The Broken Angel (6 page)

“I think you need some sugar in your system, stat.” He looked down at her with a tenderness that melted Martina’s knees and made standing up rather difficult and she wondered when he had become so tall.

“I think you’re right. What about that breakfast you promised me?” She averted his gaze only to look back at the bed and blush. Without warning, her treacherous imagination played a vivid image of Samuel kissing her while dragging her down on him. “What do you need a bed this big for?” The moment the question was out of her mouth, she would have done anything to sink under the floor and disappear. “I’m sorry. It’s so completely inappropriate of me, and I shouldn’t even be here in the first place—”

“It’s okay.” Samuel shrugged and gave her a smile. “I move a lot when I sleep and I’m always worried I’ll fall out of the bed.”

“Really?” She followed him outside.

He led her back to the kitchen. “Yes. I fell once and I don’t want to fall ever again.” With a flourish of his hand, he showed her the feast on the counter. “I didn’t know what you normally have for breakfast.” He passed his hand over the stubble on his jaw, while he gestured with the other at the trays. “I should’ve asked.”

Martina’s stomach rumbled and she laughed. “You bought me some tramezzini. Thank you.”

He handed her one of the triangular white bread sandwiches piled on a small pyramid. “There wasn’t a lot to choose from. I hope you like the tomatoes and tuna kind.”

“Love them.” She took the soft sandwich from his hand and their fingers brushed. She felt a subtle current shoot through her. As she raised her eyes, she found his were riveted on her mouth, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She swayed and once again, he was ready to hold her.

“Let me fix some coffee for you. It might help.” He gently helped her to the couch in the living room, then walked back to the counter.

Martina wasn’t used to be fussed upon and found the experience strangely comforting. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, but she wiped them away before he could see them. Samuel brought her a plate filled with tramezzini and lay it on the white couch, then left her and went to the stove. She watched as he prepared espresso with a moka that resembled more a piece of Art Deco than a coffee maker. Then her eyes went to the kitchen back wall, all filled with transparent cabinets. The shelves were illuminated and showed a collection of fine China. For the majority, she could see tea sets, but there were also plates on display.

“You must be the most interesting guy I’ve ever met.”

His back straightened and he stilled his hands for a moment. “Thank you, but why?” He put back the coffee beans grinder and other utensils he had just used, but didn’t look at her.

“Well, take those porcelain tea sets you have over there and the pictures you have on the wall. And the rest of this place… I mean, you truly are something else.”

Samuel turned, a frown marring his expression. “I don’t understand.”

“You simply amaze me. That’s all.” She had blurted out the words and blushed at her admission. “For example, what’s with your obsession with delicate teapots?”

****

“I lived in Asia for a while and I acquired a taste for teas and Chinese and Japanese antiques, especially their finest wares.” Samuel shrugged. “You know how that happens, you buy a small piece, then another, and soon you become a collector.” He tinkered with the moka, unable to give a name to the feelings Martina evoked in him.

“You must have one interesting job.” She took a small bite from a sandwich.

“It keeps me occupied.” He put the moka on the stove and turned it on low, then moved to the counter to prepare a plate for himself.

Seemingly lost in thought, Martina finished eating the first sandwich. She brought a second to her mouth before she tilted her head and raised one eyebrow. “Wait… Yesterday, were you in that alley for work?”

Samuel almost sputtered the big chunk of croissant he had just bitten.

“I mean, you said you are in law enforcement, and with this kind of dig, you could very well be a James Bond in disguise.” She lowered her plate to her lap. “Are you?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, finally decided to be honest. “I really can’t say.”

“Of course you would say that.” She laughed.

The hissing moka saved Samuel from having to come up with a witty retort. He poured the black espresso in two small glass cups he had bought in Venice, then grabbed a stainless steel tray from one of the drawers under the counter, and brought the coffee to Martina along with sugar cubes and a honey croissant.

“So, that’s also why you’re so fit. I imagine you must exercise regularly to maintain your job, right?”

He shrugged and lowered himself to the big armchair by the couch. “I won’t say.” He had moved the chair slightly closer to her. Close enough that if he leaned forward, he could reach for her. He didn’t, but he liked the idea he could. Ironically, he was used to touching her without any concern of inappropriateness during their trainings, but now even brushing her knees seemed too intimate.

“Hmmm.” She made a face. “And what’s up with your cane? Suddenly you don’t need it anymore?”

Samuel inwardly groaned, but was pleased she had noticed. “It was a miracle.”

“A miracle, ah?”

He nodded, finding harder and harder not to start laughing. “Divine intervention.”

“No, seriously. Yesterday, you couldn’t walk without it. Now, you can almost run?” She gave him a tilt of her head and a raised eyebrow. The expression, one he had seen several times on her face when they fought each other, meant she dared him to prove her wrong. At the gym, it was also her way to tell him she wouldn’t spare his feelings. Although, he knew she never hit him as hard as she could, which it was funny since he too guarded his blows not to hurt her.

“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you the truth.” He raised his hands in the air in defeat, a wide grin on his face. “I didn’t need it that much. I used it more to give me moral support than anything else. Like a blankie for a child. As you’ve just pointed out, I can manage just fine without it.”

She seemed to think about his words for a moment, then nodded. “That explains it.”

“That explains what?”

She pointed at his legs. “I’ve wondered more than once how could you fight in the ring without it and then apparently needed it to walk.”

“I like to deceive the enemy.” Samuel made a mental note to be more careful.

“Have you always lived in Rome?” She regarded him with one of her soul-searching stares.

Her question brought him back to the first time he had seen the Eternal City. The Roman Empire was at its end, but Rome was like no other city he had ever encountered in his pilgrimage around Earth.

He had traveled six months straight, never stopping. Coming from the Far East, passing through Meshech, Tubal, and Hellas, he had finally reached a large expanse of sea, and mesmerized by the natural beauty surrounding the lands bordering those warm, fruitful waters, he had followed its natural contour and climbed all the way up north. Then he had ventured back down, passing through the mosquito-infested Venitian Lagoons, the veteran soldiers’ settlement of Fluentia, and finally leaving behind the fertile valley of the Arno and following the Via Cassia to its end, he had found Rome.
Caput Mundi.
The capitol of the world. He wept before such beauty. White marbles and structures the likes of which he had never seen lay before his eyes. Ample roads were framed by votive altars and pine trees dotted the cobblestone pavements with pinecones, the smell of their crushed hard shells under the chariots’ wheels the essence of Rome. He basked in the glory of such magnificence and his heart rejoiced for the first time since falling.

“No. I moved from place to place before settling here and I also traveled a lot for my job.”

She then smiled a mischievous smile, her hands moving in circular motions. “How did you end up with such a mysterious job?”

“Despite my… disability, I still have the skills required for it.” Samuel wanted to confide in Martina, afraid that he would never have another chance to talk to her like that—in private, outside of the gym where they were only sparring partners. But by the way she acted around him, unguarded and relaxed, he was aware their budding friendship was being built upon a lie. She felt safe around him, that much he had understood before meeting her ex-husband, but only after seeing what a poor excuse for a mortal he was he had fully realized why she seemed to trust him so easily. To her, Samuel wouldn’t represent a threat. Simply put, she probably didn’t even think of him as a man. He crossed his legs at the ankles and hugged himself. “Plus, I needed to do something with my time. I spent several years in solitude and I’d had enough of it. I came back to Rome and looked for any job that could be a good fit for me. I found one position and it seemed I was the right man for it.”

She cleaned the croissant’s crumbles from her lips with the napkin. “Why would you spend time alone? At the gym, you’re always surrounded by friends. I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong, but you don’t seem the kind of person who would forgo company.”

He was surprised she had an opinion about the kind of person he was. If asked to describe himself, Samuel wouldn’t know what to say beyond the obvious of his mangled physical appearance. He couldn’t see past his mutilation. “I wasn’t used to having people around before the accident, and after, I needed time to heal. It took me a while.”

She kicked her shoes to the floor and brought her legs up on the couch. “I’m sorry. Of course I’m not saying it’s the same, I would never dare suggest your accident, whatever happened to you, is similar to a divorce, but I can relate to the taking time part.”

“Only your divorce has left you crippled inside, hasn’t it?” Samuel realized a moment too late he had voiced his thought out loud.

Martina paled, but gave him a small smile. “And here I thought I was doing such great job at hiding it.”

“You do.” He leaned forward and reached for her hand. When she didn’t move it away, he gave it a squeeze. “You do.”

After that exchange, they finished their breakfast sitting in amiable silence, both of them looking outside the window at the Coliseum. Somewhere near, church bells gave the hour.

Martina looked at her watch and gasped. “I should call work and say I’m late.”

He was taken aback by her statement and stood too fast, but remembered at the very last moment to look less stable on his legs and leaned over the back of the couch to support himself. “You just spent a whole night at the hospital for a concussion. I think you should take the day off. As a matter of fact, I think you should take several days off.”

“Don’t be silly.” She took his plate and hers and walked to the sink. “I didn’t need to spend the night at the hospital. The doctor simply bought me some time to get rid of my ex.”

He watched as she discarded the crumbles from the plates, then rinsed them, her hands slightly shaking. “You haven’t slept.”

“I feel fine. I’ll sleep tonight.” She dried her hands on the towel he kept by the sink.

“I really don’t think is a good idea to—” He realized he was acting as if he had enough familiarity with her to express his worries.

She regarded him with a puzzled look. “I appreciate your concern, but there’s a case I’m working on, and the judge and the other lawyer won’t wait for me to take a nap.”

Samuel bit back what he wanted to say and walked to the coffee table by the entry where he usually threw all of his keys. “At least let me drive you to your office.”

An hour later, he had dropped her off before a modern building in Corso Francia. “Call me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up.” She had seemed pleased, and he had left feeling lighter.

The sentiment didn’t last long. As soon as he rounded the corner and merged into the traffic, Barnes called him.

“Are you planning on coming to the office today?”

From the way his boss had spoken, Samuel knew another long day awaited him. Barnes’s northern accent become more pronounced when he was under pressure. “I’m on my way, but if you remember, I was there until the wee hours of the morning.”

“Don’t make me wait. We have guests.” Barnes had whispered the last sentence.

Twenty minutes later, he knocked at his boss’s door already knowing who would be waiting for him. “Quintilius.” He nodded at the massive visitor filling Barnes’s reinforced chair.

The werewolf looked over his shoulder. “Angel.”

Samuel tried to ignore the subtle hint of sarcasm packed into that single word that had once defined him, but that was now a joke.

“Quintilius is here in lieu of the shifter community and he has a few questions to ask.” Barnes looked like he needed a shower and one more cup of espresso. Behind his desk, several empty paper cups smeared with dark brown stains attested he had never left his office.

Before the third degree started again, Samuel raised one hand to say what needed to be said first. “I’m sorry for your loss.” The boy had been an idiot, but life was holy to him, and he would have wanted him alive.

Quintilius turned on his chair to better look at him. “Thank you.”

Samuel grabbed one of the chairs resting by the wall and angled it toward the werewolf. Barnes was there only to witness the conversation. Samuel knew his boss wouldn’t be able to put a word in edgewise once the werewolf started his inquisition.

“I’m asking for your removal.” Quintilius had a cup before him, and its contents sloshed as he rearranged his body. From the way his free hand was grabbing the armchair, it was evident he was trying to rein in his legendary temper.

Samuel inwardly groaned. “I understand.”

“And you don’t have anything to say about it?” Quintilius looked first at Samuel, then at Barnes, finally back at him. His eyes were round and gleamed with rage.

Samuel stretched his legs before him. “I have a lot to say about it, but you’re grieving and you want my head.” He inwardly swore at his choice of words, while the werewolf stood so fast his chair fell backward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barnes grow paler, and his hands fumbled on the table as if considering doing something about the mess they were in. Samuel rose from the chair and slightly bowed to the werewolf. “I apologize for speaking out of turn. Ask me anything and I’ll answer with the truth.” He could see the werewolf’s hair rising on his head as he closed the gap between them, ready to hit him. Samuel didn’t move a muscle.