Charmed (Death Escorts #2)(8)
Author: Cambria Hebert

“So how ya doing?” I asked.

She knew it wasn’t a general question. She set down her fork and looked at me. “Better, I think. I still miss him. It helps, you know, knowing that he’s not somewhere suffering.”

I nodded. Piper fell in love with a Death Escort, a guy who worked for the Grim Reaper, and was assigned the job of killing her. But in the end he couldn’t kill her, and it cost him his life. He somehow got a message to her that he wasn’t suffering in death, but he was still dead. And she was alive, but left to deal with everything that happened alone.

I wasn’t sure if I should tell her who I saw today or not. I thought she had a right to know that Charming was here, but I also didn’t want to disrupt any kind of healing she was doing.

“Out with it,” Piper said, cutting into my mental ping-pong.

“With what?” I asked, batting my eyes at her.

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “That won’t work on me. I know you are far from innocent.”

I pushed away from the table and went to the living room to grab my bag of stash, stopping at the fridge to put away the Yoo-hoo and Cherry Coke. Then I grabbed a pack of Junior Mints from the back and carried them back to the table.

This conversation required chocolate.

“I saw Charming today.” I didn’t bother beating around the bush. It wouldn’t make the news any less hard.

Her fork clattered against her plate and her skin paled a little. “Where?”

“He came into the DMV. He was registering his car in this state.”

“He’s staying here?” she whispered.

“I don’t really know. Seems that way.”

She nodded. “Thanks for telling me.”

My eyes about fell out of my head. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say about the guy who stuffed you in a trunk and tried to kill you?”

“What else am I gonna say, Frank?” She pushed away from the table and stood. “That I hate him? That I blame him for Dex’s death? That we should call the cops and have him arrested?” She sank back down in the chair and looked at me. “What’s the point? We can’t fight him. We can’t fight the Grim Reaper. I’m tired. I just want to move on.”

I pushed the Junior Mints toward her. “Have some candy.”

She snorted. But she picked up the box and dug out a piece. “You got his address, didn’t you?” she asked me quietly.

I helped myself to a piece of minty goodness. “Yep.”

She moved fast, faster than I expected, her hand shooting out to grab my wrist, and she pinned me with serious brown eyes. “Stay away from him, Frankie. Promise me.”

How did a girl get around making promises she had no intention of keeping?

I used my free hand to shove a couple more candies in my mouth. “It’s not polite to speak with a full mouth,” I mumbled.

“I’m serious. These people… they live by their own rules. I almost died. Dex did die. Going around them, it’s like lighting a match in a room full of gasoline. Stay away from them before you become death’s next Target.”

“Piper,” I protested, but she shook her head vehemently and squeezed my wrist.

“Promise me, Frankie. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you too.”

She looked down at where she held me and let go like I burned her skin.

“What did you see?” I asked, watching her face. Piper had this ability to see visions of the future. All she had to do was touch someone.

“Nothing,” she said. “I’d like to keep it that way.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve had enough visions to last me a lifetime.”

“Come on,” I said, abandoning my plate and grabbing up the box of candy. “Let’s go watch something completely trashy on TV. I’m sure there’s some reality show on that will make us feel better about ourselves.”

She laughed but pinned me with a serious gaze. “Promise me, Frankie.”

“I promise,” I agreed.

That seemed to make her feel better, her steps lighter as we walked toward the TV. I wondered what she would say if she knew the promise I made wasn’t the one she’d exactly asked for.

I had no intention of staying away from Charming. I fully intended to find out what the hell he was up to. I just promised not to die while doing it.

*    *    *

It was after ten by the time Piper left for her apartment. She stayed later than she usually did, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she needed the company or if she was afraid that the minute she left I’d be up to no good.

She was right, of course.

The minute she left, I ran into my bedroom and ransacked the pile of black clothing lying on the floor. I pulled out a pair of black leggings and a long-sleeved black T-shirt and quickly pulled them on. The clothes felt like a second skin against me. I checked myself out in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, leaning against my bedroom wall, and smiled with satisfaction.

I wasn’t a girl that suffered from low self-esteem.

I liked the way I looked and I worked hard to maintain the curves that shaped my body. I wasn’t fat, though by today’s standards (which basically said you should look like a stick with a head), some people probably thought I was, but I didn’t really care what those people thought. In my opinion, a woman should have a shape; she should be a body of swells and valleys. She should have something for a man to grab on to in bed—a solid form to hold on to in the night—not some twig that he couldn’t even find between the sheets.

I stood at average height, 5’5”, and had a classic hourglass shape (just like Marilyn Monroe) with full hips that gave way to a waist that dipped in on each side and rose up to meet an ample chest and a strong set of shoulders. My thighs rubbed together when I walked and someone once compared my booty to an onion (he said it made a brother want to cry).

I wore my golden-blond hair short (just past my chin), and I liked to style it in messy curls or waves that framed blue eyes and a creamy complexion.

To finish off the body-hugging outfit, I pulled on a pair of high-heeled black boots and the black cap I’d found earlier. Cat Woman could eat her heart out. On my way out the door, I grabbed a black coat and my bag that contained the address I got illegally out of the DMV computer system. What? What’s the point in working at a job you hate if you can’t benefit from it sometimes?

It took about forty-five minutes to get to his house. Of course he lived in some ritzy part of town. What was surprising and to my advantage was that his house sat apart from everyone else’s. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he would value privacy—I mean, he was a killer.