Believe in Me

CHAPTER 2

«Jerry, you know Mrs. Chambers?» Celia's head cocked to the side as she studied them.

The world snapped back into focus, and Jericho shook himself. He glanced in the mirror, taking in Tori's altered appearance. Looking directly at her, he would have been able to see through her glamour as easily as she'd seen through his. For him, there would be wide amber eyes, long ebony hair, and golden skin rather than the pale features of Mrs. Chambers.

He flapped a dismissive hand at the other stylist, working the gay angle like nobody's business. «Oh, the two of us go way back, don't we, sweetness?»

«Yeah. Jerry.» Tori almost grinned at his performance before his long, callused fingers lifted to slide her hair out of its knot. The smile died before it fully formed, and she tensed to still the automatic shiver of pleasure that wanted to ripple through her.

No. A thousand times no. She was not going down that road again. It was because of him that she'd been stuck a Guardian for more decades than she cared to count. Hell, it was because of him that she'd died in the first place. Because she'd loved him and he'd just used her for sex, for revenge against her brother, for any number of reasons he'd never bothered to share with her, but none of them were the love she'd craved.

«Go out with me this weekend.» Mason's deep voice yanked Tori out of her unpleasant trip along memory lane. He flashed his most charming smile at Celia, who didn't so much as pause before she shot him down. The woman was on autopilot. Shaking her out of that would be tough, but from the look of things, that was Jericho's problem now. Tori sighed.

Celia kept her gaze glued to the razor she was using to scrape away the stubble on Mason's head. «No can do, champ. I'm leaving tomorrow for a hair show and won't be back for a week. Jerry can give you your regularly scheduled scalping while I'm gone.»

Mason cast Jericho a disgruntled look, and the other man just shrugged, swirled a silver cape around Tori's shoulders, and then continued to fuss with her hair.

«She's leaving?» Tori hissed, frustrated at yet another delay in a long line of them. At least this time she could take it out on someone. If anyone deserved her ire, it was Jericho. «How is this you doing your job?»

«Absence makes the heart grow fonder,» he murmured. «And you could try believing in me, for once. I know what I'm doing.»

Any response she might have made died on her lips when his rough fingertips slid against her skull, and her involuntary shiver couldn't be quelled this time. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, her lungs seizing as her long-denied hormones rioted. Heat and lust spun through her so fast it left her reeling, and all he was doing was gliding his fingers through her hair.

She cursed herself for a fool as she silently struggled against the pull he had on her. The struggle was a dismal failure. Her nipples hardened to thrust against her bra, and she crossed her legs tighter, but it did nothing to stop the empty ache that throbbed between her thighs. She could feel herself growing wet, the folds of her sex swelling. Sucking in a deep breath to try to calm her racing heart and slow her erratic breathing, she only managed to draw in his scent over the fumes of salon chemicals. The hot, masculine smell of him was so familiar, even after all this time, and the realization sent a harsh pang through her.

His fingertips moved down to work the tension out of her neck, and she swallowed a moan. Her body softened for him, some muscles loosening while others tightened to ready her for sex. Helpless anger roared within her, and she pinched her eyes closed in denial of one simple truth. If he ever tried to seduce her, she was fucked. In every possible way.

Just like she had been so long ago.

He leaned forward to grab a pair of scissors off of the counter in front of the chair and his lips brushed her ear. «Think of it this way, Celia being gone gives us a week to formulate a game plan.»

The last thing she wanted was to spend time with him, but the faster they got Mason and Celia together, the faster she could escape from Cedarville. And him. «Fine.»

«Dinner tonight? To discuss plans?» His scent filled her lungs, and the need within her twisted tighter. Damn fate for doing this to her, for shoving her back into contact with the last man in the world she wanted to see. Ever.

«I'll meet you next door.» A little diner occupied the space next to the hair salon. It had good food and, more importantly, booths that offered enough privacy for them to talk without being overheard. Anyone who listened in would think they were batshit nutty anyway, but it was best not to draw attention to themselves. Humans just wouldn't understand. Back when she'd been a human, she wouldn't have understood either, so she couldn't blame them.

His hands began expertly snipping away at her hair, trimming the ends and letting them flutter in tufts to the floor. She'd bet her afterlife he'd never cut hair before. That was how things worked as a Guardian. If you needed a skill for an assignment, it just came to you. If you wanted to look a certain way, you just did. There were no wings, no halo, no white light, no awe-inspiring powers. Maybe because the human-born angels were the lowest rung on the celestial corporate ladder, but maybe not. They didn't even have a superior they answered to-they were merely compelled to do the jobs they did. They woke up one day, their heads filled with the assignment at hand. And then they went to work. There was no fighting it, no trying to get out, no rebellion. This was what they'd been called upon to do, and they'd do it until they failed to get it right. End of story.

«All right, that should do it.» He brushed a few stray strands off the cape. His silver eyes met hers briefly in the mirror, and awareness she didn't want to feel tingled down her spine. «I get off at seven.»

The words get off falling from his lips did nothing to calm her rabbiting heartbeat. «Until seven, then.»

Jericho was waiting for her when she arrived at the restaurant, his big body dominating one of the tall wooden booths in the back. His long fingers toyed idly with the silverware in front of him.

«Mrs. Chambers, it's good to see you!» One of the waitresses offered a big smile as Tori stepped in from the door.

«Thanks, Lindsay. How's your mom doing?» The girl's mother had recently broken up with her boyfriend, and as the resident town gossip, it was Tori's job to make sure everyone knew she knew their business. This definitely wasn't a position she'd have wanted for a whole year. She felt twinges of guilt whenever she spread people's news around, but she had to keep up her cover.

«Mom's doing okay. I guess.»

Lindsay's smile wobbled a bit and Tori gave her arm a comforting pat. «It'll all turn out all right. You mark my words, young lady.»

«Thanks, Mrs. Chambers.» The girl pulled in a big breath and her grin became more genuine. «Where would you like to sit?»

«Oh, I'm meeting a friend for dinner.» Tori glanced up and found Jericho's sharp gaze pinned to her, taking in the exchange between the two women. She cleared her throat and tilted her head towards his booth. «Bring us both the special and some coffee, would you?»

«Sure thing, Mrs. Chambers.» Lindsay moved to obey while Tori approached the booth, sliding onto the bench opposite her worst mistake.

«Vitoria,» he said in greeting.

«It's just Tori now.» Unlike him, she'd done everything in her power to ditch her accent, her old identity. The rolling Spanish inflection had made her stand out in the United States when she'd needed to blend in. She rarely spoke her native tongue anymore-not unless an assignment called for it. Her job was her life now. She didn't need to be a beautiful, accomplished young lady any longer. There was no rich, doting husband to attract, no parties to host at her older brother's hacienda. A pang of longing went through her. She missed Enrique so much-her only family after their parents had passed away. They'd been devoted to each other, so much so that she'd insisted on accompanying him in 1836 when he rode with Santa Anna from Mexico to fight against the rebellious American settlers in Texas.

Rebellious settlers like Jericho.

So long ago, and yet she recalled every detail of that time as if it had been branded into her mind.

Lindsay glided up carrying a big tray, lowering it to the tabletop to transfer over the plates of steaming food and big mugs of coffee. Tori smiled at her. «Thanks, Lindsay.»

«No problem. Flag me down if you need anything else.»

«We won't need anything else,» Jericho replied with a quick grin before switching his gaze to the other side of the booth. Again, Tori felt pinned by the intensity that burned there. After this many years of living, she'd have thought some of his intensity would have lessened, but not so much.

To cover her uneasiness, she picked up her coffee and let the cup hide her face as she took a deep draught. Ah, caffeine. It wouldn't help at all in settling her jangling nerves, but she loved the stuff, so who cared? «So…Mason and Celia.»

«Yeah.» He picked up the fork he'd been playing with when she came in and applied himself to his food with gusto. «Those two aren't going to make this easy. The last year of failed attempts is just going to make it harder to get them to break down and actually trust each other.»

«Yeah, trust. It's a fickle thing.» If there was a bite of irony to her voice, she didn't bother to cover it. She'd trusted him, and he'd betrayed her. Discussing how to help him make a woman trust anyone was like twisting the knife that had been parked squarely between her shoulder blades for over a hundred years. Not that she was bitter. Much.

His gaze cut to her, so she busied herself with her own dinner. He took a sip of his coffee, and she could feel his gaze on her, willing her to look at him, to make that connection, but she refused to give him what he wanted. They had a job to do. The personal shit between them could stay good and buried for all she cared. She was never going there again with him. His fingers tapped a light tattoo on the table. «We have to make this work. The last angel may have failed these people, but I'm not going to.»

«Neither am I.» She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. «I have never failed a client before and I don't intend to start now.»

What they didn't say was that neither of them knew what happened if an angel failed. They were just…gone, replaced. Where they went was something no Guardian knew. Tori didn't guess anyone who'd failed got a promotion, but she didn't want to find out if the other option was a downward spiral to the hot spot. Some mysteries she'd learned not to wonder about. It was safer that way.

A pensive frown drew Jericho's brows together. «I had one assignment that didn't pan out.»

«I don't even want to imagine what that means.» A sick feeling hollowed out the pit of her belly. She told herself the feeling stemmed from the notion of going through that herself rather than the thought of Jericho coming so close to disappearing the way the angel he'd replaced here had been.

He sighed, shaking his head. He swallowed audibly, his voice hoarse. «The soul mate committed suicide. I had to hand my client over to a grief angel.»

«Damn.» I'm sorry. The words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. Offering sympathy, reaching out, would only make this situation worse for everyone concerned. Her heart twisted at the very idea of passing off a client that way, of having them hurt like that on her watch. For better or for worse, she came to care about all her people. In that, she knew she was lucky in her job. She got to help people find love-how the Guardians who dealt with ugly emotions like despair, depression, loss and suicide made it through the day was beyond her.

A shudder went through her. She was happy to keep her job, thanks so much. Failure was not an option. Mason and Celia were going to fall in love and they were going to be happy, even if she had to hog-tie their stubborn asses together for eternity. She stabbed her fork viciously into an innocent piece of broccoli.

«I don't know what you're thinking, but I know I don't like the look on your face.» Lazy amusement curled through Jericho's voice, and he settled back against the smooth wood of the booth.

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, wrinkling her nose. «Just thinking we may have to hog-tie our clients together or something to make this work.»

«You always did have a fondness for being tied up.» The amusement was still in his deep tone, but laced with rough desire, with hot memories she'd tried to scrub from her mind long ago.

How he'd snuck into her brother's encampment, bound her and gagged her, stealing her away in the middle of the night to hold as a hostage. How he'd removed the gag when he'd gotten her back to his camp, and she'd challenged him, hurled every insult she'd ever heard at him, cursing him in four different languages. How she'd still been bound when he'd kissed her, stroked her, made love to her the first time. How she'd moaned and sobbed and begged him for more.

Her nipples hardened and wetness slicked her sex as the erotic parade marched behind her eyes. Goose bumps rippled down her skin, and her blood rushed hot through her veins. She barely managed to swallow the bite of food in her mouth without choking. Pain and lust twisted like wild things inside her, shredding her until she wanted to howl with the awfulness of it. Please, God, make it stop. Please. She couldn't bear this. Not now. Not again. Not with him.

«No response, huh? Tori.» He said the nickname slowly, as though savoring the taste of it on his tongue. «I like that. It suits you, darlin'.»

«Don't call me that. I'm not your darling. I never was.» She could have bitten her tongue off trying to snap her mouth shut. Too late. The words were out there, falling like heavy stones between them. She should have ignored his goading, shouldn't have mentioned the past at all, shouldn't even have acknowledged they had one. The very last thing she wanted was to rehash old times with him. The past was, by very definition, done and over with. It should stay that way.

His silver eyes zeroed in on her, made her want to squirm in discomfort. A flash of what almost looked like hurt flickered in his gaze. She repressed a snort. Right. She'd have to matter to him to hurt his feelings, and she knew she never had.

That was how they'd ended up in this mess. In life, they'd been soul mates, destined for one another, even though they were wary and untrusting, on opposite sides of a war. Then she'd risked everything to warn him about a surprise raid Enrique had planned…only to find her beloved in bed with another woman.

A stray shot fired during the raid had taken her life, but she'd already been shattered beyond repair.

She hadn't known it then, but their own Guardians had failed them, and when Tori and Jericho had died because of that failure, they'd been recruited to replace their angels. That was how it worked. Failure meant another angel replaced you. Failure resulting in the death of a client meant the client replaced you. It was just Tori and Jericho's misfortune that both of them had died that day. And it was just Tori's luck that a man she never wanted to see again, a man who should have croaked at a ripe old age before the turn of the last century, had followed her into unwilling immortality.

Fuck.