The wrapping on the candy bar crinkled as Paddy opened it. “Consider it a favor to me?” he asked before he took a bite.
I watched the joy of a sugar rush spread across his features. Okay, I’d still have chocolate. Coffee never seemed to lose its appeal. How bad could it be?
“No.” I used to have a problem rejecting favors outright, always squirming to find a plausible excuse. But that was before I’d stomped my manners into the ground and kicked some dirt over them. I only dug them up and rinsed them off for special occasions now.
“No,” a deep male voice seconded.
Paddy disappeared the second Fate’s voice hit the airwaves. Well, that was rude. Even my buried and dirtied manners were rolling over in their grave, aghast.
I turned at the sound of Fate’s voice right behind me. “What are you doing here?” I asked even though I knew he’d been keeping tabs on me lately, or worse, sticking the Jinxes on me. He was definitely the lesser of the two evils. The Jinxes tended to get bored with guard duty, even if it was supposed to be covert. At least they flattened the car’s tires beside where the Honda was parked, or turned on their lights. Unfortunately, I tended to feel responsible. After the third time, I put jumper cables and a pump in my trunk.
“I had some shopping to do.” He shrugged as if it were a perfectly good excuse as he stood there without a single item and his hands in his pockets.
“You don’t do your own shopping, or not most of it,” I said, still thinking of the perfume. I believed that he didn’t have something going on with Mother but not from lack of interest on her part.
But as far as shopping went, it was probably a good thing he didn’t do most of his. With the level of testosterone he pumped into an area, he was going to give the ladies more than tomatoes to fight over. Even now, I could hear carts turning down our aisle. We were in the process of picking up a caravan and he hadn’t even been here long.
Women were so silly, some nice built biceps and broad shoulders, face to die for and they got all… And now he was smirking, so I needed to stop looking at him.
“I do my own shopping as of today. My shopper is missing.” He moved closer, his side brushing mine as we stepped forward. “Want me to push your cart?”
How had he made that sound like sex? And what had happened? When had sexual innuendos become a total free for all with us? What switch had been tripped without me knowing?
I stopped pushing the cart, blocking him when he would’ve taken the handles. “What are you buying?”
He looked around, grabbed a bag of marshmallows and threw them in my cart before he tugged on my ponytail. “Nice get up,” he said, eyeing me.
I thought it was. My tank top, although disarmingly lacy, allowed for good mobility, and my flirty skirt hid holstered knives, strapped to my thighs, which were easily reached. The only sacrifice I’d made was the beaded flip-flops with wedged heels. The girl in me couldn’t pair sneakers with this outfit, no matter how practical.
“It’s highly functional.”
“Just so we’re clear, I don’t want you disappearing anywhere with Paddy.”
He had a point, but it was a point I’d seen for myself. “When did I become incapable of handling my own affairs?”
“I’ve got more experience than you.”
“At handling my affairs? I think that might be impossible, even for you.”
“At handling everything.”
His tone made it clear exactly what he meant to handle and the smirk made its return. It never seemed far away anymore. It was hard to be angry, frustrated, or really anything else when he looked at me like that.
And I wasn’t the only one. Some dippy lady ran her cart into an end display, too preoccupied by Fate and his smirk to pay attention to where she was going.
The pickle jars crashing to the floor broke the spell for long enough to get my senses under control. It was taking more and more these days but the overwhelming smell of vinegar helped. “I can’t do dinner tonight.”
“That’s the deal we made.” The smirk was gone.
“We didn’t actually ever make a deal.”
“Is this about your twisted bucket list or the perfume?”
I paused a minute. The perfume for Mother annoyed me but I wasn’t going to screw up the only reliable working partner I had because of it. Besides, flirting aside, we had a working relationship. I didn’t have any claim on him and I had to keep that straight in my head. Maybe the perfume was a good thing. It clarified things. He’d flirt and use all sorts of tactics to his advantage but it didn’t mean anything.
I hoped the perfume was something sickly sweet as I tried to keep my voice from coming out as nauseating as I found his gifts to her to be. “Bucket list. I have to get them off the street.”
I’d been trying to track down every person I’d saved for Malokin and had made a bucket list of sorts. Some people had a list of things they needed to do before they died. I had a list of people who needed to be killed before Malokin used them.
“What time did you plan on having your killing spree?” He asked the question the way someone would inquire about when a tee time was.
“Not a spree.” My shoulders drooped a bit. “It’s not that easy to get them all in one place. More along the lines of serial killings.”
“I’m sorry. That’s tough.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No. That really is a pain in the ass. I had to make sure a war started once. It was an ordeal getting everyone together long enough for things to click into place.”
“Which war?”
“I’d prefer not to say. I don’t like to brag.”
“Did you feel bad about it?”
“No. The guy was a total ass and I knew he was going to lose.”
“But what about all the deaths?”
“You’re letting your human show again. Death isn’t final, not for humans. It’s just a layover before you get back on the train. Why would I be upset about that?”
“What about the people left behind and grieving?”
“It’s not like they aren’t going to see them again.”
“But they’re distraught for a while, sometimes for years and years.”
“Years are nothing. You really need to get those human thoughts under control. It’s why you can’t lose the transfer nickname.” He reached over and grabbed an unbroken jar of pickles left on the display and placed them in the cart. “What time do you have slotted for your murder tonight?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going with you.”
I pushed the cart down the meat aisle, swerving to avoid two men about to fist fight over a shank of beef. “Is it that you like to be involved in everything or do you just think that I’ll end up dead if you don’t get involved?” And as I said it, I realized that question was my biggest problem with his attentiveness lately. What if he had some sort of savior hang up and that was all this was? He felt good about saving the helpless girl who couldn’t save herself.
“Why are the two exclusive?”
“Be at my house at seven thirty.” Sometimes I wondered why I gave him a hard time. In all honesty, I wanted the help and I didn’t particularly care for having my entire existence wiped as if I’d never existed.
It also wasn’t going to be a lot of fun trying to kill the people who should have died, but it needed to be done. I’d already chickened out on a previous attempt. I’d had the guy in my aim but I hadn’t been able to go through with it. Maybe if Fate were there with me, having a witness would literally force me to pull the trigger.
Fate tossed a bag of salt and vinegar chips into my cart, highly unusual for his diet but not such a shock to see in my cart. Fate actually preferred healthier food. He had to, since it didn’t matter that much what we ate.
“Comfort food? Afraid Mother didn’t like her gift?” I hope that didn’t sound as bitter as it had tasted crossing my lips.
He smiled. “They’re not for me.”