It didn’t matter if I wasn’t alive. Having the double barrel of a shotgun pointing in my direction was unnerving.
I ducked out of reflex, but Cole did something even stranger. He shoved his hands between his seat and the center console and pulled out a big slab of dried beef jerky. With the other hand, he rolled down his window. The moment Angel leapt for the door, he chucked the meat like a frisbee across the yard. The dog was off running in the next second, sights now trained on the treat.
“See,” Cole whispered, his rising and falling chest revealing that he was more scared than he let on. “We have a love-hate relationship.”
My heart pounded in my chest. I didn’t mind dogs. Even better—puppies. Puppies were cute. They were snuggly. All they wanted were kisses and love. What I did mind was massive beasts with sharp teeth that were trained to kill on command. Angel was no angel, that was for sure.
As Cole reached for the door handle, he leaned close to me and whispered in a rush, “By the way, Wyatt doesn’t know what I am, and I would like to keep it that way.”
I blinked, a little stunned. “What—why?”
He opened the door and quickly jumped out of the car. “You’ll see. Oh, and be careful where you step.” He slammed the door shut before I could press for more.
Sometimes he was really irritating.
I got out, too, looking from Angel, who had found the jerky in the brush by the fence and was munching it, to the cowboy Wyatt, who still hadn’t lowered his gun. Every time Cole moved, the barrel followed him. I never thought I’d ever be so thankful for being invisible to the living.
Some friend Wyatt was. Where did Cole find these crazies?
Cole’s hands shot up into the air, and his shirt pulled up, revealing a strip of pale, muscular midsection, lightly dusted with blond hair. If there were any other time, I may have bit my lip and admired such a beautiful specimen, but I became a little distracted by what rode on his hips, a concealed belt fully stocked with bullet cartridges, two handguns, vials of Holy Water, and a sheathed dagger. He was packing in more ways than one.
“Wyatt,” Cole called out as he approached the porch. “It’s just me.”
Wyatt’s gun never wavered. “You broke my gate’s lock again,” he shot back. His voice was abrasive and raspy, like sandpaper scraping against metal. Harsh.
“I’ll buy you another one,” Cole said, glancing my way, a silent signal for me to stay close behind him.
Wyatt’s stare hardened. “You owe me six already.”
“I’ll buy you six next time I come by, then. And a twelve-pack of beer. How does that sound?”
That made Wyatt lower the gun, but his glare never eased. “I want the one Sean got me that one time.” He smacked his lips. “Somethin’ Bastard. Somethin’—”
“Sean?” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.
“His son,” Cole mumbled, his lips barely moving.
“Somethin’… Somethin’…”
“Arrogant Bastard?” Cole offered.
“Yes, that’s it. Expensive. Tasty. None of that cheap piss water stuff.”
Cole’s hands lowered back to his sides. “Arrogant Bastard. It matches you.”
He climbed up the porch steps and clapped Wyatt on the back. Wyatt, though, didn’t relax much.
A prickle of warning raced up my spine, and I whipped around to find Angel sitting behind me, her ears perked up in curiosity and her tongue running over her lips from her recent snack. I froze, afraid to move.
The animal was staring right at me, but the ferocious beast I had seen before was gone. She cocked her head to the side, as if she were only confused by me.
I wasn’t surprised Angel could sense me here. It was unclear how much of me she could actually see, but she definitely knew I was here, in front of her. I found out fairly early during my training that animals were much more sensitive to the dead than humans were. They could track my movements.
Ever get freaked out when a dog or cat stares at nothing? Well, you should be. More than likely, you have a spirit.
A sharp whistle rang out, jerking Angel’s attention back to her master on the porch. Cole was staring at us with wide eyes.
“What is with you, girl?” Wyatt called. “Come here.”