Raintree: Haunted (Raintree 2)

He rose up to look down at her. “I don’t want us to screw this up.”

She closed her eyes and held him close. “Than let’s not. Please.”

There wasn’t a lot to say, so they lay there, connected and touching and content. He was so rarely content.

“What you said earlier today,” Hope said, her voice quick and a little shy. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

“What did I say?” So much…not enough…

She raked her fingers along his neck. “Monsters.”

“Oh.” Not what he wanted to talk about at the moment.

“If there are monsters in the world—”

“There are, and you know it,” he interrupted.

“If there are,” she said again.

Gideon nuzzled her throat and kissed it. Now was not the time to argue.

“My mother’s always talking about balance. Balance of nature, of male and female, even of good and evil. I used to dismiss that along with everything else, but she’s beginning to make sense, darn it. And when you talk about monsters, I think…if the good gives up, then where will we be?”

“What’s so good?”

“You,” she answered without hesitation. “Us. Emma. Love. I think that’s worth fighting for. I think maybe it’s worth the occasional battle with a monster.”

He fought monsters because it was his calling. His destiny. He didn’t want his family to have to fight with him, but it was apparently the price he would have to pay in order to keep them.

Tabby sat in her apartment and carefully studied the package on the counter in the kitchenette. She disliked bombs. Not only were they unpredictable, they made it impossible for her to be close enough to drink in the fear of her victims. One minute they were alive, the next they were gone. No power, no souvenirs.

But she couldn’t be picky at the moment. Time was running out.

She couldn’t fail. Maybe she’d missed Echo, but Gideon was the one Cael thought of as most important to her mission. He was next in line for Dranir, a member of the royal family. He was a powerful Raintree, and his execution was necessary. Echo would be hers soon enough.

This bomb wouldn’t kill Raintree, but it would draw him into the open. She would be waiting.

It was possible that Cael would still consider her mission a failure, since she hadn’t killed Echo first, as planned. If her cousin were anyone else in the world, she would simply run from him when the time came. She could change her looks, change her name and take up where she’d left off. Training for this assignment had been more pleasurable than she’d imagined. It was a big country, filled with lonely people who would not be missed and sadistic little men who never dared to act on their own but were wonderfully violent when prodded.

She had become very good at prodding. If Cael didn’t kill her for missing Echo, she would continue with her work after the battle was over. Maybe he would be so pleased by the act she was about to commit that he would even forgive her.

As long as she delivered Gideon Raintree’s head to Cael—figuratively speaking, unfortunately—all would be well.

When she woke in Gideon’s bed alone, Hope thought for a moment that it had all been a dream. Emma, Dennis, bucket seats

and her foolishly uttered I love you. None of it was real.

But she realized soon enough that none of it had been a dream. The drapes were open, which meant Gideon was on the deck or the beach. Since it was morning, there wouldn’t be a light show of any kind. Pity.

She went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and pulled on one of Gideon’s old T-shirts. It hung almost to her knees. He’d already made coffee—a quarter of the pot was gone—so she poured herself a cup and joined him on the deck. A few people were already on the beach, walking along the sand and getting their feet wet in the gentle waves.

Gideon was standing at the railing, looking out to the ocean as if he drew strength from it. Maybe he did. There was so much she didn’t know about the man she had fallen in love with. Last night in bed they had laughed and made love, but this morning Gideon was serious again. His face looked as if it could be set in stone, it was so hard and unforgiving.

She knew the heart beneath that hard exterior. Hard? Sometimes. Unforgiving? Yes, when forgiveness wasn’t appropriate. Nonexistent? Never.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, leaning on the rail beside him.

He didn’t dance around the issue. “I want you to quit work, and I don’t think you will.”