Not yet. Not until he understood what he’d
seen tonight.
He scowled at the relief that flooded his
system, wanting to purge the remnants of the human causing it. He consoled
himself with the reminder. His goal had been delayed. Not changed. He’d waited
for her before. He could wait again.
He didn’t have a plan. Didn’t know what the
next step would be and certainly didn’t like the ambiguity of allowing an
unstable, suicidal cop to make the calls. But the reaper recognized danger when
he saw it, and left without choices, he’d do what he had to do. And when it
came time, he would reap Roxanne
Love.
The pledge echoed in his head as he turned
west and headed for the hotel he’d checked into the night before, using Santo’s
credit card to pay for the room. A few minutes later, he parked in the lot and
shut off the engine. In the sudden quiet, he gazed at the unmoving woman
sprawled on the seat, limp and unresponsive.
Her skin looked like pearl against the hue
of his fingers. He brushed his knuckles over her cheek, fascinated by the
contrast in their color, by the silken feel of her. He couldn’t look away as he
willed her to take a breath. To open her eyes.
She’d gone to the darkness without him there
to meet her. Was she afraid? Did she search for him?
“Come back to me,” he whispered.
Gently, he traced his fingertips along the
curve of her jaw, then the pad of his thumb across that full bottom lip.
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