Then I noticed one tiny change. He’d actually removed several of the pictures my dad had scattered here and there. The only ones remaining were the ones with me in them. I didn’t even have to be the focal point of the picture. I could’ve been in the background, as I was in a beach photo we’d taken in SoCal when I was in grade school.

The picture was supposed to be of my sister, Gemma, showing off her lopsided sand castle. But there I was in the background, pulling my mouth as wide as I could with my fingers and sticking out my tongue. Oh, and my eyes were crossed. No photobomb was complete without crossed eyes. Not my best look, but Reyes seemed to like it.

“Come to shower me with ice again?” Reyes asked.

I turned back to him. He was still poring over a stack of papers and hadn’t looked up.

“Shower you with ice?” When he didn’t answer, I asked, “What are you working on?”

“My will.”

I walked around the desk in alarm. “Your will? Why do you need a will?”

He looked up at last. “Surely, you’re joking.”

I started to argue, but he was right. We did lead a rather hazardous life. To deny that would be ludicrous. Then again, ludicrous was my middle name.

“I have a plan,” I said, steering the conversation away from places I was not comfortable going.

“Does it involve my death? If so, you might want to wait another day or so. I need to get this back to our lawyers.”

“We have lawyers?” That was cool. I’d never thought of myself as a lawyer-y type person. “Never mind that. I have a plan to get our daughter back.”

He finally gave me his full attention. He put down the pen he’d been holding and sat back in his chair. The movement was so small, so everyday, and yet it sent a tiny rush of excitement spiraling over my skin.

He’d rolled up his sleeves, exposing his corded forearms. His strong hands. His long, capable fingers.

He noticed me noticing for sure that time, but instead of reaching out to me, instead of inviting me into his personal space, he waited. He simply waited. For me to speak? For me to act? I had no idea which, so I went with the former.

“Yeah, so, for this plan to work, we are going to need a dozen syringes, a case of nitrous oxide, a serial killer, and a tank.”

He didn’t respond, and I stood a little confounded when he didn’t mock my shopping list. He didn’t even question it, so I clarified the last item on my list.

“You know, from the military.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “I know what a tank is.”

“Right. I just thought you might be leaning toward a fish tank or a septic tank.”

“No, I got it.” His gaze shimmered as he took me in, and I could see the interest sparkling in their dark depths. I wanted to shift, just a little, to straddle the other plane and see him in his supernatural form, but I got the feeling he knew when I did that, so I stopped myself.

“Do you think it’ll work?” I asked.

“Your plan?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t actually heard it. I’ve only heard the physical requirements for it.”

“Oh, of course.” I tried to shake out of the carnal desire racing through my veins and pooling with zero regard to my sanity in my abdomen. When I failed miserably, I walked to the other side of his desk and sat opposite him. To put some distance between us. And a large piece of wood. It didn’t help. Probably because I knew what he could do to that piece of wood to get to me if he wanted to. Clearly, however, he didn’t want to.

I took a deep breath, but instead of relaying my plan to him, I asked, “Can you tell me what’s bothering you?”

He didn’t move. His expression didn’t change in the least. He simply stared, his long lashes making his irises shimmer all the more in the low light.

“We have company.”

“And that’s bothering you? The little boy in the ceiling?”

Before he could answer, Osh, or Osh’ekiel as he was known in the celestial realm, walked into Reyes’s office. Just strolled in like he wasn’t supposed to be somewhere else.

“Osh,” I said, alarm rocketing through me. “Why are you here?”

He bowed his head a moment and stuffed his hands in his pockets. As usual, he was wearing a short black top hat over his shoulder-length black hair. But today he also wore a long duster, just as black as the rest of his attire, and heavy motorcycle boots.

Reyes stood and waited for his answer as well.

“We had to move her.”