stumbled back and hit the edge of her bed, sinking down like her knees had gone out. “What happens now?”

Her voice was so quiet, he had to strain to catch the words. In contrast, he spoke loud and clear. “They’ll be in touch with me. The device is a transmitter that sends a signal and it will receive their call. When they hit me back, I arrange for a place to turn myself in.”

“So you could fake them out. Leave now—”

“It has a GPS in it so they know where I am every second.”

So they knew he was here now.

But he didn’t think they would kill him in her house—too much exposure. And Grier didn’t know it, but as long as he turned himself in, she was going to be okay because her brother’s death was going to keep her alive. Matthias was the ultimate chessman and he was going to want control over her father, given what the guy knew. Having already offed the son, it went without saying that XOps could do the same to the daughter—and as long as that threat was out there, the elder Childe was neutralized.

The man would do anything to keep from burying a second kid.

Grier’s life was her own.

“My advice to you,” he said, “is stay here. Work things out with your father—”

“How could you do that? How could you turn yourself over to—”

“I wasn’t one of the team who murdered your brother—but I’ve done things like that.” As she recoiled, he nodded. “I’ve gone into homes and killed people and left them where they landed. I’ve stalked men through forests and deserts and cities and oceans and I’ve taken them out. I’m not . . . I’m not an innocent, Grier. I’ve done the worst things one human can do to another—and I got paid for it. I’m tired of carrying all those deeds around with me in my head. I’m exhausted from the memories and the night-mares and the on-edge twitch. I thought running was the answer, but it’s really not, and I just can’t live with myself any longer. Not one more night. Besides, you’re a lawyer. You know the statutes for murder. This”—he dangled the Life Alert by its chain—“is the death sentence I deserve . . . and want.”

Her eyes stayed locked on his. “No . . . no, I know the way you’ve protected me. I don’t believe you’re capable of—”

Isaac whipped off the windbreaker and sweatshirt and turned around, flashing her the massive tattoo of the Grim Reaper that covered every inch of skin on his back.

At her gasp, he hung his head. “Look at the bottom. You see those marks? Those are my kills, Grier. Those are . . . how many brothers and fathers and sons I’ve put into graves. I am . . . not an innocent to be protected. I’m a murderer . . . who’s simply getting what’s coming to him.”

CHAPTER 28

As Adrian reappeared in the back forty of the lawyer’s house, he once again took up res next to Eddie—who was doing an excellent imitation of an oak tree.

“You send the father off?” the other angel murmured.

“Yeah. I gave us enough time for Jim to get back here. He call yet?” Like, in the five minutes he’d been out front with Isaac.

“No.”

“Damn it.”

Frustrated at everything, Ad brushed at his arms, which were still steaming a little. Man, he hated smelling like vinegar—and gee, what do you know, the skirmish with Devina’s Disposable Posse had ruined yet another fucking leather jacket. Which pissed him off.

He’d really liked this one.

Giving up, he refocused on the back of the house. Jim’s superstrength spell was all ashimmer, the red glow sparkling in the night.

“Where the hell is Jim,” Eddie growled as he checked his watch.

“Maybe a fight will come find us again.” Ad forced himself to crack a smile. “Or I could go get us another girlie.”

As Eddie cleared his throat and made like he was all Mr. I-So-Don’t-Do-That, Ad knew better. The angel was a ferocious motherfucker once he dropped the buttoned-up routine—Rachel of the perfect teeth and no last name had been floating on air as they’d sent her off at dawn. And as much as it pained Ad to admit it, he had a feeling a lot of that postcoital blissed-out shit had been from Eddie’s ministrations.

Bastard had a hell of a tongue, evidently—and good job he did. Ad had tried to get into the sex, but he’d ended up just going through the motions.

Eddie rechecked his watch. Looked at his phone. Glanced around. “What did you do to the father?”

“He thinks he came here and Isaac was gone already.”

Eddie rubbed his face like he was exhausted. “I hope like hell Jim gets back soon—that Isaac character is going to bolt. I can feel it.”

“Which is why I hit him with my magic palm.” Adrian flexed the thing. “Jim likes GPS. I don’t.”

“At least TomToms don’t sing like you do.”

“Why is everyone else in the world tone-deaf?”

“I think it’s the other way around.”

“Feh.”

A breeze whistled through the bare limbs of the budding fruit trees and both of them stiffened . . . but it wasn’t round two of Devina’s disposables rolling in. Just the wind.

The long wait grew longer.

And even longer-er.

To the point where Adrian’s natural tendency to be in movement itched up his spine and had him cracking his neck. Over and over again.

“How you doing?” Eddie said softly.

Oh, great. Like the caring-sharing shit would help him relax? Even on a good night, that routine gave him the urge to run around the block a couple hundred times.

“Ad?”

“I’m fine. Dandy. Yourself?”

“I’m serious.”

“And we’re not going there.”

Little pause . . . liiiiiittle happy pause that was drenched and dripping in Eau de Disapproval. “You can talk about it,” Eddie countered. “I’m just saying.”

Oh, for chrissakes. He knew the guy was just being all about the buddy-I-got-your-backs, and it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the effort. But after Devina had had at him this last time, his insides were loose and sloppy, and if he didn’t weather-strip his door, dead-bolt it and toss out his welcome mat, things were going to get messy. In ways that couldn’t be cleaned up.

“And I’m telling you, I’m good. But thanks.”