Smoking Hot (7 page)

“It was the angel who saved her,” Grandpa stated boldly from the other side of the curtain. “Her guardian angel pushed her out of the way and saved her from a bullet.”

“Where is the angel now, Mr. McCandless?” a man asked.

Raine's eyebrows drew together. “Grandpa, who are you talking to?”

“That guy from the
Randolph Tribune
. He's doing a piece on the holdup.” He cleared his throat. “Dillon, that's the angel's name, he wasn't in the bank. He disappeared. Whoosh! Maybe he went back to his ranch.”

“The angel owns a ranch?” The reporter barely contained his humor.

“Grandpa, I think that's enough with the stories.”

“It's fine, baby girl.”

“The ranch?” the reporter urged.

Raine moved the pillow from under her head and covered her face. Was it possible to suffocate herself? Or would she pass out first? It might be worth a try.

“Oh, yeah, he owns a ranch with some other nephilim.”

“Nephilim? I thought you said he was an angel.”

“Young fella, don't you read your bible? It's as plain as the nose on your face. You can read all about them in the Good Book.”

“Grandpa,” she wailed.

“Now, Sock, what are you doing that's causing so much distress to your granddaughter?” Tilly asked. “My goodness, I go to the powder room for a few minutes, and look what trouble you get into.”

“Weren't no trouble. I was just tellin' this reporter fella about the angel that saved Raine.”

“Did you see the angel?” the reporter eagerly asked.

“If I did,” Tilly said, “I certainly wouldn't be telling you. Now shoo before I spill my coffee.”

The curtain slid open. Raine kept the pillow over her face. “Take me home,” she said, pretty sure they could understand her. She wanted to go home and crawl under the striped down comforter on her bed and sleep for at least ten hours. Her body ached from when she'd landed on that blasted hardwood floor.

But an hour and a half passed before she got her wish. She barely remembered the drive home or falling into bed. She finally dragged her eyes open at ten the next morning and pulled on her clothes. When Grandpa proudly showed her the front page of the newspaper, she wished she could go back to bed and sleep forever.

“Lookee here, baby girl, you're famous.”

The headlines were big and bold.

BANK ROBBED! DEPUTY SWEARS ANGEL SAVED HER LIFE!

Raine groaned. It reminded her of the cheap tabloids at the checkout in the supermarket. Grandpa unfolded the paper. When had the reporter snapped a picture? She peered a little closer. She was on the ER cot and her eyes were closed. The damn reporter had added a caricature of a grinning angel standing beside her bed.

Raine wished the blasted angel would go to Hell!

Dillon hadn't been plagued by Sock's incessant prayers, so he supposed the old man didn't have anything to complain about. “I'm glad someone is happy,” he muttered, bringing his hammer down hard enough to bury the staple in the cedar post. “Yeah, they always take and take and take, then forget about you after they get what they want.” He reached inside the leather tool belt tied around his waist and brought out another staple, but dropped it.

What was wrong with him? He should be thrilled he didn't have to listen to the old man's monotonous stories about life before corporations began to take over the world and run the government. He'd been there, too. He paused, hammer drawn back. Sock's stories were a lot more fun to hear, though. He was a born storyteller.

Dillon frowned. The old man was still a pain in the ass, though, and he
was
glad he didn't have to listen to him.

Or feel Raine's body pressed against his or imagine how it would feel to sink inside her body…

“Damnation!” Why did he even think about her? She wasn't his type. From what Sock said, she could get bossy and she was a workaholic. So what if her skin was soft beneath his fingers?

He was thinking about her again. It seemed that was all he did lately, no matter how hard he tried not to. He shoved his hand inside the tan leather pouch again and brought out another staple, spilling several on the ground. He didn't bother to pick them up. Before the day was finished, he
would
stop thinking about her! He reared his hand back and brought the hammer down as hard as he could.

The hammer slammed into his thumb.

Throbbing pain shot up his arm, then spiraled down to his toes before shooting back up to the top of his head. He bellowed out a string of curses, threw the hammer down, and grabbed the post as lights flashed in front of him. His thumb burned to hell and back.

Nephilim could feel pain, and right now he was feeling a hell of a lot. He closed his eyes and clamped his lips together, waiting for the healing to come.
Deep breath
, he told himself.
Deep breath and focus
.

The ache slowly began to ease. This was only his thumb and he knew it wouldn't take long to heal. Not as long as it took him to heal after getting shot during the bank robbery. Man, bullets stung.

His strained muscles relaxed. He eased his glove off, but he didn't need to be careful. His thumb was fine. To be certain, he moved it back and forth. No pain. Nothing. As good as new. Nothing ever changed.

He leaned his arm against the post, drawing in a deep breath. No, nothing ever changed. Answering prayers was a thankless job. Had he done the right thing helping them? As soon as that thought came to him, he quickly dismissed it. Taking the bullet that night had been his only choice. He couldn't let Raine die. A tender smile curved his lips. Her reaction had surprised him. Concern and worry shone in her eyes. He couldn't remember the last time anyone cared about his welfare. Sure, Chance, Ryder, and Hunter cared, but they shared a bond of loyalty and brotherhood that was unbreakable. Their feelings were expected. Raine was an outsider. He barely knew her, and most of that was from what Sock told him. Why should she care what happened to him? A stranger?

There he went, thinking about her again. Raine was like all the rest. The concern and worry had been from her near death experience, not because he was shot. If he hadn't pushed her out of the way, she'd be six feet under. That was why she'd hovered over him. She felt guilty.

He made a concentrated effort to put her out of his mind, and wiggled his thumb again. He should pay more attention to what he was doing and stop thinking about mortals. They always got him into more trouble than they were worth.

“Maybe you should use that hammer on your head,” a deep voice spoke from behind him.

Dillon swung around, blinking from the sudden glare of bright light. It took a moment for the glowing image to come into focus and the brightness to fade.

A man sat on a pure white horse. The saddle was white and trimmed in silver, as was the bridle. He wore a white hat, white shirt, white jeans, and white chaps; even his boots were white. He didn't look at Dillon but rather the countryside as he drew in a deep breath of air. “I love the country,” he said.

“Who are you?” Dillon asked with more than a touch of suspicion. A demon in disguise? He braced himself. Kicking a demon's ass sounded pretty good right now.

The man stared. Dillon took a step back, gut twisting.
I
know
him!
It was a gut feeling, nothing else.

“I'm your father Tobiah,” he said.

Shock ran through him, but quickly died. He was surprised, that was all.
My
father.
The words kept repeating inside his head, but the connection wasn't there. He'd never even met the man. When Dillon was a kid he dreamed of coming face-to-face with his father, the angel who sired him. But as time passed, he grew tired of dreaming and he stopped wondering and waiting.

And he didn't care now. He strode to where his hammer lay and picked it up. “I have a father? I would never have guessed.” He marched past Tobiah and began the journey back to the cabin. He didn't say a word for the next mile, but he could hear the steady clop-clop of his father's horse following him.

What did the angel want? Dillon doubted Tobiah suddenly had a yearning to meet his son. Too much time stood between them. Sure, he knew Tobiah had authority over him and, when he went too far, the angel would block Dillon's powers. That was the only time he knew Tobiah existed.

And when Dillon needed his father most, Tobiah hadn't been there. It was the same for the other nephilim.

Until recently.

Chance met his father. The angel saved his life.

Ryder's father almost fried his son with a lightning bolt. Yeah, that was a heartwarming reunion. They hadn't actually met, but that was the closest Ryder came to seeing him.

Now Tobiah showed up. Why?

The steady clop-clop continued. The sound was getting on his nerves. He should've ridden his horse, but this morning when he started out, Dillon hoped the walk would blow off some of the energy inside him. It hadn't. Pounding on posts most of the day didn't make much of a difference either. Raine was in his thoughts the entire time.

Still the steady clop-clop was behind him. His mood didn't improve by the time he stopped in front of the tool shed. If anything, he was more pissed. He unlatched the door and swung it open so hard that when it hit the building, the top hinge popped loose and the door dropped down like an arthritic old man. Something else for him to fix. He tossed the hammer and leather tool belt into the shed and swung around.

Tobiah sat on his horse, leaning against the saddle horn as casual and unconcerned as though they knew each other well and he was there for a visit. The fury inside Dillon exploded.

“Why now? Just answer me that. Why not after I ran away from home? I was eleven years old and alone. I called out to you. Where were you then?” Time passed; he should've been over the rejection. He thought he was, but apparently it had only been dormant, waiting for this moment.

Dillon always felt as though pieces were missing from his life. After his mother died in an accident, his jealous aunt raised him. Once she found out an angel chose her younger sister rather than her, his life became a nightmare. So he ran away.

He met his father's unwavering gaze and asked again, “Where were you when I needed you most?”

“I was nearby, watching over you.”

“You saw my pain, and still chose to let me suffer? Angels are supposed to protect the innocent, not toss them out to fend for themselves.”

“You were never alone. I protected you the best way I could, by helping you learn how to survive.”

Pain gripped him. “Some nephilim didn't survive the demon warriors who hunted them.”

“Yes,” Tobiah agreed. “They came home. Their souls were never in jeopardy.”

“In other words, you let them die. Would you have let me die too?”

“Your existence wasn't my choice to make.”

“Yet, you're my father. What? Did you see my mother and decide to sleep with her because you were bored? A mortal would never be able to resist your charms. You took what you wanted, then walked away without giving a damn about what might happen to her.”

A dark light shone in Tobiah's eyes, telling Dillon he pushed too hard, but he didn't care. He wanted his father to feel some measure of the ache Dillon carried every day. As quickly as Tobiah's anger flared, it died.

“I loved your mother very much.”

He didn't really care what Tobiah felt. “Why have you waited so long to show yourself?”

Tobiah's smile was gentle. “Hours and seconds pass differently for us. A day is but a speck of time.”

“Why are you here?”

“Along with immortality, the nephilim inherited certain abilities. The angels look the other way when you bend the rules. There is more good inside our children than bad.”

Dillon cocked an eyebrow. “Are you reprimanding me for something? You may be watching over me, but I think I'm a little old to scold.” He snorted. “You might have fathered me, but you lost the right to tell me what to do. Time might not mean much to you, but it damn well did to me when I was a kid. I don't care what your reasons were for sleeping with my mother and creating a child, but as far as I'm concerned, you're a sperm donor, nothing more.”

He turned to walk away, but his feet suddenly went out from under him and his ass landed with a thud on the hard-packed ground. For a moment, he sat there in stunned silence, then slowly came to his feet, brushing off the dirt. He faced Tobiah. “You want to fight, then fight like a man.” He raised his fists, ready to relieve years of frustration.

Tobiah merely smiled, then glanced up at the sky. Dillon waited for him to get off the horse and take him up on the challenge. So what if Tobiah won; Dillon would still feel a hell of a lot better. Except Tobiah still looked at the sky. Dillon wondered what game he played. He finally lowered his fists and looked up.

A dark cloud hovered above him. What the hell? It burst open, pouring buckets of ice-cold water on top of his head. He jumped back, but he was already soaked. Deep, rumbling laughter followed.

“You think that's funny?” he yelled. He doubled his fists.

“That's what I like about the nephilim. You have the ability to feel so much emotion. You know how to live.”

“Step off your horse and I'll show you how we fight, too!”

“I can't stay. Unfortunately, we have strict rules that must be obeyed.” He suddenly smiled and Dillon felt as though he watched a commercial for whitening toothpaste. “You should meet my boss.”

Dillon couldn't stop the disappointment flowing through him. He shouldn't let the guy get under his skin. Even as he tried to tell himself that, he still wanted to know more about him. “Then why are you here?”

“Raine McCandless.”

He only thought the rain was cold as an arctic blast shot through his veins. Tobiah's words froze him in place. “What about her? She's okay, isn't she?”

“You changed her fate.”

“I kept her from dying. What was I supposed to do? Let her get shot?”

He shook his head. “She wouldn't have died.”

Dillon's eyes narrowed. “I felt pain in my chest.”

“You warned her. She isn't stupid. She wore her vest. The bullet wouldn't have killed her, only knocked her down from the force. She would have captured the bank robbers and been lauded as saving the day. You took all that away.”

He squared his shoulders. “Okay, so either way, she wouldn't have died. The outcome is the same.”

“Not quite.”

“What do you mean?”

“When she hit her head, the blow momentarily stunned her. The bank robbers escaped. She saw you lying on the floor with blood pouring from your chest and called for help. She told them a man was shot. When they asked who the man was, she was still feeling the effects of her injury and told them an angel saved her. When no one could find the
angel
, people began to question if it was all an elaborate hoax. They wondered if Raine and her grandfather had planned everything. Her grandfather is close to financial ruin, after all.”

“That's bull and they should know it. Raine and her grandfather would never rob the bank.”

“We know that, but the people living in town don't. She was forced into taking a temporary leave of absence until the case can be investigated.”

“It'll blow over. Everyone will realize their assumptions are ridiculous.” He stared at his father and saw a flicker of something he couldn't name. Regret, maybe? Then everything came together and Dillon understood what his father wasn't telling him. “You know what's going to happen, don't you?”

“The investigation will go against Raine and her grandfather. They'll be arrested. Her grandfather's heart won't be able to take the stress and he'll have a heart attack and die. Raine will be found guilty and sent to prison, where she will die. Other lives they touched will suffer.”

Frustration filled him. “I was answering an old man's prayer. What was I supposed to do? I thought she was going to be killed.” He wouldn't have done anything differently. He had to warn Raine about the robbery. Before Tobiah could say anything, Dillon continued. “Why didn't he ask for my help when they became suspects?”

“He did, but you blocked his prayers.”

“And Raine?”

His father grimaced, but his expression changed so fast, Dillon wondered if he might have been mistaken.

Tobiah's eyes softened. “Go to her, my son. She needs your help. Be gentle with her.”

Why did he feel there was something Tobiah wasn't telling him? Before he could ask, a blinding light surrounded him, then in a flash, the brightness was gone and Dillon was alone.