Fallen Angels 05 - Possession (44 page)

When Jim got home, it was about two seconds after five p.m. Thanks to Angel Airlines, he didn’t have to worry about a commute—and good thing. He was coming back and checking in only long enough to make sure that Sissy and Ad were hanging out okay. Then he had to go back to tailing Duke Phillips.

Opening the front door—

“What the …” Inhaling again, he nearly groaned. Onions sautéing with spices. Something meat, too. And fresh bread?

As he shut himself in, he faltered again. Talk about a woman’s touch … even though the light was fading in the sky, everything was so much brighter inside the house, the lamps shining as if the bulbs and silk shades had all been cleaned. The rugs were more colorful, too, like someone had vacuumed everywhere—and the floors. Jesus Christ, the floors were gleaming.

Glancing up the stairs, he was astounded to find that the carpet runner wasn’t actually brown … it was a deep garnet red. And the carved balustrade was glowing from having been polished. And the walls? The paper that had been gradually peeling free and dropping down was reaffixed, the pattern itself resurrected from aged obscurity, the subtle vines and blooms showing once again.

Jim headed back to the kitchen, and was gob smacked to find Adrian in an apron, sitting at the kitchen table, cutting green beans with a crystal dagger like he was performing heart surgery.

“Like this?” the angel was saying intently.

Sissy pivoted away from a steaming pot. “Perfect. Yeah, just nip the ends.”

Ad nodded and went back to work.

The fact that neither of them noticed him was a little galling. But he couldn’t really be jealous of Adrian—who, at last glance, had only grudgingly accepted her presence. Right?

Then again, six hours later, how times had changed. They were best frickin’ buddies, evidently.

Jim cleared his throat. “Smells good.”

Sissy jumped enough to drop her spoon, but Adrian just glanced up, and then returned to his job.

“You want to eat with us?” she said as she smoothed her hair. “We’re going to be ready in thirty minutes?”

He could wait that long. “Yeah. Please.”

Feeling like he was back in his mama’s house, he went to the sink and washed his hands. Hey, check it, he could actually see out the window into the backyard for the first time. And as he rinsed off, he noticed that the stainless-steel sink was shiny as new. So were the pans that were sitting in a pile in the rack.

Jim took his time drying things on a clean dishrag, lingering just behind Sissy. Her hair had been pulled back into a messy knot, held in place by a big barrette. At her nape, tiny curls had formed, and he had an almost irresistible urge to touch them, wrap them around his finger … and the impulses didn’t stop there. He wanted to wrap his height around her from behind and plant a lingering kiss on the side of her throat.

Wheeling away, he took a seat across from Ad and watched the guy make a pile of cut green beans in a white enameled pot full of water.

“So how did today go?” Ad asked.

“Stayed tight with the guy. There’s bad juju all over him—frankly, it’s a hot mess. I just wanted to come home and see…”

Adrian finished things for him. “Me, of course. And I’m really touched—you’re so awesome like that. You bring me chocolates? Flowers?”

Just as Jim was about to fuck-off the guy, the other angel said softly, “I got her. You don’t have to worry.”

Jim cocked a brow. But, man, that did decrease his stress. It was one thing asking his roommate to play bodyguard, another to have him volunteer for it.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Dinner was on about a half an hour later, just as promised, and Jim wished the meal had been hours late. As Sissy worked in the kitchen, his eyes were glued to her, watching her move around, or tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, or pull up the loose sweats she was wearing over and over again.

He’d never spent much time with women, and he certainly wasn’t into that flighty, giggly, everything-pink bullshit that some of them seemed determined to define themselves by. Still, he was very certain that few of the fairer sex pulled together a meal for two hungry men with the confidence and poise and results that Sissy did—and he found himself loving that about her.

Maybe there was a point to that man/stomach connection.

When she finally sat down, she put her hands out, palms up.

“Prayer,” she ordered as both he and Adrian stared at her in confusion.

“Ah…”

“Er…”

“Prayer.” She rapped her knuckles on the table.

Both he and Adrian complied, the three of them forming a triangle, the links shockingly strong.

She bowed her head and talked so fast that he couldn’t understand the words. Didn’t matter, though. In the midst of the war, and the deaths, and the sense that time was running out … an easing came over Jim, relaxing his breathing and his shoulders, reminding him of days long past—the good ones, the ones he hadn’t thought of in so many years.

The ones that he was shocked to find were still with him.

And what do you know—the beef stew?

Delicious.

“Are you kidding me? I thought this one was going to last.”

As Duke stepped back from his door and let Rolly in, he should have known better, but come on—one day? That was all the woman had lasted with the guy?

Then again…

Rolly shrugged as he threw his backpack down. “Dude, I swear, I thought she was something special.” He went over to the refrigerator and opened things up. “Oh, man, there’s nothing to eat.”

“And this is a surprise?”

“You never have food in here.”

“Like I always tell you, you want a cook and turndown service, go to your mother’s.”

“No way, she’s too demanding.”

Well, maybe there was still hope, Duke thought as he shut the front door and tightened the bath towel that was around his waist. Maybe the woman would rethink things.

Rolly’s ass hit the sofa cushions and he sighed like the two parties had been separated for a year. “You know, you could get cable out here.”

“And encourage you to stay longer?”

“You loooooooove me,” the guy called out as Duke went into the bedroom.

“Not really.”

Duke went over to his closet and opened the louvered doors. Not much in there. But it wasn’t like he had any occasions to wear suits.

In the end, he pulled on his newest pair of jeans, a black muscle shirt, and his black leather jacket—in other words, his work uniform.

Pausing in front of the mirror over the simple pine bureau in the corner, he met his own eyes and thought of his newest buddy at work.

The pair of them had gone down by the river and done their thing, and then hit two of the six parks they had to go through. Duke had the unmistakable impression that the quiet bastard was waiting him out, watching, biding time.

Not his problem.

Returning to the main space of the house, he loomed over the sofa, where Rolly had stretched out and was snoring already.

Fuck it. He was going to focus on the positive of having the guy back—it was like a free ADT system. Because if anyone broke in here, Rolly would call.

Surely the idiot would call.

Duke shut things up tight as he left, and while he walked over to his ride, he shook his head at the beater Rolly had been driving around since they’d been at Union. The stoner had gotten it new—from his very proud parents back in the days when they’d thought he’d amount to something.

Those times had passed. The thing was going on a wing and a prayer, the paint on the hood faded, the bumpers uneven from various impacts, one wheel sporting a mismatched rim because there hadn’t been money to get the proper replacement. And yet Rolly was happy enough with it.

Always would be.

Which was sad, and kind of nice, too.

Getting behind the wheel of his truck, Duke refused to let himself think too much about where he was going and why. The emotions were too complex for him to process—and maybe he didn’t like the directions they were pulling him in.

He had started this thing with Cait to get in the way of that singer with the fake-ass, sensitive, Mr. Nice Guy act.

Now, though, that goal seemed very secondary.

And that was terrifying. The woman was supposed to be a lay, nothing more. That was not how things were trending, though—and he had no clue how to handle it all.

Life had already taught him that love was a dangerous fallacy, and women, as with all people, were incredibly fickle. Like he needed to relearn all that?

Yet it was with a singular fixation that he drove into Caldwell, peeling off the Northway when he got to a residential area full of small houses and little neighborhood shops. The address Cait had given him was not one he was familiar with, but then, this was where young families lived—and he’d never been a part of one of those.

Counting the numbers down, he pulled over in front of a white clapboard with clipped bushes, a tended-to lawn and a detached garage out in back. Her SUV, the Lexus, was parked off to the side.

For some reason, he couldn’t get out, and he passed the time staring at her house. There were two windows upstairs, one of which had a light on in it. Downstairs, there was a broad bay to balance the offset front door, and plenty of illumination, including a glowing fixture right over the entrance.

Kind of like a postcard, and yeah, he could have called this. Cait struck him as the sort of person who’d have a tidy home.

He nearly kept going.

Gripping the steering wheel, he thought … this was wrong. Not his larger purpose, no. But this part of it, the part with her.

Cursing, he glared out at the road ahead of him. “Goddamn it.”

Man, this inner conflict bullshit was
not
part of the plan. This hesitation, this sense that he was doing a nasty on the way to getting back at G.B. should
not
be his problem.

Collateral damage happened. And she was an adult, capable of making her own decisions—and it wasn’t like he’d coerced her into the sex. Far from it.

“Shit.”

Forcing his hand forward, he turned off the engine and got out because he didn’t know what else to do with himself. The instant he faced the house, however, a surge went through him and clarified things, reminding him that there was another dimension in play in all this.

God, the sex.

He hadn’t expected it to get so out of control. When he’d seen her behind that café, he’d felt the attraction—then at the club, he’d followed through on it. But he’d assumed those hard-core orgasms had been because of the satisfaction to be had in taking something G.B. wanted. At the boathouse last night, however, he’d begun to think there was more to it than that.

And now, as he walked up and pushed the doorbell, he was sure of it.

He wanted to see her naked this time; take her on something soft like a bed so he didn’t have to worry about bruising her; do her from behind and then with her straddling him.

The extent to which he needed the sex was a warning—

The door opened—and oh, shit, there she was. And for a split second, the impact of her in that loose navy blue dress flushed his brain, his senses overriding his thought processes entirely.

“Hi,” she said roughly.

As her hand went up and fiddled with the collar, she seemed off.

Frowning, he looked behind her, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the house. Maybe that was the problem?

“You okay with this?” he asked. “We can go somewhere public if you’d rather.”

After all, she’d only met him a matter of days ago—

“No. I want you here. As long as you … you know, you’re all right with it?”

In lieu of an answer, he stepped forward, took hold of her, and kissed the breath out of her. He just wanted to have her against him, and only intended for a quick reconnect—but of course, once he got his hands on her, that went right out the window. With her breasts against his chest, and her mouth under his, his body got hungry.

Starved, was more like it.

Fucking hell, her lips were so soft against his, and the way she yielded to him, her spine arching into him, made him want to lay her out right on the floor and—

Duke pulled away and shut the door so they didn’t give her neighbors a show. And as he paused to stare down at her, the fact that she was breathing hard and looking up at him as if he were already naked in her eyes?

Just where he wanted her.

“Hi,” he drawled, brushing back some of her blond hair. “Miss me?”

The smile on her face made his sternum ache. “Yes, I did.”

“I smell dinner?”

“Lasagna. Just homemade—I didn’t know whether you would …” As she let that fade, she put her hand on his face, shaking her head. “God, every time I see you…”

“What.”

“I just forget what you look like. Until you’re in front of me.”

“Good or bad.”

For a moment, her expression changed as if she were taken somewhere else in her head. But then she shook things and seemed to refocus. “Good, very good.”

Duke did some touching of his own, running his fingertips down her neck. “Do you think we’ll make it through dinner this time?”