Grave Intentions Read Free Page B

nature of torment and degradation. He let loose an involuntary shudder at the memory of what he’d seen, of what he’d been subjected to.
    The bartender returned with a fresh round of drinks. Adam took a long pull from his beer, his focus fixed on the TV above the bar. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
    “Sure you can.” Feeling uncharacteristically sympathetic, he clapped a hand on Adam’s shoulder. He’d never been any good with the comforting thing, but he figured it was worth a try. “Look, we’ve all been in your shoes. I know you’re not going to believe me right now, but after a while, you get used to it.”
    Adam pulled the glass away from his mouth. He stared at David, his expression anything but convinced. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”
    A faint smile creased the corners of David’s mouth. “Don’t blame you, kid. I didn’t believe my handler, either. But it’s the truth. Eventually, you’ll figure out your own way of coping.” He let out a sigh and raked a hand through his short blond hair. “We all do.” He raised his glass in a toast before tossing back the double shot of whiskey. The liquor blazed a trail down his throat, making his eyes water and reminding him for a brief moment that yes, he was indeed still alive.
    Technically.
    “How?” Adam caught David’s pale gaze in the mirror behind the bar. “How can anybody get used to what we did today?”
    “It’s different for everybody,” David replied with a shrug. He pointed to the opposite end of the bar. “You see the big guy over there by the dart boards?”
    Adam’s eyes squinted as he strained to see through the dim haze of smoke. “The one with the tattoo on the back of his neck?”
    “Yeah. That’s Dmitri. He copes by doing the extreme sports thing. You know, sky diving, bungee jumping, drag racing, shit like that.”
    “He’s a—” Not wanting to say “reaper” in a bar full of mortals, Adam paused to choose his words carefully. “He’s one of us?”
    “You got it.” David dug a handful of peanuts from the bowl on the bar and tossed them into his mouth. Still chewing, he gave Adam a little time to watch Dmitri close out his game with a double bull’s-eye. “And the guy playing eight ball with the floozy in the tube top?” He motioned toward the pool table. “That’s Martin. He specializes in bar fights and vigilantism. He’ll also fuck anything with a pulse and a port of entry, so I wouldn’t drop the soap around him, if you get my drift.” He let out a short snort of amusement at the deer-in-the-headlights look on Adam’s face.
    “Just how many of us are there?” Adam asked, looking more shell-shocked by the second.
    “Damn, Samuel didn’t tell you much during the orientation, did he?” David chuckled. Figures. Knowledge was power, and Samuel loved keeping his people in the dark. David leaned up against the bar and did a quick mental count. “I don’t know how many of us there are world-wide, but there’s seven of us in Metro Orlando.” It was the most they’d ever had in the area. But with the population boom in The City Beautiful, they’d had no choice but to increase their numbers.
    “And who do we have here?” a feminine voice said from behind.
    “Hello, Ruby,” David said, his voice taking on a tired tone.
    “Why hello there, Soldier Boy,” Ruby’s husky voice purred as she situated her willowy frame between the two barstools.
    Tonight, she was dressed to kill in black leather pants and a top so tight it fit her like a second skin. The choker around her neck was black lace, a bold contrast to her pale skin and vibrant auburn hair.
    She brushed up against David and he felt the warmth of her breast pressing against the fabric of his shirt. There was a time when her touch boiled his blood. But not anymore. No, it had been a long time since he’d felt much of anything. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, her breath warm against his ear.
    Here we go again. David