Slipping the Past by D.L. Jackson

touched the pulse on her neck. A strong beat, indicating her heart hadn’t suffered from the pull. She’d wake exhausted but sound. He ran his fingers along her body, memorizing every scar, curve, and dip. He traced the upside-down, heart-shaped birthmark over her breast. A curse, but something about it touched him deeply. It reached to the roots of his soul, as if it wasn’t what it appeared.
    She’d recover this time, but next time…. There could never be a next time. They couldn’t do this again. He could, unintentionally, steal her soul. It seemed around her he’d little control.
    He slipped his coat on her, fastened it down the front, and carried her down the hall, exiting through the front entrance. Hospital staff and patients stopped to stare, but not a one questioned him or tried to stop him. They didn’t dare. It was a good thing. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with questions.
    He shouldn’t feel guilty about what happened, but he did. It was his job to imprison her soul. The sex should be a bonus for a job the department required, nothing more.
    Her brother would be looking for her. How could he explain? Officers of the law didn’t take advantage of the fugitives in their custody. But he had. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, or his cock in his pants. He wouldn’t be the first Enforcer to do it, but he’d always held himself to higher standards.
    Until now.
    He’d put her in the room she’d rented and leave her money to cover any expenses. He’d protect her from the others and keep her safe while he figured out how to prove her innocence and get himself out of the situation. He’d combed through every archive in the DSLE database and had gone through the chip a hundred times. He’d yet to find what he needed.
    Only one thing stood out. For the last eight years, women around the city had been disappearing. No, they didn’t just disappear. It was like they’d never existed. No bodies, no souls, and all of them were redheads. Even Diego ran into concrete walls. He’d taken the chip home to follow a couple other threads that tugged at him and had promised to call Gabriel if he found anything. Doesn’t look good , he’d said.
    Ian meticulously documented every past-life crime, down to a microscopic detail. Clean. Clear. By all appearances, his report looked perfect, except Diego said he’d made a mistake. It was too clean, too perfect, and that was enough reason for him to dig deeper.
    Gabriel followed the lead on the disappearance and came up with zilch. He thought perhaps if he followed Jocelyn, he’d catch the stalker at work, but Ian wasn’t about to toss the evidence at him. The man knew how to mask his deeds.
    Could he keep Jocelyn safe from Ian and prove her innocence? Who’d keep her safe from him? He was bound to the week as much as she. If he couldn’t prove it and she couldn’t find the evidence, he’d lose her—this time forever, when they were both imprisoned. She’d spoken the truth. They’d been together before. Many times. He’d felt the bond in the closet, glimpsed a piece of the past in her energy as she’d slipped away. Frantic at her loss, he’d pulled her back. He’d never been so afraid.
    No matter how many lifetimes they’d been together, this would be the final time. No reincarnation, no more chances. Their souls would be prisoners for eternity, never to see each other again. That would be worse than any death. That would be hell.
    It couldn’t happen.
    His father had granted the reprieve with the stipulation that if she couldn’t prove one-hundred percent innocence in all past crimes, Gabriel would collect her soul and surrender his own.
    What past did they have that would make him sell his soul to save her? Only one thing came to mind. Love. He’d loved her. He loved her enough to come back again and again.
    Now, he stood outside the motel Nate had returned to after failing to find his sister in the hospital. Staring up at the lit window, he watched