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The driver keeps looking at me in the rearview mirror, as if I’ve lost it completely.
I can’t blame him. I came skidding back nearly throwing myself in the car yelling for him to go, to drive, to get the hell out of dodge—right now.
I think we were moving even before I got the door closed, leaving a path of dust and dirt.
Sam pants next to me and I turn just in time to catch Michael stepping on the lawn. Even with the building distance, I gulp at the glare in his eyes. He’s coming after me.
In resignation, I lay my head against the seat, going over my options. I’m not sure if CJ will back me up on this. Not when I’ve closed his only contact with our parents. I run my hand over my face and lean forward.
“Instead of the address on Roaring Rock, please take me to 375 River Road.”
“Yes, sir.” He glances at me again with a nod.
I calm my raw nerves by stroking Sam’s head. She huffs that heavy sigh like she did that first day, and I give her a gentle pat before continuing the calming stroke, from between her ears down to below her collar.
Lucifer’s on the loose.
That thought keeps pinging into my consciousness, bringing with it a fear that my coming home might put those I love in the crosshairs between two angry angels. The dark scenery passes and I catch my reflection in the window every time a streetlight passes. My stubble has transitioned to scruff over the last few days, and my hair is almost as long as it was when I left, ten years ago. The lines at the corner of my eyes are more pronounced, but outside of those faint crow’s feet, I look pretty much the same as I did the day I picked up Sam from that animal shelter.
When we pull into the driveway, a car is parked in the carport, but the house is dark, like it should be at two in the morning. The agency name catches my attention and I pause staring at it over the top of the car. Ryan-O’Keefe. At least she kept my name on the marquis.
I shook my head to focus and leaned into the car, grabbing the end of Sam’s leash along with my backpack before handing the driver a sizeable tip for driving me all over creation.
With Sam in tow, I cross to the front door. I no longer have keys, so I close my eyes, disengaging the locks. Stepping inside feels a little like I am trespassing, and as soon as I latch and lock the door behind me, I turn back to what used to be the reception area.
Shock fills ever cell. The old entry, along with what used to be my office, is open and decorated like a living area and not an office. The door to Damian’s office is still intact and I debate on which direction to go.
The comfortable looking couch won the coin toss in my head and I cross, setting my bag down, and fall onto the soft fabric. Sam stretched out on the floor next to me. She really didn’t have a choice, either. I am not going to let her snoop around the rest of the house and scare the bejesus out of Bridget.
I close my eyes hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before I’m thrown to the curb.
* * * *
A PIERCING SCREAM SLAYS my dream, bolting me into a sitting position. My hand instinctively tightens, grasping the leash before Sam has a chance to lunge at whatever vibrated my eardrums to the point of pain.
A very pretty, blonde girl with wide blue eyes is frozen in place as much as I am. I expected Bridget to find me here, not a girl who could be...
My eyes widen as Bridget slides into place next to the screaming girl. A pistol is trained in my direction, in hands that shake from pure adrenaline. My gaze jumps between Bridget and the girl next to her and the relation is clear. I am looking at Bridget’s daughter.
The gun is slowly lowered as recognition sets in. “Tom?”
It’s the girl’s turn to level a surprised look in Bridget’s direction. “You know him?” she balks and waves in my direction.
“Yes. From a long time ago,” she says to her daughter. “April, this is Tom Ryan. Tom, my daughter April.”
“Ryan, as in the name on the sign?”
Bridget nods. “Go. You’ll be late for the bus,” she says and points towards the door.
April gives me a wary look and then disappears. The door opens and closes a moment later and I stare at Bridget.
“This is Sam,” I say, remembering I have a dog attached to my arm.
Bridget doesn’t even look. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” She flips the safety on her gun and crosses the room, dropping it on the coffee table as she passes by. Bridget stands with her back to me, waiting until the bus pulls away with April safely on board.
“Well?” she asks as she turns and levels a cold glare in my direction.
“I finished closing the portals.”
“Big fucking deal.”
Sam whines and paws my leg, her sign that she needs to go out.
“I’ll be right back,” I say and get an eye roll in return. I let Sam out and stand at the door, watching while she does her business. A low whistle calls her back inside and I return to the couch, unsure if I should sit down or just go, and while it would be easy to dive into her mind to find out the answers to the questions swirling in my head, I leave well enough alone.
She would probably pop a cap in my ass if she caught me snooping in her head.
I gave her a small smile. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” I say in barely a whisper.
She moves across the room and stops in front of me before she shoves me with everything she has. I stumble back a step and Sam growls. I give my dog the hand signal for stay, but that doesn’t stop the menacing rumble coming from her.
“You’re sorry?” Her voice is feral along with the anger boiling in her eyes. “You left, and didn’t even bother to answer any of my calls or texts. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead.”
The next time she goes to shove me I grab her wrists.
“I screwed up. With you, with everything,” I say to soften her anger. Now that our skin is touching, the emotional turmoil pounding in her chest travels into me just as acutely. Her aura flares with it. “And if I picked up the phone and heard your voice, I would have turned my ass around.”
She tries to break free of my grip, but I keep hold, making her meet my eyes.
“Let go,” she says through clenched teeth.
I drop my hands away.
“Why are you here?” she asks again, but this time there’s less bite to the question.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” I say and look around with a shrug. “This is the closest thing I’ve got to home.” I make a point to look at her when I speak.
“This is my home. You need to go book a hotel, because you cannot stay here.”
I give a nod and sigh. “I gather you’re married now?” I hook my thumb towards the door where her daughter went.
Bridget hesitates looking beyond me and back. She shakes her head and laughs, looking at the ceiling. “No, Tom. I never got married.”
I raise my eyebrows as a dawning idea blooms. “How old is she?”
“She turns ten in July.”
My brain runs the calculation and I glance towards the door again. That’s when it strikes me. Her daughter’s aura was bright. Bright enough to indicate angel blood and my gaze snaps to Bridget’s.
I stumble into the nearest seat just gawking at her.
“The answer to your question is yes. She’s yours, but you have no right to be in our lives, not after abandoning us for so long.”
I’m too stunned to speak. That familiar numbness takes over, as if all my synapses are not able to handle the emotional swirl in my stomach and I run my hands into my hair, lowering my elbows to my knees.
“I fucked up again,” I say very quietly, and the full scope of what this means hits like a bulldozer. “Lucifer is locked topside.” I look up at Bridget. “And so is Michael.”
“Michael who?” Her arms cross.
I lean back. “The archangel. And both of them want to kick my ass.”
“They’ll have to get in line,” she says.
I rise to my feet and cross, stopping in front of her. “Bri...”
“You don’t get to call me that!” Her outburst is followed by the sting of her hand on my cheek. Sam growls in response but I keep Bridget’s angry gaze.
There’s only one way to make her understand and I grab her face in my palms, pressing my lips to hers before she can react. She struggles, but I push the past ten years into her mind and at the same time siphon her memories. Her struggles cease and she opens her mouth to tell me to stop, but the moment our tongues intertwine, her hands slide up my chest. The warmth of her surrounds me, but it’s only temporary. When I pull away, tears swim in her eyes, and she pushes off me, distancing herself.
“You can’t do that,” she whispers and her voice shakes. “You can’t fuck with my head like that.”
“Bri,” I whisper. “You kept me alive, just as much as Sam did.”
“Don’t,” she points at me.
“I’m sorry, but I left to keep you safe.”
“Bullshit! You didn’t do it for me. You did it for you.”
I look beyond her out the window, analyzing her accusation. “You’re right. I did it so I wouldn’t have to see you murdered at the hands of Lucifer.”
Sam nudges my hand and whines. I point to the floor. “Lie down,” I say, meeting my dog’s worried stare. “I’m okay, just lie down.” I clarify when she doesn’t move.
She lowers to the floor, keeping her eyes on me.
“I did it so I wouldn’t be put in the position of sacrificing myself for you.” Admitting the selfishness of my actions is humbling, and I slide my hands in my pockets, letting out a soft laugh as I study the floor. “Because that’s what I would have done if he got hold of you. I would have let him rip my heart out, because it wouldn’t matter anymore.”
I look up, meeting her skeptical gaze and throw a shrug her way.
“You are so full of shit.” She remains planted in place.
She had my memories. She knew I wasn’t bullshitting her, but I also knew the depth of how hurt she was. I’d crushed her spirit when I left. She opened up to me that night, letting me see her deepest fears, her darkest times and I slipped away in the dead of night with only a few words scribbled on paper as an explanation. I took the coward’s way out.
“I still care, Bri.” She shakes her head at my admission and instead of arguing with her, I look around at the modifications to the house bathed in daylight. “I like what you’ve done to my office,” I say, avoiding her stark stare.
“Tom, you can’t stay here,” she says. “I can’t have you anywhere near April.”
I close my eyes and nod, and the emptiness creeps back in, but I understand. Affiliating with me is a death sentence, at least while Lucifer walks the earth. “Okay.”
I turn to leave, picking up my bag.
“Tom,” she whispers and I glance over my shoulder at her. “I stopped caring a while ago.”
I huff a laugh. “You’re as bad a liar as I am.” I don’t wait for a response, instead I snap my fingers and Sam is at my side. I cross the threshold into the cool morning air with no clue of where to go next.