Reaper's Vow (5 page)

“Maybe,” Cole threw back, watching Isaiah interact with the man who'd called him over. There was a deference in the other man's attitude. Attentiveness in Jones's. Whatever he was, Jones wasn't a bully. More puzzle pieces that didn't fit the image Cole had nursed over the last few months. “Or I might just be tired of chasing your asses all over creation looking for answers.”

Gaelen shrugged. “Well, Isaiah might not be answering your questions because he doesn't like you, or he might not be answering because it's a long story and right now too many other people need a piece of him. Hard to tell.”

Nothing worse than getting a sensible answer when a man wanted a reason to throw a punch.

Cole hoisted his saddlebags up onto his shoulder. “You still too busy to show me where I'll be bunking?”

If he had to wait, he might as well do it in comfort.

“I should be, but I suppose if I don't, you'll go poking around under the pretense of searching for a bed.”

It was Cole's turn to smile. “I do have that tendency.”

“That's what I thought.” With a jerk of his head Gaelen ordered, “This way.”

* * *

His bunk was a one-room cabin with loose-planked sides that let in sporadic beams of sunlight. There wasn't anything strictly feminine about the place, but it had a feminine feel that went beyond the makeshift curtains dressing up the narrow window.

The space consisted of a small table, two chairs, a bed in the corner that was too short for his large frame, a roughly hewn trunk at the foot of the bed, and shelves against the wall on which dishes and pots were stacked. And a smaller bed catty-corner on another wall. Not much went on inside this small space except sleeping, but it was spotless. He wondered if they'd cleaned for him. He didn't know how he felt about that.

He tested the mattress with his hand. It was thin but firm. From the feel of things a layer of material covered the husks beneath. The sheets and blanket looked clean. He set his saddlebags down. He'd certainly stayed in much worse places.

Taking his makings for a smoke out of his pocket, he went outside. Sitting on the stump to the left of the door, he dragged a sulfur across the axe propped against the side of the house. The soft hiss of the flame whispered across his nerves in an unnecessary warning. He was in the enemy camp, living on the mercy of a man who bore him a grudge, buying time for . . . ? Cole pushed his hat off his brow and took a drag on his smoke. Hell, he wasn't even sure anymore. He'd come for Addy, but the Addy he'd come to rescue bore little resemblance to the confident, apparently happy woman who'd greeted him.

Too weary to dwell on that, Cole leaned back, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and observed the comings and goings from under the brim. It always paid to know your enemy. And nothing said more about a group's philosophy than how they went about setting things up. Like with all growing settlements the initial impression was chaos, but as he sat and smoked and watched, he could see there was order behind it. The camp was divided up into four sections. From what he could tell there was a married section, a single male section—he didn't see any identifiably single women beyond Miranda—a cooking section, and a bathing/personal business section. Everybody seemed to have a job and know what needed to be done. He could say a lot of things about Reapers, but that they were lazy wasn't one of them. They didn't have much to spare for him, except the occasional curious glance.

He saw Miranda appear out of one of the houses, a child by her side. They were too far away for him to discern if the child was hers, but their coloring was similar. He reached for her energy. Before he could touch it, he felt the rise in Isaiah's.
Fuck
. Isaiah
could
sense his tests. That was going to complicate things. He settled back to observing.

Miranda went about her business with calm efficiency. From what he could tell, she wasn't one for idle chitchat. She said “hi” to no one, and no one said “hi” to her. But there were no signs of animosity. It was simply as if the others were respecting her wishes. Interesting. A woman who wanted to be left alone.

It was definitely going to take a little while to figure out the ways of this place, but as much as he'd anticipated looking down on anything Isaiah did, Cole was grudgingly impressed. There was mud, of course, because it'd just rained and the ground had been dug up, but there wasn't filth. Everything had its place. Everyone had his job. Whatever Jones was doing, it was organized, including changing Addy. Cole didn't like change. Especially in the ones he loved. And he especially didn't like it in Addy. She'd always relied on him, and her rituals. She'd built them slowly and steadily over time, and Addy being here was . . . he shook his head. All wrong.

The temperature dropped as the sun set. As dusk fell, Jones crossed the compound, coming toward Cole with long, firm strides. The man might be crazy, but he was confident. Cole stood. There was an air of tension about the other man. As he got closer, he took off his hat and ran his hand through his thick brown hair. Cole always remembered Jones's hair as being too long, but it was neatly trimmed now. Addy's doing, no doubt.

Son of a bitch. Cole didn't want to accept Jones in Addy's life.

Reese's voice echoed in his mind.
Like it or not, she loves him. So why don't you give him a chance?
Cole shook his head. Didn't look like he was going to have a choice.

“You ready to listen?” Isaiah asked.

“It depends on whether you're ready to talk,” Cole answered.

“I'd rather kick your ass out of here and get back to my life.”

That was honest enough. Cole took out fresh makings. “If any ass kicking's going to be going on, I'm going to be the one doing it.”

Isaiah's attention was on the makings. “Uh-huh.”

“From the way you're looking, I'm guessing you haven't had a smoke in a while.”

Isaiah shrugged. “It pisses Addy off.”

Cole passed over his makings.

Isaiah's lips quirked and took them. He set about rolling the cigarette with his usual efficiency. “You don't know your cousin too well if you think being mad at me is her foot out the door.”

Cole sighed. “Used to know her.” He passed Isaiah a sulfur. “It seems she's changed some, though.”

“For the better.”

Cole looked at him and took a drag of his cigarette. “Yeah, well, that would be according to you, and you've got an interest in me seeing her as happy.”

Isaiah lit his smoke. “She is happy.”

“But she's not safe.” Cole hazarded a guess.

Isaiah took a drag of his own cigarette and blew the smoke out, looking up at the hills and the ridges as if he could see what was coming in the landscape.

“No, she's not.”

“And why would that be?”

“Reapers have laws.”

“And one of these laws affects my cousin?”

Jones nodded again, took another drag of his cigarette. “One of the laws is, Reapers are forbidden to take up with human women.”

That sounded serious.

“What's the penalty for breaking that law?”

“Death.”

“To you?”

“To both.”

“Shit. And they sent somebody out after you?”

“There've been a few.”

“But that's not the biggest problem?” Cole hazarded another guess, looking at Isaiah's expression. Smoke curled around his face casting an air of mystery. As he narrowed his eyes, Cole could see what Addy saw in him. The man radiated strength and power.

“There are those that think that Reapers are in a position to take over this country now that it's in such disarray after the war.”

“Fuck, they want to go into politics?”

Isaiah shook his head. “No. They want power. A lot of power. They see themselves as superior, but the hitch in the giddyup is Reaper law.

“So how does Addy play into this?”

Jones shook his head. “Shit. We need whiskey for this.”

“I don't have any more, do you?”

Jones shrugged. “Just one of the many things on the to-do list.”

“Setting up a bar?”

“At this point we'd settle for the sufficient contents for the bar, but yeah. Liquor is scarce.”

“Then I guess we'll have to make due with cigarettes. So spill it.”

“Reapers are different. You've seen it yourself.”

Monsters
whispered through his mind.

“Make your point.”

“It's not an easy one to make to a human.”

“I'm getting damn tired of people calling me human with a sneer in their voice.”

Isaiah took another drag on his cigarette, shook his head, and flicked off the ash. “Anyone ever tell you for a man who is living on borrowed time, you've got a lot of attitude?”

“I've been told a lot of things.”

Isaiah looked at him from the corner of his eye. “In this case, you ought to listen.”

Cole knew what Isaiah meant, what he was trying to tell him. He was in charge of this band, but his control was not absolute. At any time Cole could find himself under attack. As if he didn't know it. The energy humming under his skin was a constant warning.

“Noted. Now, get on to telling me what's going on with Addy.”

“She's making her home here.”

“So I noticed.”

“You don't approve.”

“No.”

“She can't go back with you.”

“So you say.”

“It's the way it is.”

“Why?”

“She's Reaper now.”

“Even if that marriage you held is legal, she can be un-Reapered in the time it takes for a judge to hit his gavel on the stand.”

Isaiah's lip lifted in a snarl, and his eyes took on a strange glow. The energy that pulsed out from him pummeled Cole with hard, invisible blows.

“You will not take her from me.”

Cole was beginning to get that impression. “And you can't keep what's not yours.”

“She's my mate. There is no part of Addy that doesn't belong to me.”

Cole didn't like the images that came with that. “Being with you will only get her hurt—”

“You saw her,” Isaiah cut in. “Does she look hurt?”

“No.” Dammit, she didn't. She looked like Addy, yet different somehow. “Not yet.”

In a wink the other man's energy disappeared, and his face became a flat, expressionless mask. Cole wasn't impressed.

“You'd do well not to rouse the beast in us.”

“I'll do whatever it takes to get answers.”

Isaiah took another drag on his cigarette, the tip glowed bright orange in the deepening gloom. Around them the crickets stilled. His energy seethed.

“Even if those answers don't exist?”

“They exist. It's just a matter of hunting them down.”

“Addy said you were persistent.”

“I showed up here, didn't I?”

“I told her you would. She wasn't happy about it.”

“Why?”

Isaiah stubbed out his cigarette on the sole of his boot. “She worries you'll judge her.”

If she'd worried about that, she wouldn't have left him with just a note. She would have told him personally rather than running. “What does it matter if I do or don't?”

Isaiah looked at Cole from under the brim of his hat as he straightened. “You matter to her.”

Bullshit
. Before the word could follow the thought, he heard familiar footsteps behind him. Addy.

He turned around, and she was standing there. He wanted to hold on to his anger, but she kept walking right on up to him, slid her arms around his waist, and made mincemeat of his intentions.

She looked up at Cole, those big blue eyes so familiar and full of love. “Why is it so hard for you to understand, Cole? You're both my family.”

Jones's energy snapped aggressively as he hugged her back; he couldn't help it. “It's more a matter of accepting, not understanding.” He shrugged. “Jones is not the man I would have chosen for you.”

“But he's my choice.”

This close Cole couldn't miss the contentment in his cousin. “So you keep telling me.”

But she was more than telling him. She was showing him. In ways he couldn't ignore.

Isaiah growled again and caught Addy's hand, tugging her back to his side. She went easily, sighing as she melted into Isaiah's side as if she belonged there.

“Cole, you've treated me like I don't know my own mind ever since you brought me home when I was eleven,” Addy said in that soft, controlled voice she used when she was about to lay down the law.

Cole cut her off before she could finish. “You were fragile.”

“And you made me strong,” she countered just as quickly.

He didn't like the way she was standing up to him. He didn't like the sting of truth in her words, and he really didn't like the way Isaiah wrapped her hand in his as if Cole was a threat from which she needed protection.

“And now you're both my family,” Addy finished.

Addy and Isaiah stood there united, their energy so blended, their contentment so strong, Cole couldn't even fire back. They were a couple. Whatever else was going on, that was the truth. And Addy was happy. Another truth. And he was going to have to like it. Fuck. That was the worst truth of all.

Cole took the last drag on his cigarette, the acrid smoke burning his lungs, before throwing it on the ground and grinding it out with the toe of his boot.

“You sure can pick 'em, Addy.” A Reaper. A goddamn Reaper.

“Yes, I can, and if you'd stop being so mad at yourself, you'd probably figure out there's a lot to like in Isaiah.”

That was asking too much. “I'm never going to like that son of a bitch, and he's never going to like me.”

Addy looked between Cole and Isaiah, and Isaiah shrugged. Her face fell and then took on that stubborn look Cole knew so well. He'd seen it in the mirror often enough.