Relentless Flame (Hell to Pay) Read online

  “May I?”

  She pointed at the crusty blood on his face and in his matted hair. When he nodded, she wet some napkins and stood on the running board between his long legs. She dabbed at the blood, removing most of the crusts and wiping clean the remaining shallow cuts. Dante sighed deeply and leaned forward, thick forearms resting on his knees.

  Relaxed, he appeared younger, like the weight of the world had lifted off his shoulders. She swiped the napkin over his forehead, moving a bit of hair from his brow. Over his chin, his cheekbones. Over his lips that were not too full but sensual. Over the thick jaw muscles.

  Rested, she easily maintained the block against another transfer. So she gave over to the simple pleasure of touching his skin.

  He had stood up to those guys to keep her safe. Didn’t run. Didn’t abandon her. Tears pricked her eyes, but she kept on washing his injuries.

  She bit her lower lip, concentrating to get the last bit of blood off a nasty gash on his temple. It had healed into a puckered pink line already. She pulled the damp napkin through his matted hair, tugging at the dried blood. His hair, a bit longer than most guys wore it, glinted in the light. She drew each strand through, cleaning it.

  When her breathing sped up, she met his gaze.

  Black, intense eyes in the shadows.

  How long had he been staring at her?

  Stark hunger etched his features with hard lines from the slash of his eyebrows to his clenched jaw. The warmth radiating from him rose several degrees, yet she shivered.

  “Come here.”

  He snaked his muscled arm around her waist and pulled her close, capturing her lips in a kiss. His other hand cupped the back of her neck. Now at equal height, he held her to him, kissing her lips, cheeks, and temples. She shivered when his lips slid down to her collarbone.

  The water and napkin dropped onto the ground as Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck. His shoulder muscles bunched when he buried his hand in her hair and tugged her head back. He arched her to him and nipped at her neck, tickling her with his rough stubble. When her knees threatened to buckle, he clamped his corded thighs onto her hips.

  Sliding his rough palms up under her shirt, he grazed the sensitive skin on her lower back, making her shiver even more. With both hands encircling her waist, he slowly rubbed his hands up and down while kissing her. His hot palms heated her core as he traced her belly.

  Every muscle in her body tensed, and not with pleasure but with damned fear again.

  No more.

  No more of Ray’s past actions controlling her life now. Dante wasn’t Ray. Dante hadn’t hurt her. She deserved more than the shadow of a life she’d been living for the past several years. She deserved happiness, and if it came in the form of an overly protective giant of a man, so much the better.

  When he entered her mouth with his tongue, warmth flooded her body, and she met his kisses. He smoothed his hands up to cup her shoulders, raising her shirt. The cool air on her back warred with his toasty legs locked around her hips and his heated mouth relentlessly opening her to him. It couldn’t be real. Not for her. It was a heck of a dream, though, and she didn’t want to wake up.

  Headlights and the crunch of gravel plunged them back into reality. A car engine revved.

  Had the police found them? Brandon?

  When Dante shoved her top down and leapt in front of her, she grabbed the back of his shirt for support. The ropey muscles of his back tensed beneath her hands as he leaned forward. The tremors incapacitating her had nothing to do with the cool night air. Her tight breaths speared through her chest. There wasn’t enough air.

  Who was out there?

  Chapter 10

  “Who’s there?” Dante yelled, holding his arm up against the glare of headlights.

  “Aw, crap. I thought we had the place to ourselves.” The lights abruptly shut off, leaving Hannah blind for a moment. “Taylor, get back in the car, baby, we’ve gotta leave. My bad, man.”

  The door slammed, lights flashed on, and the car spun backward and away.

  Hannah dropped her forehead into Dante’s back, let out a sigh, and laughed.

  “I agree.” He drew her in front of him to rest his chin on the crown of her head. “Well, that pretty much cements it; we should concentrate on what to do next. Staying out here isn’t an option.”

  Warmth seeped from his arms encircling her, and she pressed her cheek to his chest before stepping back.

  “You’re right, but I’m not sure what to do. I don’t want to go back to the rental and Scott and his ... friends. I’d rather you leave me here instead.”

  “Well, that’s not going to happen. I am not driving away without you in the car with me.”

  She had no right to ask him for more help. He’d done far more for her than anyone ever had. “Yes, but—”

  He growled. “I won’t take you back there.”

  “But I don’t have any place to go.” Tears burned behind her lids. “No one’s left.”

  “I’m here.”

  Her heart twisted, and she averted her gaze to collect herself. Although she wanted him to fold her into his arms, thankfully he held back. If he so much as touched her now, she’d fall to pieces.

  Another few shaky breaths later, she’d pulled her emotions back from the breaking point.

  Opening the front passenger door, he helped her in, came around to the driver’s side, and started the car. The dashboard lights illuminated his face in an eerie blue glow. He gripped the leather steering wheel and stared into the night for a full minute.

  He banged his fist on the dashboard, and then after a moment, he said, “Okay. We’re going to La Grande,” and put the vehicle into reverse.

  “Pardon?”

  “La Grande, Oregon. An old friend of mine lives there with his wife. She’s a doctor. She can check out your injuries as well.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Sure you are. But she can double-check. Besides, Peter will have an idea about what we should do.”

  “We can’t just drop in.”

  “It’ll be okay. Besides, ol’ Petey owes me.” He grinned at Hannah, and her heart flopped over. “He wouldn’t have a wife if it weren’t for me!”

  Humming, as though he hadn’t been almost dead an hour ago, he pulled back onto the frontage road and then onto I-84. In the warm car, exhaustion claimed her, and she drifted into a pleasant, dreamless sleep.

  • • •

  The morning sun broke over the Wallowa Mountains right as Dante turned onto a familiar county road east of La Grande, Oregon. He’d driven this rural route every day for two weeks to check on Allie after Peter’s disappearance a year ago, when she’d been recovering from horrific injuries she’d sustained from an attack by Jerahmeel’s former minion.

  When Peter had returned, he had been human. Somehow, he had broken the eternal contract, gotten the Meaningful Kill. Then Peter had asked Allie to stay with him until the end of his mortal life, and she had agreed.

  Just like that, Dante had become unnecessary as a watchman—and a colossal third wheel. So he’d done the only reasonable thing he knew to stay busy. He’d taken off on vicious quota runs, killing hundreds of criminals, providing needed distraction. Things were fine. Until Philadelphia.

  He rubbed his chin and glanced at a sleeping Hannah, her head turned toward him as it rested on her shoulder. Fading bruises still stood out in cruel blotches against her fair skin. He squeezed the steering wheel to keep from touching her soft face.

  Who would’ve thought? Raymond Jackson. The kill that changed everything. The kill that led Dante to Hannah.

  Speaking of whom, she stirred and stretched, freezing as her eyes flew open.

  “What?” His heart thudded as he scanned for new injuries.

  “Sore! Everything hurts.”

  His heart melted as she scrunched her button nose.

  “Wow, what a bad night.” She pressed the knob to raise the back of the seat.

  Dante cleared his
throat. “Maybe not all of it was bad.”

  He treated himself to the vision of her cheeks glowing pink as she intently studied the morning scenery out the front windshield. He’d rather study the scenery inside the vehicle.

  “It’s pretty here,” she said.

  “Sure is. Nice mountains. Quiet town. They even have a university here.”

  “Really? I’d love to go to college in a place like this.”

  He wanted to know more. “What degree would you get?”

  “I’ve always been interested in psychology. Maybe counseling. I like helping people.” She ducked her head.

  Unable to help himself, he rested his hand on her shoulder for a second. “You’d be great at it.”

  “I need to get back on track. I was taking courses at the community college until, um, we moved.” Swallowing, she turned her head away.

  Cold dread lodged in his throat. At some point, he’d have to tell her the whole story about killing Ray and why, but Dante couldn’t do it yet. Not now. Not when every tenuous support had been pulled out from under her.

  What an excuse.

  “Ah, here we go.” He steered the Hummer onto the lane, the pleasant crunch of gravel coming from beneath the tires. Allie’s and now Peter’s house, a welcoming craftsman ranch, backed up to the base of a low ridge.

  “What a nice place.”

  “I agree. You’ll like my friends, too.”

  As Dante parked, a dark-haired man clad in jeans and a polo shirt emerged from the house. If their unexpected arrival surprised Peter, his old friend didn’t show it.

  Dante groaned as he unfolded his stiff limbs from the driver’s seat.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Peter rubbed his chin and studied Dante.

  Dante had forgotten about the bloodstained clothing and the cuts and bruises.

  “I feel much better than I look,” he said, getting out of the car.

  “You always did have a hard head.” Peter walked to the side of the vehicle.

  Dante clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Peter, bro, how’s it going?” He pulled back. “Hey, you’re finally getting gray hair!”

  “Don’t remind me.” Peter smiled. “I’ve got new aches and pains, too. The price I had to pay was worth it.” He shrugged. “If you look past those bruises ruining your pretty face, you’re still the picture of health.”

  “What did you expect? I’m a specimen.” Damn, it hurt when he flexed and postured.

  At a small noise, Dante turned to Hannah. She hovered near the front of the car, shoulders hunched.

  Before Dante could open his mouth, Peter stepped up with an amiable grin and shook her hand.

  “I’m Peter Blackstone. Nice to meet you.”

  “Hannah Banks.” She frowned and glanced between them. “You two have the same last name. Are you ... related?”

  Peter glanced at Dante with a silent question.

  Dante gave a small shake of his head, praying his friend would get the hint.

  Peter smiled. “Related in a manner of speaking. Would you like to come in?”

  As they approached the door, a giant mass of light brown, barking joy careened through the entrance, its hindquarters hitting the doorframe with a loud thwack. Dante sped around behind Hannah as the Great Dane mix launched at her. He caught her as she staggered backward with a cry.

  “Ivy! Down!” Peter yelled.

  The dog immediately dropped, her tail beating a tattoo into the walkway. Her tongue lolled in a big doggie grin.

  “Bad Ivy,” Peter said.

  Ivy pressed her lower jaw to her paws and gazed dolefully at Hannah, tail still wagging. After setting Hannah back on her feet, Dante released his hands from around her thin shoulders.

  “Your dog seems nice,” she said.

  “She’s a giant nightmare.” Peter grimaced.

  When Hannah offered her hand, Ivy sat up and sniffed until satisfied. Then the dog licked her hand, stood, and leaned her jowls against Hannah’s hip with a sigh. Ivy’s eyes rolled back as Hannah petted the dog’s massive head.

  Peter groaned. “Hedonistic dog.”

  “Hey, do I smell bacon?” Dante said.

  “Speaking of hedonist.”

  “Epicurean, Petey. I’m a connoisseur of fine food.”

  “Of all food. In large quantities.”

  “Point taken. So …?” He patted his muscled belly.

  “Come on in. Ivy, come here.” The big dog trotted after Peter.

  The aroma of fresh bacon, eggs, and coffee made Dante weak in the knees. Allie, beautiful as ever, her long, brown hair pulled into a clip, was fixing breakfast, with an expression of concentration and anxiety. She took a few steps toward him, awkward with her large belly.

  Allie, pregnant?

  “Hi, Dante!”

  Allie gave him a sideways hug.

  “What the heck happened?” Dante pointed at her very pregnant stomach.

  Peter cleared his throat while Allie blushed. Peter draped one arm around her shoulders, beamed down at his wife, and then pinned Dante with a wry grin.

  “I would’ve thought you knew how these things work,” Peter said dryly. “With your background growing up on a farm and so forth.”

  Hannah hid a smile behind her hand.

  Dante started to sweat in earnest. “Yes, well, I know how it works, of course, yes. But with … I didn’t realize it was possible.”

  “My friend, why don’t you sit down and have breakfast?”

  Peter laughed as Dante slumped, defeated, into a kitchen chair.

  Allie stepped up, her physician’s gaze assessing Hannah. All in the space of a second. Then she offered her hand.

  “Hi, I’m Al.”

  When their hands touched, Allie winced and shot a glance at Peter, who also cringed. Jåvlar. Allie, the woman who saw death, had sensed something from the contact with Hannah, and since her mind still linked to Peter’s, of course he felt it, too.

  Not good. Dante would have to find out what she saw. Later.

  Hannah appeared unaffected and took a big breath. “I’m Hannah.” She gave Allie a shy smile. “Smells great. You must be a good cook.”

  Allie laughed. “Well, not really, but I need to learn before this baby starts to eat solid foods, or she’ll starve. Please make yourself at home. Um, need me to examine anything? You look like you might ... have had an accident.”

  Hannah stared down at the floor. “I’m fine.”

  Simultaneously, Dante said, “Yes, check her over.”

  Allie studied Hannah. “Hmm. Can it wait until after breakfast, or should I take a peek now?”

  Hannah shook her head. “Later.”

  “Now,” Dante interjected.

  After a pause, Allie shrugged. “I’ll go with the patient on this one.”

  When Hannah excused herself to wash up in the restroom, Dante went to his car for a change of clothes. Just getting the torn, bloody shirt off made him feel better. He selected a pair of designer jeans and a black T-shirt and changed, lightning fast, in the open air.

  When he reentered the house, Allie shot him another nebulous glare but said nothing.

  Face damp but at least clean of dried blood, Hannah returned and settled in a cushioned kitchen chair with a sigh. The breathy sound set his nerves on edge as he imagined her lips making that sound near his ear.

  Vad i helvete. Focus, man.

  And focus he did as he crunched crispy bacon and toast. He relaxed as Allie talked about her upcoming time off work. The baby would be here in a few short weeks. Peter’s besotted expression spoke volumes. As she talked, he maintained contact with his wife—a touch on her hand, a surreptitious caress of her swollen belly.

  Dante averted his eyes when a strange burst of nasty emotion hit him out of the blue.

  Jealousy. Damn.

  Peter had done it. Broken the contract, made a life together with a mortal, created new life. Hell, Peter had gotten a job as a freaking history professor, lucky bastard. What
an easy job when you’d lived the past hundred years.

  The wife, a kid on the way, the family pet, and a proverbial white picket fence. Nice work if you could get it, but that wasn’t Dante’s gig. He liked options.

  Didn’t he?

  At the end of the table, Hannah pushed the food around the plate. Her thin shoulders slumped, and those glasses didn’t hide the circles beneath her eyes. Faded bruises yellowed her fair skin. He’d bet she still had residual internal injuries. What did she say last night when he asked how she was doing?

  Almost all of the injuries are gone.

  She smiled vaguely but remained quiet.

  With one eye on Hannah, Dante listened to his friends catch him up on their lives since he’d seen them a year ago. The pleasant company and good food lulled him into a state of relaxation.

  But as he began his second helping of breakfast, Dante froze.

  “Allie? Why’d you make this much food? You two didn’t seem surprised to see us.”

  “Barnaby called yesterday. He thought you might show up,” Peter said.

  “A feeling?”

  “Sometimes people sense things. Don’t they?” Allie added in a too-sharp tone as she inclined her head toward Hannah.

  She glared at Dante until he withered under her glare. Allie’s “feelings” were often accurate. And deadly.

  “True.”

  Allie sighed. “Besides, if you hadn’t arrived, I would’ve eaten everything. This kid likes breakfast. And lunch. And dinner.” She grinned at Dante’s overflowing second helping. “Though a healthy appetite might ... run in the family.”

  After breakfast, Peter refused to let his wife clean up. He fussed over Allie and insisted she sit and rest.

  Something twisted like a knife in Dante’s chest, like he couldn’t take a deep breath. He was witnessing another item in a long list of life experiences he would never have.

  Speaking of which, Hannah’s strawberry blonde head nodded over her half-eaten plate. Her lips curved in an endearing smile.

  “Peter? Any chance we can crash for a bit?” He motioned toward his sleepy companion.

  “Absolutely. We have a guest room.”

  Allie heaved up from the chair. “Come on, I’ll get you both taken care of.” She paused. “Hannah, did you want a fresh change of clothes? I have a few things that might fit.”