Page 31 of Paris and the Reaper

“Uh-oh,” Rena said, brow lifted. “Are we going to have to referee a match between him and Adam?” she asked Liam.

Paris opened his mouth to reply, but Liam beat him to it. “No, honey, he’s bonded to Mac.”

Her assessing gaze shot back to him, even as she directed her question at Liam. “That’s still possible? After?—”

“Apparently.”

Paris shook his head, losing the thread back around the wordbond. “I’m sorry, what?—”

Before he could finish his question, Cherry and Abernathy came racing back toward them, each waving what looked like pot holders at Liam. “Dad! Look it!”

“Amazing!” Liam oohed and aahed like a good parent should, until Rena eventually nipped the too late party in the bud. “We need to get them home and to bed.”

The kids booed, but Liam gamely lifted one on each hip, advising, “Your mom is the smartest person on Earth. We have to do what she says. She’s always right.”

“I thought that was Mary,” Abernathy said.

“Smartest,” Liam said. “Mary’s the most powerful.”

Mary? Who was that? Paris was lost again.

“Can you show him to Mac’s quarters?” Liam said to Rena, then said to Paris, “I’ll be back to unpack once I get them to sleep.”

Paris shook his head and held out his hand. “Give me the keys and I’ll take care of it.” He counted it a win that Liam didn’t hesitate.

“Are Monte and Chaz here?” Liam asked Rena as he kissed her cheek once more.

“Down by the lake preparing for containment. Two of the coyotes are on guard.”

“Good,” Liam said with a nod, then readjusted the kids on his hips and shot Paris a smile. “Make yourself at home.”

Once Liam carried the children out the front door, Rena closed it behind him, then waved Paris deeper into the house. “There’s a lake here?” he asked, and they made conversation while he stared agape at the vaulted ceilings, at the artwork from prominent Indigenous artists, at the recently repaired sections of the walls and floor, the paints and stains not an exact match, not as aged as sections around them. Those repaired places increased in frequency as they made their way to the back of the house, then into a suite of rooms at one end, a bedroom, sitting room, and office, the latter nothing like the cabin but exactly like it. Laptops open, files scattered across an oversize desk, a notepad with the chicken scratch Paris recognized.

“You can hang out here.” Rena pointed at another door on the other side of the office. “There’s a guest bedroom over there.” He didn’t mention that he and Mac had been sharing a bed for days. Rena’s ringing phone saved him from the lie. “I need to take this.”

“Sure thing,” Paris said. While she took her call in the hallway, he circled behind the desk, figuring he could distracthimself from what might be happening with Jason and Kai, with the only family he had left, by continuing his and Mac’s work. Grabbing the stack of files he recognized as the detective’s cold cases, he sank into the chair and pulled them closer, flipping through to see if any jogged a memory or rattled loose another soul. Nothing in the first few.

He shuttled the third case file to the no luck stack, then turned back to start on the fourth, only to be stopped cold by the black-and-white photo that had been wedged between the folders. Two men, their clothes from a time Paris had only read about in history books, the environs behind them unrecognizable, but he’d recognize the taller of the two men anywhere. Long, rangy body, dark hair and eyes, a sharp nose and that soft smile Paris couldn’t get out of his head. Only in the photo it was directed at the man standing in his arms. Shorter, broader, laughing with his head thrown back, his light hair caught in the breeze. What had Mac said to make him do that? Who was he to Mac? When he’d finished laughing, had Mac drawn him back upright and kissed him? It was a simple picture, and yet one of the most romantic Paris had ever seen.

A gasp from the doorway crashed through Paris’s spiraling thoughts, and for a panicked second, he thought it would be Mac standing there, but it was Rena, her eyes wide as she clutched her phone to her chest. “I’ve only seen that picture out of the safe once since Mac moved in here.”

“It was between these file folders,” he said, gesturing at the two stacks he’d made before staring again at the photo. “Who is he?”

“The reason Mac will push you away. Don’t let him.”

“What did Liam mean that Mac and I are bonded?”

“You need to talk to Mac about that.”

He set the photo aside and splayed a hand over his chest. “It’s why I can feel him here, isn’t it?” Her eyes widened impossiblyfurther, mouth rounding into anO. She must not have believed Liam when he’d said it, but she believed now. “I grabbed hold of him that night I almost died. I didn’t know what else to do, but if he’s already bonded to someone, if he didn’t want to be bonded to me?—”

“Have you felt him tug back?” Rena asked.

He held her gaze and nodded.

“Trust that,” she said. “And trust yourself.”

SEVENTEEN

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