Charmed (Death Escorts #2)(74)
Author: Cambria Hebert

“I was in the crowd, watching the fight. My money was on you.”

My steps faltered. Those words… My money’s on you. I knew those words. Someone said them to me right before… right before I died.

“It was you,” I murmured, pushing through the ninety years of memories to bring back the night I spent a lot of time trying to forget. “There was a man. He came up to the ring, helped me with my water.” He had dark hair and a wide forehead. “It was you.”

“Ahh, you do remember,” G.R. said. “I knew you would make a good Escort. I could see it in your face. Your determination. Your stubbornness. Your unwillingness to back down from someone who desperately wanted to hold on to his title.”

“I should have won that fight.”

“Yes. You should have.”

I glanced up swiftly. Had he somehow interfered with the fight? Had he somehow made me lose?

“That was your downfall, you know. You underestimated your opponent. You let your human side get in the way. You didn’t expect someone to cheat—someone to kill for what they wanted.”

He was right. That was my downfall. I hadn’t been expecting a dirty fight. My entire life I’d been honest; I’d worked hard. I thought that was the way to get the things I wanted. The respect and recognition I deserved.

But there were people out there who didn’t care about hard work or integrity. There were people out there who wanted to take the shortcut to success and their shortcut involved knocking down the people in their way.

“Your loss was my gain that night,” G.R. said. “I knew you would become my greatest Escort. I was right. All you needed was a little push.”

“A little push?”

He smiled slyly. “All I had to do was get rid of the humanity that seemed to hold you back.”

Dread began to build within in me. My humanity? After I died, the only humanity I had was…

My sister.

“You son of a…” My words trailed away as the knowledge of just how bad he played me was born. “You killed her. You killed my sister.”

“I thought maybe as time went on, your preoccupation with her would diminish, but then you killed that boy. You broke my rules and you killed someone who wasn’t a Target.”

“You knew?”

“I know everything. I knew the minute you killed him. But I wasn’t ready to Recall you. I knew your potential, but in order for it to be realized, she had to go.”

Fury burned through me. It swept over my entire body like a forest fire in a bone-dry mountain of trees. He killed my sister. He robbed her of her life. He robbed my mother of her daughter. If I hadn’t hated him before, I hated him now.

“It worked,” he taunted. “As soon as she was gone, you became the perfect killer. So quick and precise. You never strayed from a job and the charm you exuded was the perfect bait for just about any Target.”

I thought she killed herself. I thought what I had done made her end her life. All these years I carried around guilt that some days threatened to crush me when all along I hadn’t killed her at all. It was him.

My sister lost her life so he could create the perfect Escort.

I flew across the room, leaping over his desk and grabbing the chair he sat in like it was his throne. Moving fast, I grabbed the chair and hurled it, sending him and the black leather monster spiraling against the wall of closets behind him.

The chair crashed to the floor, half pinning him to the ground, and one of the closet doors sprang open, revealing the row of neat bodies.

G.R. tossed the chair away and stood, swiping at a rivulet of blood that trailed from the corner of his lip, and faced me. I sent a swirling ball of white-hot energy at his chest, making him leap to the side out of its path. The energy hit the bodies, blowing them off the racks and scattering them on the floor. I went over and snatched one up, snarling at the ugly-ass khakis and threw it at him. “Better pick a new body now because when I’m done with the one you’re wearing, it won’t be worth salvaging.”

He caught the body and lowered it to the ground like it was delicate and then turned his eyes to the other bodies that lay around my feet.

He barreled toward me, and I knew he was going to try and touch me. From the last time, I understood just a simple touch from him wouldn’t kill me like a regular human, but any longer contact would completely kill the body I was in. This was my body and I wasn’t about to lose it.

I rushed around the end of the desk and lifted, using it as a shield against him. All the contents that sat on top slid down and rushed across the floor, making the Reaper dodge the falling office supplies.

I shoved the table away, pushing it toward him, and it teetered on its one side before falling over, crashing toward him. He narrowly missed being crushed, and the desk landed on the floor with a hard smack.

His office door flew open and several of the Escorts rushed in, looking at G.R., the mess, and then settling on me.

I smirked and looked at G.R. “You didn’t fire them after the ass kicking I served them last time?” I shook my head. “Your business is going to hell.”

His response was to shoot more of that electric-blue energy that crackled from his fingertips. This time it connected.

I flew backward, hitting the sofa in the center of the room and knocking it over. I landed behind it on the floor and lay there stunned for a few minutes.

One of the Escorts (the blue one) hauled me up and drew back his fist to punch me, but I kicked him, sending him sprawling into the one behind him.

All three of them went down like dominoes. It’s like they were the three stooges of death.

I faced the Reaper once more, my brain rapidly running through ideas of how I could cause him extreme pain.

But my thoughts were stalled when I heard the telltale cocking of guns behind me.

I looked over my shoulder to see the three stooges hadn’t come alone this time. They’d brought some friends. Friends that were much more lethal than they were. And right now all three of their friends were pointed at my head.

Well, damn.

My options just got a lot more limited. I could (and would) fight back, but the odds were at least one of them would get off a good shot. If this body died, the chances of getting G.R. to give me another one were slim to none. Not to mention not having a body made moving around a real pain in the ass. I didn’t have time to get shot.

G.R. smiled like he knew he won and made his way through the mess to dig out his chair and press the button underneath of it. The secret wall slid open, revealing the doors inside.