“He knows,” I interrupted, quickly.

Paul quit brushing himself and sent me a quizzical look. “He knows?” he echoed. “As in… knows knows?”

“He knows,” I repeated grimly.

“Well,” Paul said, looking intrigued. “What brought about that little change of heart? I thought—”

“That was before,” I said quickly.

“Before what?” Paul found a piece of straw in his hair and pulled it out.

“Before I saw him,” I said softly, not looking at either of them.

Paul didn’t say anything—which for him was unusual. Jesse, of course, didn’t know what we were talking about. He was still mad at Paul for tying me up.

“I don’t know if it’s considered normal in the time you come from to leave women bound and gagged,” Jesse said severely. “But in this day and age, allow me to assure you that such behavior would generally land a gentleman in jail.”

Jesse said the word gentleman like it was the last thing he actually thought Paul was.

Paul just looked at him. “You know,” he said. “I think I like your ghost better.”

I felt it wise to change the subject. “He’s here,” I said to Paul. “Felix Diego, I mean.”

“I know,” Paul said. “I followed him back here.”

“I thought you were going to get rid of him!”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t just walk up to him and suck out his soul in front of everyone.”

“Why not?”

“Because I would’ve gotten shot, that’s why not.”

“But you could just have shifted back to the future—”

“Uh, and left you tied up in Mrs. O’Neil’s hayloft? I don’t think so. I’d have had to come back and rescue you.” His gaze shifted toward Jesse’s. “I didn’t know, of course, that Prince Charming here had come along and done it for me.”

“So what are we going to do?” I asked. Paul looked at Jesse.

“Well,” he said. “What does Wonderboy want to do?”

“Wonderboy?” Jesse glared menacingly in Paul’s direction. “Is this person a friend of mine in the future?” he asked me.

“No,” I said to Jesse. To Paul I said, “I tried to get him to leave, but he won’t go.”

Paul looked at Jesse. “Buddy,” he said. “I’m not telling you this because I like you. Believe me. But if you stay here, you’re gonna get iced. Simple as that. That Diego guy? He means business.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” Jesse said as if we were morons for not believing him.

“See what I mean?” I said, to Paul.

“Great.” Paul sat down on a hay bale, looking pained. “This is just great. So when Diego comes to kill him, he can take a crack at you and me, too.”

I opened my mouth to insist this wouldn’t happen, but Jesse interrupted.

“If you think I would leave you alone with her again,” he said, his gaze never wavering from Paul’s face, “you don’t know me at all in this future you speak of.”

“Don’t worry,” Paul said, holding up a hand wearily. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, Jesse. Well, that’s it then.” Paul leaned back in the hay, making himself more comfortable. “We wait. And if he comes back, thinking you’ve fallen asleep and he can do the job out here, we take him.”

“No.” Jesse’s jaw was set. He didn’t raise his voice. Not at all. His tone was hard as steel, however. “I will take him.”

“Uh, no offense,” Paul said, “but Suze and I, we came here especially just to—”

“I said I’ll do it,” Jesse said in that same ice-cold voice— the one I had come to recognize as the voice Jesse used only when he was truly angry about something. “I’m the one he’s come to kill. I am the one who will stop him.”

Paul and I exchanged glances. Then Paul sighed, lifted the horse blanket, and stretched out across the hay in a dark corner of the loft.

“Fine,” he said. “Wake me when it’s time to shift home.”

And to my utter disbelief, he closed his eyes and seemed to doze off.

I glanced at Jesse and saw that he was eyeing Paul with distaste. When he noticed the direction of my gaze, he asked, his tone less hard than before, “You two are friends in the place you come from?”

“Uh,” I said. “Not really. More like… colleagues. We both have the same… gift, I guess you’d call it.”

“For traveling through time,” Jesse said.

“Yes,” I said. “And… other things.”

“And when I kill Diego”—I noticed he said when and not if—“you’ll go back where you came from?”

“Yes,” I said, trying not to think about how incredibly hard that moment was going to be.

“And you want to help me,” Jesse said, just as quietly as I’d spoken to him, “because… ?”

I realized I hadn’t actually answered his question the first time he’d asked it. In the soft glow of the lamp—he’d turned the flame down to make sure Diego really did think he was sleeping, so he could take him unawares—Jesse had never looked as handsome as he did then. Because, of course, he’d never been alive any other time I’d seen him. His brown eyes looked soft, the lashes around them dark as the shadows all through the loft. His lips—those strong, soft lips that hadn’t kissed mine nearly as often as I’d have liked and, in all likelihood, never would again—looked hypnotically appealing. I had to tear my gaze from them and keep it instead on a threadbare spot on the knee of my jeans.

“Because it’s what I do,” I said, only something was happening in my throat, making the words come out more huskily than I’d intended them to.

I coughed.

“And you do this—” Jesse seemed to mean travel back through time to warn potential murder victims of their impending doom. “—for all who die before their time?”

“Uh, not exactly,” I said. “Yours is kind of… a special case.”

“And are all girls from your time,” Jesse went on thoughtfully, apparently not noticing my discomfort or my fascination with his mouth, “like you?”