LIKE THE ONE WHERE HE’S ON HIS KNEES AND…
Shut up. “It doesn’t count if you don’t act on it.”
“But I hesitated.”
“And then you made up for lost time. Trust me, they cancel each other out.”
Dean forced a smile. “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, Boss, but nothing can cancel out what I’ve done.” The smile slipped. “I should go see if Faith needs my help.” Trailing misery behind him like streamers of smoke, he started for the stairs.
Which was when Claire realized…“Dean, did you say you actually heard a little voice?”
“Yeah.”
“How did it sound?”
Two steps down, he stopped and leaned back out into the hall. “Sound?”
“Can you describe it?”
“I guess.” He frowned, brows dipping down below the upper edge of his glasses. “It sort of sounded like it was talking in block caps.”
Should she tell him? Would it help? No. If Dean knew he was hearing the voice of Radio Free Hell, he’d be more convinced than ever that his hesitation had damned him. “Dean, do me a favor. If you hear the voice again, please ignore it.”
After a moment, he nodded. “Okay.”
A sudden shriek of laughter from below had them both clamping their hands over abused ears. Side by side, they hurried downstairs.
The second floor hall was empty so they kept going.
Inhaling his clean, fabric softener scent, Claire wasn’t thinking of either Fred or Faith. After nine months, she wondered, what had finally given Hell a way in?
In room six, directly across from the open elevator door, Aunt Sara licked her lips.
Baseball cap skewed, Fred pulled out of the clinch as Claire and Dean emerged from the stairwell. “You were so good to Faith, you oughta know; we’re giving up our life of crime.”
“Although it wasn’t really a life of crime,” Faith protested. “It was only two stores and we paid for them taco chips.”
“I think you’ve made a wise decision,” Claire told them, smiling. “What do you think, Dean.”
He shrugged and looked miserable. “I’m not one to say.”
Claire rolled her eyes. This I’m a horrible person stuff was going to get old, really fast. “But you’re glad they’ve decided to go straight, aren’t you?”
“Sure.”
That was good enough for Fred. “Thanks. Truth be told, we weren’t any good at it.”
Faith’s lower lip went out, making her look like a pouty angel. “We coulda practiced more, Pookie. Or got a gun.”
“No guns. People get hurt when you got a gun.” He patted her shoulder. “I’m takin’ that job with my cousin Rick.” Turning back to Claire and Dean, he added, “Rick’s got a truck, eh, and he hauls stuff.”
“You’re not gonna call the cops, are you?” Faith asked, leaning past him and twisting a curl around her finger.
“No.”
“See, Pookie, I told you they were good people.”
Dean winced.
Claire resisted the urge to stamp on his foot and give him something to wince about. Instead, she herded their modern Bonnie and Clyde to the front door and waved them out toward the waiting world. “Go home. Go straight. Be happy.”
At the bottom of the steps, Faith turned and smiled beatifically back in at Claire. “Thank you for letting me use the room and everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You figure their parents were cousins?” Austin asked when she closed the door.
“I have no idea.”
He yawned, stretched, and glanced over at Dean. “What’s with him? He looks like he just tried to kill somebody.”
Dean stared wide-eyed at the cat. “You can tell?”
Austin sighed and flicked an ear toward Claire. “What’s he talking about?”
“When he heard Fred going upstairs in the elevator, he hesitated before racing off to save him.”
“Not much point in removing only one of them,” Austin agreed.
“You’re not helping,” Claire snapped before Dean could react Crossing the lobby, she poked him in the chest. “Stop tearing yourself up over this. You aren’t a horrible person. You’ve got to be the nicest guy I’ve ever met.”
NICE GUYS FINISH LAST.
“Get out of my head.”
WE WEREN’T TALKING TO YOU.
Oh, Hell…
“Dean?”
“If you don t need me for anything, I’d like to go downstairs and do some serious thinking about my life.” He spun on one heel and hurried off before she could answer, which was probably a good thing since she couldn’t think of anything constructive to say.
Walking over to the counter, she scooped Austin up into her arms and stroked the top of his head with her cheek. “This is not good.”
“What? That after living unaffected next to Hell for almost a year, Dean spends a month and a half in your company and all of a sudden he’s willing to kill?”
“He hesitated! Then he saved the guy!”
“Face the facts, Claire, you’ve got him tied in knots. He’s not thinking, he’s reacting and that’s exactly the sort of situation Hell loves to exploit.”
THE CAT’S RIGHT.
“Of course I am; but who asked you?”
She set him back on the counter. “I’m not Dean’s problem.”
JEALOUSY IS ONE OF OURS.
“He said he was fine with me and Jacques.”
YOU’RE REALLY NOT A PEOPLE PERSON, ARE YOU?
“Take your own advice and stop listening to Hell.” Austin paused to lick at a bit of mussed fur. “Let Dean do his serious thinking, and maybe he’ll solve the problem on his own.”
“Cherie?”
“And speaking of problems.”
Shooting Austin a warning look, she turned to face Jacques. Translucent in the light from the office window, he looked exactly the way he had the first day she’d set eyes on him. She realized that she’d been expecting their night together to have changed him, but, unfortunately, it seemed to have changed only her perception of him—men were just so much more attractive when they were opaque.
“You are more beautiful this morning than I have ever seen you.” His eyes twinkled. It was a disconcerting effect since Claire could see the door through them. “I have been thinking. One night cannot balance so many years alone; perhaps this afternoon…”
“No.”
His grin faded. “But cherie, was I not all I promise I would be?”
“Yes, but…”
The grin returned. “Give me flesh again,
