“What about you? Do you have gifts?”

“No,” he said.

Uncle Bob came in, gave me a peck on the cheek, then went upstairs to find his wife. Cookie was about to get a nice surprise. Reyes walked up behind me and draped his arms over the back of the recliner so he could rub my Beep bump. His hands felt wonderful. His heat soothing.

“What about other … people like me?” I asked. “Do you know about them?”

“There are no other people like you.”

“No, I mean, what about other people they observe. How many are there?”

“Look, I was hired to observe you and report back. That’s it.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I know that your husband is special, too.”

He had that right. He was busy nibbling on my earlobe, causing ripples of pleasure to race over my skin.

“Do you know what he is?”

“I know that he’s from hell.”

I stilled. That was more than I thought he’d know. “Is the Vatican aware?”

He’d grown more hesitant as the conversation wore on. I sensed a spark of fear in his voice, but he soldiered on. “Everything about you goes into my reports.”

“Will they take any action?” What would they do, really? What could they do? But I needed to know if this was going to be an issue.

“I have no idea. I don’t have that kind of clearance.”

I believed him. I also believed that this guy was going to come in handy.

“Howard,” I said, letting a smile spread across my face. “I think we’re going to have a long and beautiful relationship.”

“But I thought—”

“How many years have you been stalking me?”

After another long pause, he said, “Observing. Seven.”

Holy cow, how did I not know these things? I was so oblivious sometimes. “Then the way I see it, you owe me seven years of indentured servitude.”

“Crap,” he said.

“You’ll be like a double agent. It’ll be fun!”

“I’m going to hell.”

“Not anytime soon, you’re not. I need you, buddy. It’s you and me against the world. Oh, hey, so do you know how to kill a hellhound?”

*   *   *

Determined to stay up with Reyes—if he couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t sleep—I fell asleep in the theater room about five minutes after we snuggled together and he started rubbing my Beep bump again. I remember being lifted—and thankful that I was only dreaming that I was being airlifted—and carried to our room. I woke up a few hours later to an empty bed.

The sun was just breaching the horizon when I put on my robe and padded down the hall to find the community toilet. I peed and was in the process of brushing my teeth when I looked out the postage stamp window. I had a view from the back of the house. All the wedding goers had left and only an occasional flower or silken streamer remained as evidence of Cookie’s special day.

I started back for the mirror, as my tongue was on fire—freaking cinnamon toothpaste—when I noticed a movement along the tree line. It was Reyes and he was sneaking out. To go fight another hellhound? Hadn’t he proved that dragging them onto sacred ground wouldn’t kill them? Maybe he was meeting that traitor Angel again.

I rinsed and spit, waving a hand in front of my face as I rushed into the darkened bedroom to throw on some clothes and hurried down the stairs. Denise was up, making breakfast. I ran, kind of, past her, then stopped and turned.

“You made bacon?” I asked, my mouth watering.

“It’s veggie bacon.”

“Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

“Do you want to try it?”

I eyed it distrustfully. “I’m not sure.”

“Sit down, I’ll fix you a plate.”

“No time. I have to catch my husband in the act.” In the act of what, I had no idea, but I was damned well about to find out.

She pursed her lips as I grabbed a piece and ran, kind of, out the door. “Okay, I’ll keep it warm,” she said.

“Thanks!” I said, not too loud, though. I had to be like a grasshopper on the wind. No! I had to be the wind.

Initializing stealth mode: now.

I skirted the tree line to get to where I’d been the day before. I had a pretty good view from there. I really just wanted to make sure my psychotic, sleep-deprived husband wasn’t wrestling hellhounds. That would have been such a great metaphor if it weren’t real. I’d have to remember it. Use it metaphorically later.

I climbed through the trees, all the while keeping a sharp eye on the drop-off. It still boggled my mind that Reyes didn’t notice me right off. If I was so bright, how could he miss me? But there he was, walking through the clearing that was supposedly beyond the border. Freaking Osh. He’d been in on whatever was going on from the first.

Reyes stopped in the middle of the clearing and Angel appeared. He’d summoned him! My investigator. I felt violated. Betrayed. Trampled on like a used napkin at the Frontier, my favorite restaurant.

The Frontier.

I started to drool again as I watched them. Easing over a fallen log and negotiating the uneven ground, I kept my head down and my breathing steady. No idea why. I totally felt like a sniper in the marines. Only I was pregnant. Other than that, and the fact that I couldn’t snipe if they’d paid me to, I embodied all that a sniper should be. Stealth. Grace. The patience of a panther on the prowl. Gawd, I had to pee.

A face in my periphery caught my attention. It was the nun. She snuck up beside me and, following my lead, kept a close vigil on the men below. I finally got a good look at her, albeit from my periphery. I didn’t want to scare her off.

She had a tiny, upturned nose, a soft face that still had the puffiness of youth, and a small, pretty mouth. The veil she wore covered her hair, but even through the grayness of her coloring, I could tell her eyebrows were light brown and her eyes hazel. We both kept our gazes locked on our targets as Reyes and Angel talked.

An idea hit me, and I finally turned to her. “Can you maybe pop down there and listen in?”

Without taking her eyes off me, she shook her head.

That was disappointing. “Can you read lips?”

No again, only this time she fought the twitching of a grin. Okay. Two could play that game.

“Then can you run up to them, jerk their pants down, then run away?”

She giggled softly. Then she was standing about ten feet from me. I decided to give up on my sniper career and see where Sister Beatrice took me today.

“Okay, but seriously, you have to wait for me this time. I mean it.”

She kept disappearing and reappearing farther down the overgrown path. If it ever was a path. We went deeper and deeper into the woods, but I had yet to come across the string that marked the border. Even so, the growls in the distance grew louder with each step I took.

“Beatrice!” I said, calling out to her. I’d lost her again and I needed to catch my breath. But before that could happen, she appeared beside me. My heart tried to leap out of my chest. I pressed a hand to hold it in and took a few deep breaths. “All right, Sister. What are you trying to show me?”

She pointed down. I followed her line of sight to the ground beneath me and realized I was standing on slats. Wooden slats. I knelt down and brushed the dirt and leaves away. I couldn’t be certain without a flashlight, but it could have been a well.

“What’s down there, sweetheart?”

Her gaze dropped to her saddle shoes, her hands wringing nervously.

“Is it you?” I asked. Did the priest kill her and dump her body in a well?

Without looking at me, she shook her head.

It hit me then. I sat back on one leg. “Is it him?” I asked her. “Is it the priest?”

She closed her eyes as shame consumed her. I had to admit, I didn’t expect that. Did she kill him? Or maybe he attacked her and she’d defended herself. It could have been any number of situations.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

She stepped forward and held out her hand. I took it, but wasn’t sure what she wanted until she nodded and closed her eyes. She was allowing me access to her memories.