Remembrance (The Mediator #7)(93)

Oh, that plan.

“I was never actually going to go through with that bargain, Jesse. I was going to use the handcuffs and taser on him that you put in the car for Father Francisco. But then—”

“Nombre de Dios.” He looked heavenward. “I suppose because I showed up here, you couldn’t. And it’s a good thing that I did. A man like Slater, who has no scruples about using force against a woman, would only have enjoyed—”

“No. I used those on Delgado. Paul would have figured out what I was up to if I’d brought that bag up to his hotel room. I used the sleeping pills on him instead.”

Jesse shook his head incredulously. “And did you see how effective they were? He takes pills like those for recreation, Susannah!”

“I know.” My shoulders sagged. “I guess noncompliant living persons aren’t really my specialty.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Come here.”

I’d been studying my shoes. Now I looked up, feeling a twinge of hope. “What?”

“I said come here. You’re shivering.”

I took a step toward him, and he peeled off his suit jacket and laid it over my shoulders.

He might have been angry with me—and part demon—but unlike Paul, who was all human, he was still a gentleman. The heat from his body quickly penetrated mine, warming me all over.

More than the warmth from his jacket, however, the fresh clean scent of him and the brush of his fingers against my skin reminded me how much I loved him.

“Oh, Jesse,” I said. “Can we not fight? It’s the worst.”

He appeared unmoved. “No, Susannah. The worst is hearing that your future wife has volunteered to open a mediator school in her old home for the sole purpose of educating Paul Slater’s daughters.”

“Jesse, come on. You know that it isn’t what I meant. Not a school. I was thinking of the clinic we’ve always talked about opening. You’ll look after children’s physical well-being, and I’ll look after their mental health. You should see the promo design CeeCee came up with . . .”

“You can’t open a medical clinic in a residential neighborhood, Susannah.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, yeah, you’re probably right. We’ll just have to live there, then.”

“In the house where I died?”

“In the house where we fell in love. A house I scored for free, in case you missed that part.”

Any couple that had spent as much time as we had in a long-distance relationship (not only because we’d been away at different colleges, but because one of us had been undead for a part of the time we’d been together) was bound to fight—us maybe even more than other couples, given our peculiar situation . . .

But we’d never had a fight like this.

Resolving conflicts is what I do, however. There are lots of ways to resolve conflicts. Not all of them include weapons.

At least, not weapons that come in a sports bag.

And from the heat that I’d seen flare in Jesse’s eyes, I was beginning to get a good idea what kind of weapon would be best used to resolve this conflict. Fortunately, it was one I had in my arsenal. I’d been trying to use it on him, to little avail, for a long, long time.

Thanks to Paul, I now had a good idea why. It was the last thing he’d set out to do, but Paul had, in trying to split Jesse and me apart, handed me the key to finally bringing us together.

“Come on.” I reached out to seize him by the belt and was pleased when he allowed me to tug him a few inches toward me. “The best way to resolve this issue is to prove Paul wrong.”

The eyebrow with the crescent-shaped scar lifted. “In what way?”

“I think if there’s even the slightest doubt that there’s something wicked still lurking inside you,” I said, pulling him even closer, “we should work on unleashing it. It’s basically my duty as a mediator, in fact.”

He was now leaning against me, pressing me back against Jake’s car. I could feel the steady drum of his heartbeat through the material of his suit coat, along with the muscles of his thighs against mine. The heat he was giving off made it hard for me to believe there was any part of him at all that might possibly still be in the grave. But you never know.

His mouth twisted. “Susannah—”

“Shhh. I’ve been training for this for a long time.” I was still holding on to his belt buckle. “I’m ready to take on this very important mission.”

“Susannah.” He had a hand on either side of the car, trapping me within his long, muscular arms. “I know you’re joking, but this is serious. You wouldn’t have gone through all this if you didn’t at least partly believe—”

“I’m not joking, and it doesn’t matter what I believe.” I fiddled with his belt buckle. “What do you believe? If the real reason you’ve put off our making love for so long is fear that it might release something unholy, then I think we have an obligation to find out.” I kept my gaze on his, my fingers locked on his belt buckle. “The truth is, Jesse, I ain’t afraid of no ghost.”

He looked down at me with dark eyes that were filled with something unreadable.

“Perhaps,” he said, dropping his hands to my waist, “you’re right.”