Fated (The Soul Seekers #1)(103)

The thought causing me to realize something else—how much Jennika probably misses me. I’m all she’s got. For sixteen years we’ve been a team. She’s purposely avoided getting close to anyone else. Even with Harlan, she’s careful to keep a safe distance. And while I know it frustrates him, he chooses to accept her on her limited terms. But as much as she tries to avoid it, there’s no doubt Jennika needs a home just as much as I do. She needs friends—a life outside of work. She needs all the things I now have for myself—only in L.A., not here.

“So what now?” I ask, a new idea forming in my head.

She sighs, folds her arms across her chest, looking tired when she says, “Well, now that you’re here, I guess I’ll grab a short nap, check in with Paloma, and be on my way.”

“What about your makeovers?” I motion toward the kitchen. “Looks like you’ve built quite a fan club.”

Jennika laughs, the sound light and weary, making her way down the ramp when I decide to just say it, just toss it out there and see where it lands.

“You know, if you’re looking for a roommate in L.A.…”

She stops, unsure where I’m going.

“Well, you might consider Marliz. I mean, I know she’s engaged and all—but he’s kind of a jerk, and—”

My words cut short when she says, “They broke up.”

I stare at her, speechless.

“It’s been a crazy night.” She lifts her shoulders, her gaze growing distant as she mentally reviews it. “The stuff I saw…” She shakes her head, causing her hair to flop in her eyes. “Well, I’m clearly running a serious sleep deficit.”

“So you’ll consider it, then? Asking her, I mean?” Jennika shrugs, pushing past me when I add, “Listen, I need to step outside—will you tell Dace I’ll be back in a minute?” Allowing her no time to reply before I’m slipping out the back door and making my way past the detached garage, through the gate, and halfway down the dirt road where a black, four-wheel-drive pickup truck is parked on the shoulder.

Barely making it to the driver’s side window when Cade says, “You hurt my feelings.” He shoots me a wounded look.

“I wasn’t aware that you had any.” I stand before him, gazing into those cold, vacant eyes.

“The way you just ran off like that—you didn’t even stick around to celebrate.” He shakes his head sadly. “Wasn’t the same without you. You know I had those sugar skull candies made especially for you, ended up feeding ’em to Coyote instead.”

“Sorry,” I say, my expression anything but. “I had a soul to retrieve.”

He nods, face thoughtful when he says, “I hear Paloma recovered.”

I lift my shoulders, my gaze locked on his. “Funny, I heard the same thing.”

“You must feel pretty good about yourself.” He squints, pushes his fingers through his hair, checking his reflection in the rearview mirror, and despite having left him engulfed in flames, he looks no worse for the wear.

“Actually, I think you’re underestimating it. I feel pretty damn awesome.”

His icy-blue eyes meet mine, striving to absorb my energy, my essence—trying to change my perception, make me see things his way—but it won’t work. I’m totally onto him.

“You know Lita’s inside? In fact, all of your friends are inside. And not one of them seems to miss you.”

He studies his hands, inspecting his cuticles, not saying a word.

“What’s the matter?” I taunt. “El Coyote can’t make it past Paloma’s coyote fence? Is that why you’re waiting out here, hoping they’ll come to you? ’Cause I gotta tell you, Richter, from what I saw, they’re not even thinking about you. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.”

“So, why don’t you invite me in, and we can remind them?” He grins, face lit with possibility.

“Never,” I say, but he laughs at the word.

“Saw you with my brother.” His gaze moves over me. “Guess that explains your attraction to me—he looks just like me.”

His cocky grin fading when I roll my eyes in response.

“Well, you sure spend a lot of time thinking about me—searching for me—don’t you, Santos?” he says, determined to make me admit the ridiculous.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Coyote. It’s an occupational hazard. Purely job related,” I say, seeing the way he drums his fingers against the steering wheel, wearing a smirk so smug and arrogant, I long to wipe it right off his face.

“You’re truly gifted, Santos. I saw that tonight. A little too soft in the heart, but there’s no reason we can’t remedy that. Shame to see you waste your gifts on my brother.”

“You’d rather I waste them on you?”

“Yes,” he says, not a hint of irony in his voice. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you and yet, look how you treat me. I don’t know what you’ve been told, but you’ve got me all wrong.”

“You stole my grandmother’s soul!” I say, my voice outraged. “You call that playing nice?”

He shrugs, rubs a thumb over the face of his watch. “Maybe not nice, but it had to be done. And yet, look how you managed to save it—while allowing several of my people to remain in the Lowerworld. It’s pretty much a win-win, wouldn’t you say? See how well we work together?”