Page 66 of Bitter Spirits

“Thank Des,” he grudgingly said. “With the cameras down, I was hitting a shit ton of dead ends. I managed to follow the SUV in a general direction before I lost track. I had Roxy scrubbing traffic cams, but it was one of Des’s contacts that gave us the house. Since it was in the same direction as where I lost your trail, we decided to risk it.”

“I’m glad you did.”

So was he. He cleared his throat as he took a turn. “And the girl, Cora?”

Her lingering amusement faded away. “Another one of his victims.”

“What happened?”

She turned to look out the passenger window. “She and Angel got into an argument. It turned violent, and at some point, he shoved her. She fell back into the mantel and hit her head. Game over.”

He remembered the frenzied spirit and the spiraling madness that had tried to infect him while Isa looked at him with cold eyes. “It must have been some argument.” He felt Isa turn to watch him. “She had a hell of a hold on you.”

“I made her a promise,” she said with resigned determination.

He remembered what Des had said when he was trying to reach Isa. “And it has to be kept.”

Isa’s silence spoke volumes.

He took a breath and stepped into the unknown. “What happens if it can’t be kept?”

The silence grew heavier.

“Isa?” he pushed.

“I have to finish this, Locke.”

His gut knotted as she continued to avoid his question, but something warned him to tread lightly. “I’m not saying you won’t, but what happens if Cora doesn’t get what she thinks she paid for?”

There was a long pause. “One way or another, a Reaper always pays their debt.”

There was an ominous finality to her answer, and he knew that was the only one she’d give him. Maybe it should have pissed him off, but it just left him worried.

Maribel Ortiz, the Cordovas’ lawyer, accompanied a wan-looking Paisley into the small conference room at the medical clinic. Catching sight of Locke and Isa sitting at the table, the girl froze and shot Mari a panicked look.

“You said I only had to talk to him. Who’s she?”

“A friend of Isaiah’s older brother, Micah.” Dressed in her typical stiletto heels, tailored blouse, and skirt, Mari nudged the younger woman toward a chair. “She’s just here to listen.” The lawyer shot Isa a warning glare as she poured a glass of water from a nearby pitcher.

Paisley took a seat. Mari set the glass in front of her.

“You remember Locke Turon?” she asked as she went around Paisley to take the seat on the other side.

Paisley cupped her shaky hands around the glass and lifted it to take a drink. A tremor hit her, and a couple of drops hit the table as she set the glass back down. She raised bloodshot eyes to Locke. “You’re the one that brought me here. With the car.”

“I am.”

Her gaze darted to Mari then back to Locke as she moved the glass in small circles, smearing the drips over the dark tabletop. “She told me you’re looking for Isaiah. For his brother, right?”

He nodded and wasn’t surprised when she mimicked the gesture with a jerky nod of her own. She wiped a hand under her nose then dropped her hands to her lap.

“Isaiah won’t go home. He’s pissed. Said he was tired of getting his ass reamed about shit that wasn’t important.” Paisley shot a look at Isa. “Maybe you can tell his brother to back off.”

In the seat next to Locke, Isa shifted, the air around her filled with intent. Under the table, he put a warning hand on her knee. She shot him a glare. He raised an eyebrow. Her mouth thinned in a rebellious pout, but she sat back and folded her arms.

He turned back to Paisley and pinned her in place with a cool stare. “His brother’s in a coma.”

Paisley’s skin turned a sickly shade of gray, and her eyes widened. “It wasn’t Isaiah. He didn’t do anything to him.”