Page 46 of Shades of Silver City

“You’re gonna get me fired.” Reaching up to rub her temples, she begins pacing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I stare at her, aghast. “Two guys attacked you, and you’re worried about losing your job?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time men have used violence to get their way,” she mutters. “Won’t be the last.”

Sorrow slices my gut. Suddenly, I want to know the name of every person who ever hurt her, so I can make sure they never do it again.

“It’s fine. I don’t love bartending anyway,” she says quickly, brushing off the previous comments she made as if they’re nothing.

“Good. Then you’ll accept my job offer.” When she shoots a glare at me, I can’t help my responding smirk.

Then I can keep her close. Make sure no one bothers her again. Problem solved. Everyone wins.

She steps forward, planting her dainty hands on my chest, and shoves me backward with more force than I would have expected. I stumble, and my eyes widen as my back crashes into the dirt wall. My smile grows.

I think I like her aggression.

“What the hell are you smiling at?” she asks.

I shake my head. “You’re stronger than you look.”

“And you’re stupider than you look if you think kidnapping me is the way to my heart.”

“Good thing I’m not trying to win your heart. Just your assistance.” I chuckle. “And I view it as life-saving, not kidnapping.”

She pauses, studying me. “You don’t want me. You want my ability as a soul-seer.” Before I can respond, she says, “When someone’s soul-shade turns grey, the Reaper comes for them. Because they’re dying.”

“I surmise that is the case, yes.”

“Not a question.” She glares at me. “I’m processing aloud.”

“All right. Process away.”

“So, I can essentially sense death,” she mutters, “and you can also sense death…but in another way?” When I don’t reply, she sighs. “That was a question.”

“You’re awfully hostile.”

“I know,” she says, catching me off guard. She inclines her chin. “I’m sorry.” She sighs. “These last few days have been a lot. I found a dead body, got assaulted at work, and got kidnapped twice by a gangster.”

And all things considered, she’s handling the situation well. She’s right. I did sort of kidnap her, even though my intention was to help. The profanities she’s been hurling my way are deserved.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I mutter.

“For what it’s worth…I am.” She takes a deep breath and glances away.

An awkward silence stretches between us. Something tells me she doesn’t apologize often, and somehow, that makes her effort more meaningful. I rack my brain to think of something to say—anything to dissipate the weird energy.

“Yes,” I say, answering her earlier question, “I can sense death another way.”

“Do you sense it right now?”

I give her a puzzled look. “Well, no.”

“Good.” Her lips tilt into a small smile. “That means I’m not dying. Which would mean the Reaper wouldn’t come for me, right?” She crosses her arms.

“Technically, no. He only reaps the souls of those who are dying.”

“Then how did you save my life? It sounds like I wasn’t in any danger. If you hadn’t come for those drunken men, the Reaper would’ve. And if I’m perfectly alive, he couldn’t have claimed my soul.”

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