Page 10

“Oh, knowing Grammy I’m sure it will be.” Gabriel chuckles.

It’s an odd turn of phrase. Turning to look at him, my gaze searches his face. “Did you know Grammy?”

“I feel like I do.” He rearranges his bulk a little, looking over his shoulder at the tomb that belongs to the St Clair family. The only name visible on the plaque is that of a Fanny St Clair, November 6, 1918 - September 2, 1994. “Not as well as I knew Miss Fanny. She helped little Gabriel navigate the world.”

“Was she a nanny?” I ask, intrigued.

Gabriel smiles softly. “Nanny. Grandmother. Mother almost. She taught me my impeccable manners.” He winks at me and a whole cavern of bats take flight in my belly.

“Oh yeah, I’m pretty certain I’ve noticed those manners a time or two,” I tease, “Although I did notice you never pull Kristie’s chair out for her when you come into the shop.”

Gabriel pulls a disgusted face that sends me into peals of laughter. “Gross! She’s my sister. She can pull out her own chair and sit her own ass down. Or ask her husband,” he grumbles.

“Let me guess, she’s the eldest?”

“Biologically. We were both raised by the same foster mom. I was there first, but Kristie is biologically older than me. Which means she’s bossy and demanding and pulls rank all the time.”

I snort. “As an only child, I can’t sympathise.”

Gabriel lets out a sigh, straightening his long legs out in front of him before crossing them at the ankles. The leather of his jacket creaks slightly with his movements. “Siblings are equal parts pain in the ass and your faithful bodyguards. I know Kristie has my back, no questions asked, just like I have hers. The cost of that is putting up with her terrible jokes, and sometimes being punched in the arm.”

I snort at the mental picture. Kristie is a tiny woman. Gabriel is built like a barn. A barn wrapped in denim and leather then smells like all my dreams come true. Brenna! Where the heck did that come from?

“I think I’m slightly smaller than a barn,” Gabriel says, eyes on Grammy’s tomb, but I don’t miss the twitching on his lips.

“Grammy, if you can hear me, come get me. I’ve died of embarrassment next to a very handsome man.”

“A handsome barn,” Gabriel adds and I groan, tipping my head back, eyes closed tight.

Keeping my eyes closed I let out a little snort. “I bet if Grammy were here right now she would be cackling her little tush off at my goofiness.”

Gabriel is quiet beside me, so quiet I wonder if he’s still there. Rolling my head to the side, I crack an eyelid open.

“Grammy’s proud of you. And she loves to see you smiling.” Gabriel’s face is so earnest, so honest, that it makes my chest ache.

My lower lip wobbles but I hold it together. Grammy is not gone. Not to me. “Grammy is the best,” I whisper, my smile watery.

“Yeah. Yeah she is.”

Chapter 5

Gabriel

OK, I have to admit when I asked Brenna if she wanted a ride home I figured that it would be a leisurely ride on my Harley softtail, her arms wrapped around my waist, her plump tits pressed against my back. What I wasn’t expecting was all that and the soul of her dead grandmother whooping and hollering from her spot on my handlebars.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter under my breath.

“What are you grumbling about? This is fantastic,” Grammy squeals, her hands in the air like she’s on a roller coaster.

“This is amazing!” Brenna hollers from behind me, and that does a little to get me out of my head.

I should be used to this shit by now. I’ve been visited by souls for as long as I can remember. In fact, I don’t recall there ever being a time in my life when I’ve been well and truly alone.

“Hoooly,” Brenna breathes, as we make our way down Bourbon Street. The city is well and truly in the throes of Halloween, with everyone going all out to decorate.

I’ve never really been much of a Halloween fan. Why would I be? Aside from the candy and the party my sister dragged me to last year, I usually stay in with a beer, takeout and whichever season of Reacher happens to be on.

“Look at that one!” Brenna’s long, slender finger draws my attention as she points to a huge skeleton on a balcony. He’s been posed to look like he’s playing the piano. Fitting as he’s perched above a jazz bar.