Catch Me in Castile (28 page)

I pulled two cute little bodies out of the tub and wrapped them in heavy cotton towels. They were warm and sweet smelling, like milk and honey.

“I could just eat you up.” I kissed the closest pudgy tummy.

“Mama!” My daughter giggled. “That tickles.”

“Get me too, Mama.” My son thrust his belly in my face.

“Oh, I’m gonna get you.” I laughed and blew zerberts on his bellybutton. The giggles were deafening.

“There, all dry. Now off to your room. Rosa’s bringing your PJs from the dryer. See, there she is. Uh-oh, looks like she’s winning.”

Squeals of delight echoed off the walls as the twins raced to beat Rosa to their shared bedroom.

“
Dios mío
, me old bones,” Rosa exclaimed as the two-and-a-half-year-old forces of nature ran past, almost knocking her off her feet.

I laughed and thanked God all over again for my good fortune. I had the love of my life and two treasures flying buck naked down the hall. I owed it all to Serena. She saved my life in the tower and together we found her memories. The good, the bad, and the beautiful.

She came to me one last time in the hospital. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know she was there.

“You came back,” I whispered.

“
Sí
, to say
adios
.”

“What? Why? We haven’t done the séance yet. I promised I would find someone who really knows how to send you on.”

“I know. But I have been thinking. Do you suppose other ghosts are here?”

I scrunched my eyes at her. “I suppose so. People say they see ghosts all the time. Why?”

“What if an evil person like Clara were to die? Would her spirit remain evil?”

“I…I really don’t know.”

“And if such a bad spirit were to enter living persons as I did to you? What then?”

I thought about Rosa’s warning about becoming possessed. I also thought of Aunt Lulu who claimed a person was talking inside her head all the time. “It would be bad.”

“Exactly.”

“What are you saying?”

“I must do everything in my power to stop Clara from hurting others. And then find a way to send her spirit straight to hell.”

“Ah, okay. But what if she isn’t here? What if she’s cooking her toes as we speak?”

“Then I shall find someone else to send me on. You gave me back my memories of Andrés. You have done more than enough.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I shall miss you as well. Be safe, my friend.” And she was gone.

I would always be grateful and wished I could thank her somehow.

The opportunity presented itself in two small packages. When I told Santiago the names I had chosen for the twins, he smiled and nodded. “Serena and Andrés Botello? Perfect.”

I bought a new notebook and wrote down the love story of Serena and Andrés. One day, when the twins were old enough to allow a ghost story into their lives, I would read it to them. I had a feeling these two munchkins would enjoy hearing about their namesakes, provided I left out some of the lovey-dovey stuff.

An hour after I had put the kids to bed, a tired Santiago came through the door.

“Hi babe.” I kissed him soundly. “Long day?”

“Not the longest, but close. How was yours?” he mumbled into my collarbone. His breath sent a shimmy of warm delight across my skin.

“Not boring.” I worked alone these days, still keeping a small list of faithful clients and even dabbling into day-trading. Turns out I hadn’t lost my touch. Those boys at the firm had nothing on me. Best of all, I had balance in my life. Wholeness. Letting go of the old Erin had been the best career choice I’d ever made.

“You should’ve seen what your two rascals did today,” I went on. “The plumber had quite a laugh saying they take the prize for most bars of soap jammed down the toilet with a plunger.”

“Oh, no.” He lifted his head. “Where are they?”

“Asleep.”

He took me by the hand and we walked quietly into their shared room.

“Such angels,” I whispered, amazed at how the right light on a child’s soft cheek could erase all the troubles of the day.

He kissed the side of my forehead. “Let’s wake them.”

“Oh, no you don’t. It’s my first moment of silence all day.”

“Please.”

“Nothing doing. Go change and I’ll warm your dinner. Rosa made one of your favorites.”

I stopped on my way to the kitchen. “Holy cow! Someone’s sawing logs.”

The ruckus was coming from
Señora
Botello’s (or Nana’s, as we called her now) room. She had fallen asleep in her favorite chair, a book open across her lap, snoring without a care in the world. Placing the book on her nightstand, I pulled the lap-blanket up and tucked it around her tiny body.

She looked good. Not so frail anymore. With the new medication she was taking, she seemed normal. There were a few rare moments of strangeness, but mostly she was a regular, sweet granny to the kids, in a constant battle with my mom for Grandmother of the Year Award. They both spoiled the twins mercilessly. I’m sure I would pay for it in the teenage years.

Nana and I got along swimmingly. She always had liked me even when I thought she was trying to kill me. Really she had been giving me clues about the poisoned tea, doing her best to sneak out of Maria’s tight clutches. Sadly, I didn’t figure it out until too late.

“Night, Nana.” I kissed the top of her head and turned out the light.

Warming Santiago’s food in the microwave, I poured two glasses of wine.
Where is that man?

On a hunch, I went to the kids’ room. My heart melted. The world’s most handsome man was wrapped in tiny arms and legs, in a little girl’s bed. He had moved little Andrés so he could lie between them. It was a crowded spot of heaven.

“Want to snuggle?” he whispered in the glow of the nightlight.

“No place I’d rather be.” I wiggled in between the pink princess sheets.

I thought briefly about my pale blue notebook. I had written just one more entry in it before I put it away four years ago. Every line had been accomplished, including number five: No more nightmares, only sweet dreams from now on. The last line was my favorite.

Snuggling closer, I kissed my husband. I didn’t need a journal to get a life anymore.

I already had one.

2) Relax. Flirt. Enjoy a man, just because. Become a goddess.

3) Be the goddess. Be the goddess. Be the goddess. And don’t go crazy.

4) Get through to Santiago, if it kills me. And stop flipping out.

5) No more nightmares. Only sweet dreams from now on.

6) Find Santiago before it’s too late.

7) Forget about being a goddess. Let him love you for the woman you are.

Please visit her at www.kimberleytroutte.com or come blogging at http://kimberleytroutte.blogspot.com.

How about the sexiest, most dangerous of all bad boys—Death himself?

Cain’s job as a designated death dealer is clear. Kill and move on. Don’t get attached. Don’t feel. But when Sara pleads to cut a deal for more time, Cain is tempted by an unexpected craving for this beautiful, courageous woman. As their lips meet, her life force shakes him to his bones, seals the bargain—and breaks all the rules.

Keeping Sara alive is a dangerous proposition. The Powers That Be are furious and unleash bloodthirsty demons to steal Sara’s soul from Death—the one man who’s hell-bent on saving her life.

Warning: This book contains the sexiest of all bad boys, a woman desperate to get what she wants, deadly soul-sucking demons, surprise visits by Biblical characters, frog grenades, very bad dogs, sacrifice, redemption and eternal love.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Soul Stealer:

“Where are we going?” he asked, scanning every shadow.
Who would come for them first?
How bad was it going to get?

“To the old JCPenney building.” Sara hugged the dumb cat tightly to her chest.

“The homeless shelter?” he spit out.

“It will be, if I can help it.” She lifted her chin.

“Woman, I cannot fathom why you would take us to the second place they will surely look.”

“Doubt it. God doesn’t normally hang out in homeless shelters,” she replied bitterly.

“You are wrong.” Cain stopped walking and faced her. “Dead wrong.”

“Excuse me? I’ve met enough of the downtrodden, drunk, wasted, mentally ill people out there to know what I’m talking about.”

He shook his head. “God is everywhere. Especially on the streets. He cares, Sara.”

She gaped at him.

“Trust me on this. Being homeless is not the worst thing that can happen to a man.” His eyes blazed like an animal’s in the dark. “Neither is death.”

He let her see the bone-raw pain and sadness in his face. Exhaustion was there too, from carrying the weight of his crimes for thousands of years. He wanted her to see it all. To understand.

“Even now, God is watching our every move,” he said softly.

Her face fell. “Then how in the world are we going to get away?”

“We won’t. We’ll be caught. But I’m hoping He sees enough good in what you are doing that He’ll let the two weeks slide.”

“You think so?” she asked hopefully.

“Perhaps. But there will be a price, a big one, to pay in the end. Folks up there aren’t thrilled that I stole your soul.”

She nearly dropped the cat. “You what?”

“I put your soul back in your body so that you could live.”

“Back in my… You mean I died back there? When you kissed me? I actually died!”

“Yes.”

“But when you kissed me in my house—”

“That was different. I didn’t want to kill you then. Plus, I wasn’t angry. You really don’t want to make me mad.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” She frowned and hugged the cat even tighter. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

A couple blocks later, they were standing at the bottom of five concrete steps in front of an ancient building. Even in the dark, it was clear he was looking at more than deferred maintenance. This building seemed diseased. Giant chunks of paint peeled off the walls. Teenagers had grafittied swirly lettered initials across the boarded-up windows. It was a sorry sight for a homeless shelter.

Sara jingled her keys in front of his eyes. “We’re here. Great, huh?”

He shook his head. “This is what you’re fighting for? What we’ve risked our necks for.” He pointed at the dilapidated building. “
This?
”

“No.” She sounded perturbed. “I fight for lives.”

Against me
, he thought.

“You can’t see the potential?” She opened the door wide and flipped on the lights.

“Nope.”

“Ah, come on. The biggest job was getting the showers and the kitchen renovated, which were completed last week. I swear, when we are finished, this place is going to feel like home.”

He gave her his best steely eyed stare. “We?”

She ignored his look and stepped inside. “This is going to be the living room. Tomorrow, a few guys are dropping off two couches to go right here.” She motioned. “They’re used, but in decent shape. A rug, small TV, coffee table, tall lamps.
Voilà
! Just like home.”

He followed her into the empty, cavernous room. An escalator, frozen like a museum dinosaur, was the only object in the place. The broken tiled floors, the dented walls and the musky smell all hit him like a kick to the head.

“Two weeks? There’s no way, Sara. This place needs to be condemned!”

“So you
will
help me?” She pleaded with her blue eyes.

He put her things down with a thump that sent dust billowing into the air and grabbed her around the waist. “That wasn’t the deal.”

The cat jumped out of her arms with a loud meow. He ran off to search for mice, leaving paw tracks across the dusty floor.

Sara wiggled her hips from side to side, brushing her thighs against his. “No way I can convince you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t fix things.”

She put her palms on his cheeks, and kissed him lightly on the nose. “Then my part of the bargain will have to wait. There’s a ton of work to do, and no time.” She spun out of his reach and sashayed away.

“Wait!” He captured her by the wrist. “So I have to help you, or I won’t get—?”

“Any.” Her gaze drifted down his body, focusing on the area where his jeans fit snugly.

“Now listen here, lady.” He gave her arm a little tug and she fell forward, landing conveniently with her breast in his hand. He went with it. “It’s been a very long time.” He felt for the nipple under her shirt and rolled it between his fingers. “Too long.”

“Oh,” she whispered on a breath.

He smiled, beginning to love her “Oh’s”. Bending down, he nipped at her hard nipple through the cotton T-shirt. Her head fell back, exposing a sleek neck. He pulled her jacket off her shoulders and the shirt over her head. She didn’t stop him.

He stopped himself. Her body was breathtaking. It had been…who was he kidding, maybe never, since he had seen such perfection. He let his gaze travel across her light, freckle-dusted skin. She had a lithe, toned body, an athlete’s build. He liked the strength in her muscled shoulders and sleek, long arms. She seemed so healthy and brimming with life, not at all like a woman brushed by death.

He grinned.
Change that to ravaged by Death.

His fingertips traced the sharp edge of her collarbones and drew a lazy circle in the pit of her throat. He could feel her heart racing almost as fast as his. He wanted her so badly it hurt. Could she feel him tremble?

Her breath grew raspy when he ran his fingers under the straps of her pale pink bra. Her pupils dilated as he slowly tugged the straps down off her shoulders. She gasped when he gave a final yank. The bra slipped down to reveal the Creator’s finest work—her glorious, perfect, petite breasts.

He pulled her closer. Wanting to savor her, just as he had the first moment they kissed, he licked one nipple and then the other. Tasting. Relishing. Needing more. Her hands fell to the top of his head, urging him on. He suckled fast, slow, fast again. He was wild with his own need, but held back, watching her, always watching her.

Her eyes were closed. A “mmm” escaped her moist pink lips. Arching her back, she gave herself to him fully.

His heart warmed.

Be honest
, he told himself.
You’ve taken everything from her. It’s a miracle she survived.

But now he had something to give back. An offering. Whatever she thought of him, he knew she wanted this. Needed this. Maybe more than he did.

He moved up, kissing her long, sweet-smelling neck. As he nibbled her ear, his hand traveled down her, slowly, deliberately across her soft belly and lower still. He wanted her to anticipate his moves, to know where he was going. She made a sound that quaked with her hunger and raw need when he cupped her through her jeans.

Madly, she gripped his shoulders. She pressed her hips into him. Bucking, hanging on, she rode him and let herself go. His hand moved with her, matching her pace, wanting nothing more than to give her pleasure, release, joy. When the brilliant burst of release washed over her face, he thought he’d never seen anything more lovely. More alive.

She came right there in his hands. He was awestruck.

“That’s just a preview of what I am going to do to you.” His voice was choked with raw desire. “Now, where’s the broom?”

Panting, she whispered to his retreating back, “Lord help me.”