“With several employees serving witness,” I said with a nod.

“Damn. That’s not going to help our case any.”

“True, but it won’t matter when we find who really did it.”

“If we find who really did it.”

“Did you get a hit on anything?”

“Do cowboys wear spurs?” Her blue eyes sparkled in the low light.

“Oooh, sounds promising. Want to come over?”

“Sure. Let me grab a quick shower.”

“Me, too. I think I still smell like an illegally dumped oil slick.”

“Don’t forget the coffee,” she said, closing her door.

* * *

I offered a quick shout-out to my roomie, Mr. Wong, before showering. But once again, I wasn’t alone. Dead Trunk Guy showed up just as the water got hot. I tried to toss his ass out by bracing myself against the wall and pushing with all my might, but he didn’t budge. I totally needed to learn how to exorcise the crazy ones. Afterwards, I threw on some sweats and started a pot of coffee. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t keep my mind from straying back to what Rocket’s sister had said about Reyes. I mean, the bringer of death? Seriously? Who talked like that?

Just as I pushed Mr. Coffee’s button, a fiery heat enveloped me from behind. I paused and reveled in the feel of it a moment before turning around. Reyes had placed both hands on the counter, bracing them on either side of me. I leaned back and allowed myself the rare luxury of just staring. His full mouth was quite possibly the most sensual thing about him. So inviting. So kissable. And his liquid brown eyes, lined with lashes so thick, so dark, they made the gold and green flecks in his irises sparkle by contrast. They were the stuff of every girl’s fantasy.

His gaze, unwavering and determined, held mine captive while his fingers grasped one end of the drawstring on my sweatpants and pulled. Then he looked at my mouth, like a kid in a candy shop, and ran his fingers along the waistband to loosen them. As always, his skin was blisteringly hot against mine, and I wondered if it was a product of him being incorporeal yet still alive or of him being born in the fires of hell. Literally.

“I learned some things about you today.”

His finger dipped south, causing a quake to shudder through me. “Did you?”

This would get me nowhere fast. With every ounce of strength I had, I ducked past him and stepped to my sofa. “Coming?” I asked when he sighed.

He followed me with his eyes as I plopped down and criss-cross-applesauced my legs. The heat from his fingers still lingered on my abdomen. As badly as I’d wanted those fingers to reach the nether shore, their owner and I needed to chat.

After a moment, Reyes strolled into my living room, which took about two steps, then noticed Mr. Wong in the corner. He turned and studied him with a frown. “Does he know he’s dead?”

“No idea. According to rumor, if your corporeal body passes, you’ll become the Antichrist.”

He paused, clenched his jaw, then lowered his head in a way that had me wondering just how hard I’d hit the nail on the head. I didn’t have to wonder long.

“That’s why I was created.”

The alarm that spiked within me was reflexive, uncontrollable.

He glanced up at me. “You’re surprised?”

“No. A little,” I admitted.

“Have you ever known a man who wanted to be a professional ballplayer but never quite had the skill?”

My brows furrowed with the sudden shift in direction. “Um, well, I knew a guy once who wanted to play professional baseball. Tried out and everything.”

“Is he married now?”

“Yes,” I answered, wondering again what he was thinking. “Two kids.”

“A son?”

“Yes. And a girl.”

“Let me ask you. What does that son do?”

Of course. He had me dead to rights. “He plays baseball. Has since he was two.”

He nodded knowingly. “And he will push that kid and push him to be the professional baseball player he could never be.”

“Your father could never conquer the world, so he was grooming his kid to do it for him.”

“Exactly.”

“And how well did he groom you?”

“What are the odds of that kid becoming a professional baseball player?”

“I understand that. You’re not like him. But I was told your incorporeal body is like an anchor and without it, you’ll lose your humanity. That you’ll become exactly what he wants you to be.”

“How is it you believe everything you hear about me, yet nothing I tell you?”

“That’s not true,” I said, clutching a throw pillow to my chest. “You’ve told me you don’t know what’ll happen if you die. I’m simply trying to find out.”

“Yet everything you hear is negative. Catastrophic.” He eyed me from underneath his lashes and whispered, “A lie.”

“You just told me why you were created. That wasn’t a lie.”

“My father created me for one reason. It doesn’t make me his puppet. And it damn sure doesn’t make me the f**king Antichrist.” He turned from me, his anger rising quickly to overtake his frustration. With a loud sigh, he said, “I don’t want to fight.”

“I don’t want to fight either,” I said, jumping up. “I just want to find you. I just want you to be okay.”

“What part of trap don’t you understand?” He turned back to me with a glower. “Until you’re safe, I’ll never be okay.”