Crap. “How will you know? I’m a really good liar.”
She laughed out loud at that. I bit back a retort. Mostly because Uncle Bob, Cookie, and Amber laughed, too. W T F?
After announcing my chagrin with an expertly placed death stare, I asked, “You’ll leave me alone if I do all this?”
“Are you asking if I’ll stop coming over and diving into your mountain of boxes?” When I shrugged an acknowledgment, she said, “No. We will get through that mountain.” She put an arm over my shoulders. “Together. All of us.” Everyone nodded in agreement. “Every day, at least one of us will take a box down until you can watch us do it without wincing.”
I frowned. “I didn’t wince.”
“You winced,” Uncle Bob said.
“I didn’t … Whatever.”
I was in a nightmare that consisted of well-meaning friends and family members who deserved to be in a locked cell with an anaconda. Not for very long. Just long enough to give them a few nightmares every night for the next month or so.
The thought made me happy.
Another knock sounded at the door, this one harder, more demanding.
“Really, guys?” I said, pounding over. Who else could they get to tag-team me?
Without putting a lot of thought into it, I swung open the door with the dramatic flair of a silent screen actress.
What I saw on the other side—who I saw—stole my breath. Surprise rocketed through my nervous system as I watched Reyes standing there in a fresh T-shirt and jeans, casual as lemon pie, like he hadn’t just killed a man. Like he hadn’t just dragged me across a warehouse and thrown me onto a cement floor. Like he hadn’t just disappeared when I was trying to have a civilized conversation with him. Served me right.
He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb, his eyes sparkling in appreciation. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked.
His gaze wandered over me, his interest not subtle in the least. “How’s the kid?”
He had just fought a demon for me. He had just saved my life, yet he stood there like he hadn’t a care in the world. I shook my head and said, “He’s okay. A little traumatized, but he’s in good hands. He’s Deaf.”
“I know.”
“How?” I asked, surprised.
“I watched you talk to him for a while.”
I pressed my lips together, then said, “Stalker.”
“Nut.”
I gasped. “Neanderthal.”
“Fruitcake.”
“Ape.”
“Psychopath.”
Why did his entire repertoire of insults question my mental stability? I scowled up at him and leaned in. “Demon.”
He wrapped a finger in the bottom of my shirt and pulled me closer. “Then that would make you a slayer, wouldn’t it?” he asked, his voice like deep, rich velvet.
I breathed in the heat that spiraled around him. He gave me every ounce of attention he had to offer, focused like a leopard focusing on his prey, just long enough to cause a warmth to crack open and spill into my chest. Over my stomach. Between my legs. Until, that is, he spotted Uncle Bob. His gaze glided past me to where Uncle Bob sat.
In a rush of panic, I realized I still had a house full of unwanted guests. And one of those unwanted guests was Uncle Bob, the man who put Reyes away for ten years for a murder he didn’t commit. But it wasn’t Ubie’s fault. All evidence pointed to Reyes. Earl Walker had made sure of it.
Maybe Reyes wouldn’t remember him.
I whirled around and gaped unappealingly. “Hey, guys. I want you to meet Reyes.”
Cookie dropped something, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off Uncle Bob, hoping he wouldn’t give himself away. Not that I had a snowball’s chance that Reyes had actually forgotten the man responsible for his conviction, but even snowballs could dream.
Uncle Bob, clearly surprised to see him, fought his emotions a minute, trying to figure out what to do before he made a decision. With a nod of acknowledgment toward Reyes, he leaned over and shut Cookie’s jaw for her. She caught herself and smiled sheepishly. However, he wasn’t close enough to Gemma to close hers without great discomfort. Amber seemed a tad thunderstruck as well. She’d strolled around the wall of boxes and stared, her eyes wide with wonder.
I was glad to know it wasn’t just me. Reyes seemed to affect every female within a two-mile radius the same way.
But Uncle Bob was a different story. I felt a fire spark and flare inside Reyes. An emotion I could refer to only as hatred. Unfortunately, he had every right to feel animosity for a man who put him, an innocent man, in prison. And worse, Uncle Bob had recently told me he knew in his heart Reyes was innocent. But there was nothing he could do. Every ounce of evidence had pointed directly at Reyes. Surely Reyes couldn’t blame him completely.
Uncle Bob had been sitting on a stool. His expression was one of regret and resignation. He stood and walked forward, resembling John Wayne charging into battle, knowing he wouldn’t survive.
“Maybe we should take this outside,” he said as he strode forward.
If what Uncle Bob just did, knowing what he now knew about Reyes, was not heroic, I didn’t know what was.
Uncle Bob’s presence seemed to knock the self-assured wind out of Reyes. A thick cord of tension stretched between them while a battle raged within him. A battle between doing the right thing and doing what his upbringing—the one from the underworld—begged him to do. I felt it twist and claw at his emotions. He was practically drooling to get at Ubie. To rip him to shreds. Something that came as easily to him as breathing did to me. But he held still. Too still. Possibly afraid to move. Afraid of what he’d do.