Brian shook his head. “I just offered Roman the wall. He and God did the rest.”
Tuck Martin gave Roman a wry look. “Do you agree with that statement? You think God had something to do with it?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Are you a Christian?”
Roman gave him a sardonic stare. “Don’t I look like one?”
Brian laughed. “A young disciple.”
“How did that come about?” Tuck looked at Brian for an answer.
Brian tilted his head toward Roman. “Ask him what happened in Santa Clarita.”
When Roman didn’t speak up, Brian rose. “I’m going to get another cup of coffee. Need anything, gentlemen?” When neither answered, he strolled away. Roman knew what Brian wanted him to do, and he knew what response he’d get.
“I had a heart attack, died on the sidewalk, and went to hell. Jesus got me out.”
Tuck Martin laughed. “Yeah. Right.” He grew serious again. “Great joke, but now, I’d like to know what really happened.”
Roman just looked at him.
Martin frowned and searched Roman’s face. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”
“Never been more serious in my life.” Roman lifted his coffee, thinking he’d said more than enough, until he felt the nudge to go on. “I didn’t believe in God. Strike that. Maybe it’s closer to the truth to say I hated Him. I’d just had a heated conversation with a Christian. We’d called a truce and pulled in to have lunch. I dropped dead on the sidewalk.” He shuddered. “Looking back, the timing seems providential.”
Martin’s mouth twisted in a cynical half smile as he leaned back. “Tell me what it was like in hell.”
Roman measured Tuck Martin’s expression. “Someday you’ll see it for yourself.”
“Is that a polite way of telling me to go to hell?”
“Reject Jesus, and that’s where you’ll end up.”
“You’d allow me to put that in my story.”
“Can’t stop you now, can I?”
Brian came back as Tuck Martin turned off his recorder and dropped it in his backpack. “Do you know what he just told me?”
“I hope so.” He looked at Roman with approval. “Your NDE.”
Roman shrugged. “He doesn’t believe me.”
“It was a good thing Grace was with him in Santa Clarita, or he’d be dead. She knew CPR.”
“Grace?” Tuck Martin’s interest returned. “Talia Reisner said you had a personal assistant who lived and traveled with you.”
Roman felt a rush of protective anger. “Grace didn’t live with me. She had her own place.” He wasn’t about to tell this nosy reporter she lived next door in a cottage he owned. “She’s as straitlaced as they come. And if you insinuate anything else in your article, I’ll rip your head off.”
Martin drew back.
“Sorry, Mr. Martin.” Brian chuckled. “Roman is a new Christian.”
Martin held up his hands. “I wasn’t meaning to insinuate anything. Ms. Reisner spoke very highly of Ms. Moore. She said you needed a keeper, and Grace was organized, efficient, and a delight to know.”
Roman glared at him. He knew what the next question would be.
“I’d like to talk with her.”
“I’ll bet you would,” Roman growled, wishing again he’d never agreed to this interview.
Brian glanced at Roman and then back at Tuck Martin. “Grace moved out of the area.”
Roman watched Tuck Martin closely and saw reporter instinct rising up like sludge in a clogged drain. When he looked at him, Roman stared back, letting the anger show. Ask about Grace again, and you are going to regret it.
Martin’s brows flicked up. Face relaxed, expression enigmatic, he leaned back and settled in. “There are plenty of bestselling books out there about near-death experiences in heaven. A couple of movies, too. I don’t remember any about hell.”
Roman returned Martin’s cynical smile with one of his own. “It’s not an experience I want to remember. Why would I want to write about it?”
“You could hire someone.”
“Like you?” Roman snorted. “You don’t believe me.”
“I might if you talked about it a little more.”
Brian sat quiet, clearly observing them.
Martin kept pushing. “You should warn people, don’t you think? Isn’t it your Christian duty?”
Roman gritted his teeth to keep from telling Martin where he could go and what he could do with himself once he got there.