PROLOGUE
The celestial Chamber of Judgment was not cozy by any stretch of the imagination. Most of the time it appeared to be nothing more than white roiling walls of mist, which the angel Agon found downright dreary. But his associate Samael deemed it necessary, believing that human souls facing judgment were better off with no distractions. This was probably why Samael’s face was now scrunched in open disapproval—an expression Agon had grown used to over the centuries.
“What,” Samael demanded, pointing an elegant finger at the object against the chamber wall, “is that?” With his blond ringlets and cherub cheeks, he looked like a Renaissance painting of a frazzled choir boy.
It made Agon want to smile, but he refrained. For an angel as old as himself, he’d learned a thing or two. Instead, he drew up to his full height, impressive even by angelic standards, and stretched his snowy wings wide. “It’s called a recliner,” he said cheerfully. “For sitting and resting. Very comforting to humans, from what I gather.”
Samael looked incredulous. “I’ve told you before, this is no place of solace. Human souls are summoned here to face judgment, and not all of them are headed to a comfortable destination.”
“True.” Agon sat on the edge of the overstuffed chair, swiveling left, then right. “But I see no harm in offering them a place to rest while we review their lives. If nothing else, it will provide an alternative to their usual pacing and wringing of hands and stumbling about in distress. It is pitiable when they do that, you must admit.”
Samael sighed, shook his head and turned toward the wall of mist. A good sign, Agon decided. For now, it seemed the new chair could stay. Perhaps later he could bring in a few other earthly things to liven up the place, but what was that human expression? Ah, yes. Baby steps.
“We haven’t time for your antics,” Samael muttered, waving a hand at the wall of mist. “Our wayward rogue is about to learn a valuable lesson.”
The mist cleared, revealing a city street at night. A swarthy stranger in a black leather jacket and designer jeans pulled his motorcycle to a stop outside a sports bar.
Agon rose from the chair and went to stand beside Samael as they watched the scene unfold. “You’re sure this man is just like Liam O’Connor?”
“He has all the same traits as the rogue,” Samael said. “The arrogance, the selfish motives, the questionable morals. He wasn’t originally scheduled to cross paths with Liam, but it was easy enough to arrange.”
Agon tilted his dark head, studying the man who was now sauntering toward the entrance of the bar. A neon sign that read ROOKIES blinked above the door. “And you’re certain introducing this man to Liam will serve a useful purpose?”
Samael crossed his arms. “It will be good for Liam to see his own personality traits reflected in someone else. Perhaps then, through serious introspection, the rogue will realize his many faults and be at peace with the task we’ve given him.”
“Perhaps,” Agon said, though he wasn’t so sure. Liam O’Connor and peace did not seem to mix. The man was hell-bent on winning Cora McLeod for himself, no matter how much he assured the angels he was trying to help Cora achieve her true destiny by marrying Finley Walsh. Agon knew what desperation looked like in a man’s eyes, and paired with determination, it could be a dangerous combination. Liam had both in abundance. “I hope it works. He only has two months left to achieve his task.”
Samael let out a huff. “It has to work. We can’t interfere with his free will, and this is the last thing I could think of to help steer him in the right direction. We’ve already agreed to some of the ‘boosts’ he’s asked for. Rudimentary computer knowledge. Fair warning when we plan to visit. We’ve even made it so he’d no longer feel pain whenever he and Cora touch.” He gave Agon a stern look. “That last one was only because you advocated so strongly on his behalf.”
“I think we can trust him to make the right decisions,” Agon said. “I know he seems like a lost cause, but let us have faith that he will prevail.”
“Mmm, faith,” Samael said as they watched the tall man disappear into the bar. “In a rogue. What could possibly go wrong?”
1
Liam O’Connor wrapped his arm around Cora McLeod, shifting her body so she was exactly where he wanted her, flush against his. “Now, don’t overthink it. Just let it happen.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Cora’s voice was like a whisper of silk against his skin.
He closed his eyes, savoring the exquisite nearness of her. He’d waited lifetimes to hold her in his arms again.
“You can go now, Liam.” Cora stuck her tongue between her teeth, squinted one eye and aimed at the dartboard on the wall. “I’ve got this.”
Liam stepped back, already missing her warmth and the sweet herbal scent of her hair. It had been several days since he’d learned he could touch her without that initial snap of pain, and he’d been elated the angels had granted him that. There weren’t many reasons to like those two, but that was a big one.
It was her friend Suzette Wilson’s idea for them to all come to Rookies, a sports bar near the Providence Falls university district. Suzette had insisted Cora and Liam needed to spend Saturday night doing something fun with “normal people,” and she wasn’t wrong. They’d been wrapped up in police work ever since the murder of John Brady, a respected businessman in the community who also happened to be the husband of Liam’s ex-mistress. It had been a complicated month, and if it wasn’t for the kindhearted Cora and the well-meaning street kid Billy Mac intervening on his behalf, Liam might’ve lost his only chance at redemption. Now he had two months left to save his immortal soul, but he could focus on that tomorrow. Tonight it was nice to get out and do something carefree.
“You can do it, Cora,” a man’s deep voice said from the bar.
Liam hid his grimace with a swig of beer. Suzette had also taken it upon herself to invite the world’s greatest bore, Finley Walsh. Unfortunately, Finn was Cora’s destined soul mate, and as much as Liam hated the task the angels had given him, he had to somehow find a way to make Cora fall in love with the man. If he didn’t succeed, well... Best not to think about the alternative.
Cora drew her hand back and let the dart fly. It missed the entire board by a good eighteen inches, landing with a thunkagainst the wood-paneled wall. She gave a frustrated growl and stomped her foot, which made Liam smile. Cora was adorable. Standing before him in blue jeans, a fitted cream sweater and heeled boots, the top of her head barely reached his chin, but she had enough feisty spirit to rival anyone. A blond curl fell across her sun-kissed face, and Liam struggled with the urge to reach out and smooth it back. She had no idea how beautiful she was to him. No idea how much he wanted her.
“Wow, Cora,” Suzette called over the blaring music. “You’re doing so much better!” Perched on a bar stool, Suzette raised her margarita glass in tribute. Her red hair was loose around her face, and her laugh was contagious. She jerked a thumb at a girl dressed in a referee shirt. “Last time you almost took out that server’s eye.”
The server made a wide berth around Cora and Liam, hefting a tray of drinks above her head. She hurried toward a group of college guys watching a boxing match on one of the flat-screen TVs. In another corner of the bar, a loud cheer erupted over a baseball game, and a boisterous group of fans gave each other high fives and slaps on the back. The air was thick with a mixture of booze and fried chicken wings and cheap cologne. Rookies was one of those relaxed hangouts where everyone talked a little too loud and drank a little too much. Liam loved it.
“It’s official. I suck at darts,” Cora said in defeat. She placed her last dart in Liam’s hand. “I think it’s safer if I quit now before I maim someone.”
“Don’t give up yet,” Finn said. “You’re making progress.” He was sitting next to Suzette, and he’d been nursing the same beer for the past hour, the lightweight. He looked out of place in his pressed slacks and collared shirt, and for the millionth time, Liam wondered how on earth he was supposed to get Cora to fall in love with someone so painfully dull.
“No, I’m not making progress,” Cora said with a sigh. “But thank you for pretending.”
“I bet you’ll even hit the board next time,” Finn encouraged.
Cora laughed. “I’m afraid that’s a bet you’d lose.”
“He’s not much of a betting man, anyway,” someone said from the doorway. “Are you, Finn?”
They all turned as a tall, broad-shouldered man approached. He wore a leather motorcycle jacket the same dark shade as his hair, and he walked slowly, almost arrogantly, as if he had all the time in the world. There was a day’s worth of stubble on his jaw, and a devil-may-care glint in his eye, and he seemed to know Finn, which Liam found surprising. This man appeared to be Finn’s polar opposite, and therefore, somewhat interesting.
“Magnus,” Finn said. He turned to the group and made introductions, explaining, “This is my colleague Magnus Blackwell. He’s an attorney at Johnston and Knight, too.”
“I’m surprised to see you here, Finn,” Magnus drawled. “Didn’t think this place was your speed.”
“I like it just fine.”
“Really?” Magnus’s polite smile was so genuine that Liam almost missed the skepticism behind it. The only reason he caught it at all was because he, himself, was an expert at subterfuge. Growing up thieving in nineteenth-century Ireland during the potato famine had given Liam plenty of opportunities to practice.
“Then maybe you should come out to the racetrack sometime,” Magnus said to Finn. “Bring your Porsche and put it through its paces, for once.”
Finn shook his head. “Not my thing.”
“No?” Magnus didn’t look surprised. He addressed Liam and the girls with a conspiratorial smile. “I never could understand why some people own fast cars but never bother to let them loose.”
“You race cars?” Liam stared at him with a mixture of admiration and envy. His own car couldn’t win a race against his elderly neighbor Mrs. Gilmore, and she walked with a cane. Why the angels stuck him with such an outdated heap of junk for an automobile, he’d never understand. It was probably some kind of lesson in humility, the bastards.
Magnus sized up Liam. “Sometimes, though not as much as I used to.”
“Wow, racing cars. That sounds so—” Suzette’s voice dipped to a sultry purr “—dangerous.”
Magnus gave a cocky smile. “Not if you know how to handle them. I teach stunt driving at the track once a month. There’s a class this weekend, if any of you want to check it out.”
Cora and Suzette laughed and gave their excuses, but Liam was already making plans to look up the class with his newfound computer skills. He wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to get behind the wheel of a sports car and just go for it. The thrill of racing in such a powerful machine! Who wouldn’t want to fly like the wind, if they had the chance? Oh, right. Liam flicked a glance at Finn. The world’s biggest bore.
Finn was scrolling through emails on his phone, ignoring Magnus. His expression remained carefully neutral, but Liam had the distinct feeling he was struggling with a negative emotion.
“So...” Magnus slapped his hands, rubbing them together. “Did I walk in on a bet over a game of darts?”
“Oh, no.” Cora waved a hand. “I’m terrible at darts, and Finn was just teasing me.”
“I wasn’t teasing, Cora,” Finn said, looking up from his phone. “I think you were really improving.”
“How about you and me, man?” Magnus jerked his chin at Finn, a challenging glint in his eye. “A friendly game of darts. Say, twenty dollars to the winner?”
“No, thanks.” Finn drank the last of his beer and signaled the bartender for another.
“Come on,” Magnus said. “Darts isn’t even my game, so you’ll probably win. It’ll be fun. What do you say, ladies? Want to see me fail miserably?”
“I do,” Suzette sang out, eyeing Magnus like he was a prime cut of beef. “And if darts isn’t your game, I want to know what is.”
He gave her a slow smile and winked. “Tell you later.”
Suzette’s eyes sparkled with interest, and she gave a fluttery sigh. She was so visibly impressed by the man, Liam wouldn’t have been surprised if she melted into a puddle on the floor.
He almost laughed. Magnus was a smooth talker, but Liam knew a hustler when he saw one. Magnus had all the moves—the charm, the easy smile, the casual wager. In fact, Liam would bet good money Magnus was great at darts and was trying to swindle Finn. Liam was beginning to like the guy, just on principle.
Suzette giggled then whispered something in Cora’s ear. The two of them wandered into the crowd with their heads together, talking about whatever it was women talked about.
“So,” Magnus said, turning to Finn, “you in?”
“No,” Finn said flatly. He appeared cool on the surface, but Liam could tell he was bothered. How marvelous. This night was getting more entertaining by the second.
“I’ll play,” Liam offered with a shrug. “Though darts isn’t really my game, either.” He gave Magnus a vacuous smile. It had been a long time since he’d had a chance to cheat someone out of their money. Though Liam hadn’t grown up playing darts, years of hunting, target practice and other varying games of skill—not to mention the manual dexterity involved in thieving and occasionally running for his life—made darts look like child’s play. This was going to be fun.
Magnus gave an amiable nod. “Let’s do it.”
The match was ridiculous. Magnus was clearly throwing the game. Liam knew all the rules in the hustler’s handbook. Magnus’s score was always one or negative one when he busted out, but Liam wasn’t fooled. He could tell Magnus had considerable skill and was holding back. So Liam went along for the ride, enjoying every second as Magnus played poorly on purpose. Liam matched him with terrible moves of his own, and they continued to bust out over and over until, finally, Liam made a “lucky” toss and won the game.
Magnus shook his head in defeat. “Told you I wasn’t any good.”
“I’m sure you’ll do better next time,” Liam said, playing his part.
Magnus started to hand over a twenty then stopped, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “How about one more game?”
And there it was. The hook. Liam’s grin was genuine. People never changed, no matter the century. “Nah, I’m good.”
“You sure?” Magnus asked. “We could make it more interesting. Say, one hundred dollars to the winner this time?”
Liam chuckled. This was the part where a clueless man would eagerly accept, then get fleeced for all his money. He hadn’t had this much fun since he’d arrived in Providence Falls. As tempting as it would be to swindle Magnus out of a hundred dollars, Liam wasn’t sure he’d actually win. Magnus was the kind of guy who always had a few tricks up his sleeve. He reminded Liam of his thieving friends back in Ireland. Liam suddenly felt a strange sense of camaraderie toward Magnus, and a sharp twinge of nostalgia for those times long gone.
“It was pure luck I won,” Liam announced, slapping Magnus on the back. “I don’t want to tempt fate.”
“Come on, man,” Magnus cajoled. “Live on the edge.”
Been there, done that, already paying the price. “Some other time.”
Magnus seemed disappointed for a split second, then let it go as a tall, curvy brunette breezed by on a cloud of cotton candy perfume.
She peeked over her shoulder at Magnus, gave a haughty toss of her hair and kept walking.
“Ah, Lola,” he murmured with appreciation. “I think she’s still mad at me for standing her up the other night.”
“That’s too bad,” Liam said, watching her go. The woman’s spiked red heels could double as lethal weapons in a street fight, but the deliberate sway of her hips suggested more enjoyable activities.
“Nah. I’ll just buy her a drink, tell her what she wants to hear and she’ll get over herself.” Magnus gave Liam a knowing smile. “It’s all how you play the game, right, man?”
“Not everything’s a game,” Finn said in irritation. He’d been so quiet throughout the match that Liam had almost forgotten he was there. Not surprising. If only Liam could forget the man forever. Cora deserved so much better.
Magnus narrowed his eyes and stared down his nose at Finn. “All of life’s a game. Anyone who says otherwise is just no good at playing.” With a nod to Liam, Magnus followed the woman into the crowd.
Finn looked pissed. What had Magnus done to get on Finn’s bad side? Liam didn’t even know Finn had a bad side. Mostly, he just made calf eyes at Cora, smiled too much and bent over backward to do any little thing for her. He was a complete pushover. Magnus must’ve somehow pushed him all the way over.
Ever one to poke a hornet’s nest, Liam leaned against the bar and said brightly, “Well, Magnus seems like a great guy. How long have you two been friends?”
“We’re just business associates,” Finn corrected. His jaw was set, and his mouth was pressed into a hard line. “We work at the same firm, but we don’t work the same cases. Not unless there are special circumstances.”
Liam watched Magnus across the bar as he sweet-talked the brunette. She’d gone from giving Magnus the cold shoulder to giving him a warm one. She was now pressed into his side, toying with the zipper on his leather jacket as he whispered in her ear. Impressive. The man worked fast. Maybe Finn was just jealous because Magnus knew how to have fun. He seemed like the type of man who took what he wanted from life, consequences be damned. An admirable trait, to be sure. He reminded Liam of... Well, himself.
Later that evening Liam discovered a new form of modern-day torture called karaoke. Cora and Suzette were flipping through a songbook while someone in the corner of the bar wailed into a microphone about a devil in a blue dress, or some such nonsense. Sweet Christ, at least in the past when a drunkard sang at the top of his lungs, there were no machines to amplify the noise. The singer’s voice sounded like two cats fighting in a burlap sack, but even that was preferable to talking to Finn, so Liam couldn’t complain too much.
Finishing the last of his beer, Liam noticed Magnus leaving arm in arm with the brunette and another woman who appeared to be her friend. Magnus gave Liam a cocky wink on his way out the door. All how you play the game, indeed.
Liam raised his glass to Magnus, then turned back to Cora, who was now in a playful argument with Suzette over their song choices.
“Let’s let Liam decide.” Cora pushed the book toward him. “Which one?”
He looked over the list of titles, choosing the first one that resonated. “‘Never Gonna Give You Up.’”
Suzette groaned and dragged the book back. “That’s it. Your roommate is officially trashed, Cora. It’s the only explanation for such a lapse in judgment.”
Cora grinned at Liam, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter. Her smile was as bright and carefree as the Cora he remembered from another lifetime ago. His Cora. The girl who’d welcomed him with honest kindness the night he’d climbed into her bedroom window to rob her house. She’d been open and inquisitive and genuinely happy to meet him, and she’d never looked at him like the filthy, thieving peasant he was. Cora McLeod, daughter of the village squire, had made Liam believe he could someday be worthy of a woman like her.
His heart beat with that familiar sense of desperate, reckless hope. The kind of hope that promised impossible things. He remembered it so clearly, he could practically taste it like ambrosia on his tongue, their sweet dream of a future together, in spite of all the odds stacked against them. But according to the angels, he’d messed up Cora’s destiny by crawling through her window that night so long ago. Getting her to fall in love with Finn, now, was the only way he could save himself from eternal damnation.
And yet... He glanced at Cora, warm and beautiful as sunlight, with her golden head tipped back, laughing at something her friend said. What if Magnus was right, and it was all how you played the game?
Liam’s mind began to spin with dangerous possibilities. Maybe he just needed to find a way to bend the rules.
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