Destined to Reap (Reaping Fate Book 3) Read online

  “Agreed,” Wilcox said.

  “What’s changed?” Andrew asked, giving Wilcox a nudge farther into the room. The stubborn grouch complied by taking a seat on the couch next to me. Andrew sat down in a chair. “You weren’t very open to protection the last time we recommended it.”

  “You wanted to lock me up in a safe house right after a Praedator murdered a man in your protection,” I reminded him.

  “Damon Reed has become a problem,” Tristan interrupted before I put both detectives on the defense. “He’s pretty much narrowed Kiara down to being the Fáithsine. It also appears he’s discovered she can’t be compelled if I understand that correctly.”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “And Damon’s planning to confront me about this today.”

  “How do you know?” Wilcox asked.

  “Because he insinuated as much yesterday after lunch.”

  “You had lunch with this man knowing who he is?” Wilcox was back to massaging his head. Never a good sign.

  “Like I was a willing participant?” I asked.

  “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “Damon doesn’t want Kiara dead,” Tristan said.

  “What?” I jerked my head around to face the vampire. “What does he want then?”

  “That’s the part I’ve not yet figured out.”

  “What Kira needs is round-the-clock protection,” Wilcox said. “I will try—”

  “What Kiara needs,” I said, “is to go to work before I’m fired.”

  “Out of the question.” Wilcox leaned over until I had no choice except to look at him. “Your life is in danger, and you need to take this seriously.”

  “I do…” I sank back against the cushions with a sigh. “But I have rent and bills to pay. I can’t put a stop to my life simply because…”

  Shit.

  “We’ll figure out something, Kiara,” Andrew said.

  “How?” I asked. “A bodyguard is out of the question. I have strength, but that doesn’t mean much against magic. Hiding me will guarantee my death sentence, as I previously pointed out.”

  “We’ll figure out something, Kiara.”

  “You already said that.”

  Andrew’s shoulder lifted in a shrug as a smile tugged his lips. “But we will.”

  “I’m glad someone in this room has confidence.”

  My words only caused Andrew’s grin to widen. Suspect was strong the sneaky man was up to his plotting. That assumption did nothing to alleviate my raw nerves.

  “So explain to me how the two of you know each other,” Wilcox said.

  The two being Tristan and me. I glanced over at the other half in question. He stared back with an expression hinting at mischief. Not answering, that one. At least, not if I had any say. There were some things Wilcox didn’t need to know about me. Getting my ass kicked by paper was one.

  “How do you know him?” I asked Wilcox, deflecting.

  “He’s worked with the department on paranormal cases the last few years.”

  “Such as?”

  “Providing intel on less-than-human suspects.”

  Mouth gaped as I stared at Tristan. “You a narc?”

  “Doing my civic duty,” Tristan said, without even the barest hint of an eyebrow raised. No shame, that one.

  “So tell me, Mr. Clandestine, how is it that you work so well with our department’s finest without stepping a toe into the sunshine?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Do the supernatural bad guys only come out to play at night?” Because seriously, I knew there was a bogeyman hunting the alley where I’d first met Tristan. A thought struck, and I faced Wilcox. “Hey, you know Tristan, but you’d said all vampires…”

  The look on the vampire in question’s face caused the rest of my words to fail. Beside me, Wilcox stiffened. That drew me to only one conclusion.

  “They didn’t know?” I asked.

  “They do now, ma chérie.”

  “Ah, that explains things,” Andrew said, leaning his head back. Eyes closed. Appearing unperturbed. Wilcox, on the other hand, had a clenched jaw as he studied Tristan.

  “You really should do background checks on your informants, Detective.”

  I smiled. Wilcox didn’t.

  “Kiara, you’ve not yet said how you met Tristan.”

  Wilcox’s words had formed an oh-so-innocent sounding question except… his voice was on the wrong side of strained. I felt certain ten percent of the tension was due to me being on friendly terms with a member of the undead while eighty-five percent could be thanked for Wilcox’s larger-than-average ego not having caught on to the now obvious fact. The last five percent of whatever made his voice sound as if he was in the midst of bench pressing three hundred was up for debate.

  “Tristan witnessed my first attempt at sending a ghost to Hell,” I answered.

  “How did you do?” Andrew asked, eyes still closed. Mr. Laid-back really had that relaxation thing down pat. I needed a few lessons. Hadley needed a hundred.

  Tristan’s mouth opened, and I pointed a rigid finger in his direction. “Shut it. It’s irrelevant to the conversation for how I did.”

  “That bad, huh?” Andrew asked.

  “You, too,” I said, finger zipping toward his direction. Not that he noticed. “Let’s get back to real issues.”

  “Such as your protection,” Wilcox said. “Tristan’s help is out of the question now that I understand his previous avoidance to meeting during the daytime.”

  “I meant more like me going to work,” I said. “Those dings you keep hearing on my phone are from my boss demanding my presence.”

  “I told you, you’re not going today.”

  “And I told you I’ve got bills to pay and need my job.”

  “You are welcome to return after a powerful coven has decided you are no longer of interest.”

  “Just arrest Damon and lock him up. Problem solved.”

  “Warlocks aren’t easy to keep locked up,” Andrew interjected.

  “Not helpful.” I stood. Shrugging out of my leather jacket, it became a limp pile on top of the couch cushion where moments before my butt had sat. My sword and harness followed. That left me in a sleeveless blouse and skirt as I walked directly toward the closed door adjacent to Tristan’s bedroom.

  “Don’t forget to pivot on that right hook,” Tristan called out.

  I was more than willing to show the man my right hook thanks to the frustrated mood my less-than-stellar circumstances had placed me in. Two-inch heels clicked against the wooden steps as I climbed. Reaching the next floor, I kicked off my shoes, grabbed some boxing gloves, and faced my opponent.

  A seventy-pound bag was my current adversary. He kicked my butt, as usual, but not before I got in some great right hooks, along with a few left. Several upper cuts. Then there were the jabs. Finally, the exhaustion.

  Turning, I found the steady gaze of Wilcox on me. His leaning stance against a wall, casual. His dark eyes, intense. “Tristan’s right. You do need to work on that pivot.”

  Hopeful was I that my glare translated into eat shit and die, but I couldn’t guarantee my attempted success. Especially since Wilcox remained standing upright and not lying prone on the ground.

  Ripping off the gloves, I tossed them to the side before sinking my weary body down onto the mat. Wilcox walked over and sat beside me.

  “I’m only concerned about your safety,” he said.

  “I know, I get it. It just… sucks.” I sighed. “For one second, think about how you’d feel if you were being told to hit the pause button on your life and go into hiding?”

  “We’re not going to force you into hiding.”

  “But I’m not free, either.” I pounded a closed fist against the mat. “This pisses me off. This is my life, not Damon’s, but right now he’s getting to call the shots.”

  Wilcox’s arm snaked around me, and he tugged me against him. “Damon won’t be calling any shots. We’ll keep you protected from him.”

  I s
nuggled against Wilcox’s chest because sometimes… sometimes it was nice to have someone else to lean on. “But my life doesn’t get to be mine right now.”

  “You won’t have any life—”

  “Understood,” I said, cutting him off. “I understand the consequences, but I don’t have to like it.”

  Wilcox sighed. “No, you don’t.”

  “And I get to have a say in any decision made about me.”

  A smile tugged at Wilcox’s lips. The first since he’d entered through Tristan’s front door. “You are the most hard-headed—”

  “And don’t forget disagreeable.”

  “You will be part of the discussion, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get your way. Your safety takes priority.”

  “You’re stubborn.”

  A burst of laughter erupted from the detective, and for a man who appeared to not laugh a lot, it left a feeling of warmth inside me.

  “Andrew has a plan,” a voice said.

  I looked up to find Tristan standing at the top of the stairs. “You overheard the part where I said I get some say, right?”

  “Then you’d better get that cute ass of yours downstairs and get vocal, ma chérie.” Tristan disappeared.

  Wilcox’s previous smile had tightened into a scowl as he stared at the spot the vampire had vacated.

  “Come on, stubborn man.” I let Wilcox pull me to my feet. “Tristan and I spar. Trust me, you don’t want to get into it with him, especially with that vampire speed he’s got going on.”

  “How well do you two know each other, again?”

  I gave him a soft jab in the ribs as an answer and then went downstairs. My bout of frustration had been pounded out of me by the time I returned below. Andrew was on the phone while Tristan was seated with legs crossed at the ankles, arms across his chest. A hint of disgruntlement flashed across the vampire’s handsome features.

  “Not accustomed to a home invasion?” I guessed.

  “I prefer my solitude.”

  “Aw, poor baby.”

  The glare Tristan shot me wasn’t his usual sexual flirtation. Quite the opposite, actually, and I grinned.

  Andrew clicked off his call. “Kiara, tell me everything you do for your boss.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “Like answering her phone and helping new clients fill out the initial questionnaire?”

  “Who are the clients you’re working with and is answering the phone all you do?”

  “There are two clients I’m having to spend a lot of time helping Maude with right now. The others only need routine background checks. I follow some of them around a bit so Maude can fabricate some sort of psychic revelation, and general greetings whenever they arrive at the office for an appointment.”

  “Who are the two clients you’re working with?”

  “Desiree Hurst and Natalie Bennett,” I said. “And speaking of Natalie, I have to plan her entire wedding starting with the formal engagement dinner in two weeks because Maude didn’t like any of the event planners I selected for her to hire.”

  “Perfect,” Andrew said, punching numbers into his phone before getting back onto another call.

  I looked over at Wilcox, who gave me a slight nod. The man apparently knew where Andrew was going with this. I wished I did.

  “Kiara,” Andrew said after ending his latest phone call, “text your boss that you’re working on the Bennett wedding and you’ll have a surprise tomorrow that’ll make her day.”

  “Sorry if I remain a bit doubtful,” I said, scrolling through the forty texts from Maude on my cell phone that went from less-than-pleased to your-job-is-on-the-line in a matter of minutes. I responded with Andrew’s request before looking back up. “Done. Now, what is this miraculous event that will save my job and force a smile onto Maude’s overly botoxed face?”

  “Your bodyguard will arrive at Fated Match first thing in the morning,” Andrew said. “Ty, I’m heading back to the station.”

  “Bodyguard? We discussed this.” I glanced at Wilcox. “Where are you going?”

  “With you,” Wilcox said. “Trust Andrew on this.”

  I wasn’t trusting anything at the moment. “What can some man, who I’m no doubt stronger than, do that I can’t?”

  “Not strength. Magic.” Wilcox took my arm and ushered me toward the door. “We’ll fight magic with magic. Where do you want to go?”

  “Home.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Not with you.”

  “Too bad.”

  The slam of the door behind us as Tristan sought to regain his peace and quiet indicated that it was, in fact, too bad.

  For me.

  Chapter 6

  I had lots of questions when unexpectedly bringing a man home.

  Had I taken out the trash or was a funky odor emanating from the kitchen? Was all my dirty underwear tucked out of sight in the laundry basket or littering my bedroom floor? What was Wilcox going to think about the cheap, ratty furnishings in my rundown apartment?

  My cheeks felt hot as I pondered the uncertainties during the short walk back to my place, but the stubborn tightness of the detective’s jawline indicated that any attempts to ditch the man would be futile. Facts were, on the willful scale, Wilcox out-stubborned me. That was a first.

  “Don’t expect much,” I said, entering my apartment. “You know, now that you’ve seen me safely home, you can return to work. I’m sure there are important matters that need your attention.”

  Wilcox nudged his way inside. Forced, really. Well, so much for the hope that he’d leave me be. Shutting the front door behind him, I turned and faced… man. Lots of muscular male flesh covered in a crisp, business suit. Still drool-worthy, of course. Wilcox seemed to fill the small, cramped space of my living room. Realization that this was the first time I’d truly been alone with him wasn’t lost on me. I gulped as fire lit every nerve inside my body.

  “Damon might stop by here after realizing you’re not showing up for work today.”

  Ice doused my overheated skin upon hearing that particular name. “And if he does, how do you expect to stop his nefarious plans?”

  Wilcox’s jaw re-clenched while the corners of his lips tilted down. Different from his macho-male stubbornness jaw clench. The look he now displayed meant he didn’t have an answer. I’d already picked up on the man’s many non-verbal communication cues.

  Instead of answering the questions he couldn’t, the detective walked over to my couch and took a seat on the lumpy cushions. “Please don’t tell me you own only chick flicks?”

  Glancing from my pathetic excuse for a television to my meager DVD collection, I asked, “Batman, Matrix, Bourne, or Rocky?”

  His head tilted back, face staring up at the ceiling. “Thank God, no Legally Blonde.”

  “Oh, I’ve got that, too,” I said, grinning. “Along with Magic Mike, if you prefer.”

  “Rocky,” he said. “I’ll take one of the Rocky movies.”

  Popping in the DVD, I settled in beside him. Damn the couch was small. Or Wilcox was large. I wasn’t certain which.

  Sliding a side glance in my direction, Wilcox asked, “So you spar with Tristan?”

  “Don’t make me think you’re jealous, Detective.”

  “I’m only—”

  “Shh. I’ll miss learning how to pivot into my punches.”

  With a shake of his head, Wilcox turned back to the movie. The afternoon wore on, and the more time that passed without Damon either calling me or showing up on my front doorstep, the more relaxed I became. Wilcox proved to be a talker. His running commentary as we moved through the series of movies showed there was a humorous side of him buried underneath his hard layers of austerity—albeit a dry humor that could, at times, border on the inappropriate. Which made me laugh all the more.

  Fun was what I’d felt. Then my stomach rumbled. Or was it his?

  “Pizza?” Wilcox asked.

  “Are you paying?”

  The expression on his f
ace softened. “Yes.”

  “Then yes, pizza sounds good.” Checking Account smiled on my behalf—it was having a rough day due to the unscheduled no pay.

  Of course, I had readily approved our dinner selection prior to a debate over toppings. Fifteen minutes later, and me getting my way with allowing two selections of vegetables to reside along with the meat so I could count it as my weekly veggie intake, the order was placed. Thirty minutes after that, the food was consumed at a fast rate of speed. A couple of hours later, our marathon had finally concluded.

  Stretching, I glanced at the time on my phone. “Crap, it’s after eleven o’clock.”

  Heat that only I noticed flooded the room as Hellhound materialized. He’d gotten in the habit of spending his days hanging around with HG, but he still made a show every evening for bed. The beast’s large jaws froze mid-yawn as he caught sight of Wilcox. One sniff later, Wilcox was apparently beast-approved because the hound plopped down in the middle of the living room floor—aka: his bedroom—and his eyes slammed shut. Only I seemed to pay attention to the small earthquake his massive body generated from a single plop.

  “Thanks for my protection today, Detective, but I’m going to bed,” I said as I got to my feet. Although, I wasn’t exactly certain what sort of defense the man could offer. He had been great company during my unplanned confinement, however. That definitely counted for something.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Wait—what?” I’d been halfway to the door to open it for him, but his statement caused my sudden halt. “What do you mean?”

  “Until Andrew tells me you’re protected, you’re not leaving my sight.”

  His jaw went back to doing that macho-male thing. Damn. Walking back to the couch, I stood over him with legs planted and arms crossed. “Don’t think you’re climbing into my bed without even a date, mister.”

  “What? The pizza didn’t count?”

  “Ha ha—wait. You’re joking right?”