His smile slowly grew, turning outright killer. “I’ll leave you my card, Miss Dante,” he said so softly, it was nearly a whisper. “And if you can think of anything… anything at all you would like to share with me,” he paused, letting his words sink in, “please give me a call. You can reach me any time.”
He moved, brushing past her to leave the laundry room and enter the hallway. His upper arm and torso slid momentarily against her shoulder, hard and unyielding and… tempting.
There were stars in her vision as she numbly turned to see him place a card on her kitchen bar before crossing the living room and opening her apartment’s front door. A very late afternoon sun kissed golden highlights in his hair, reminding her of her dream.
He stepped through the doorway, then paused and turned to glance back at her over his shoulder.
Again, just like he had in her dream.
“See you around, Miss Dante,” he said.
Rhiannon, she thought. My name is Rhiannon. Call me Rhiannon….
He smiled again, what could only have been a knowing smile, and stepped outside. “Lock the door behind me, Rhiannon.”
Then Detective Michael Salvatore closed the door, leaving her standing in her hallway, stunned, silent, terrified, and burning with an inexplicable desire for the cop who was probably going to destroy her.
Chapter Ten
Rhiannon sat in the corner of the coffee shop and kept a sharp eye on the customers who came and went through the rest of the store. She’d chosen a Starbucks inside a Target this time in order to be surrounded with a bit more movement and noise, hence giving herself both the cover and the privacy she needed.
The phone she was holding to her ear stopped ringing and her employer picked up.
“Mr. Verdigri, I believe we may have a problem,” she informed him right off the bat, choosing not to beat around the bush.
“I would agree, my dear, if what Alexander has told me is true.”
Of course. Alexander had already filled him in. She should have known. She would have known except that she wasn’t really herself at the moment. She was discombobulated. There were beautiful men messing with her head.
“The handsome detective seems to have taken an interest in you.”
That was putting it mildly. He’d all but told her that he knew she was guilty. And when he’d seen the marks on her jeans, she’d figured it was over.
“Come to think of it, Mr. Verdigri, I can’t understand why he hasn’t already arrested me.”
“Oh? Then he has proof?”
“Well….” Not in so many words. She hadn’t admitted anything, she had an alibi that she knew would check out, and her gun had been professionally cleaned – he wouldn’t get anything off it. Plus, even if he was telling the truth about the video footage he claimed to have, videos like that were usually fuzzy messes. All he had to go on was most likely a person dressed in black with red hair. She hoped.
“I guess not,” she finally admitted.
“You need to relax. He’s trying to rattle you. As long as you firmly believe that he can’t do so, he won’t be able to. Come by and see me. I want to talk to you about your next assignment.”
Rhiannon’s eyes widened. It took her a moment to process that last bit. “What?” she asked. He couldn’t be serious. She had already decided it wasn’t safe to return to Verdigri’s building any time soon, and even calling him at that moment felt dangerous. She’d purchased a new phone under a new name in order to do it. But, she was nervous. Something wasn’t right.
“As I said, we continue as we always have, Rhiannon,” he told her gently. “We make no changes whatsoever. I have a new job for you. You aren’t going to keep me waiting, are you?”
Rhiannon removed the phone from her ear and stared down at it as if it was something completely foreign to her. Then she put it back. “I believe that would be a very bad idea at this point,” she told her employer. “There are eyes on me. I am not going to point them in your direction.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. This was the first time Rhiannon had ever said “no” to her boss. She wondered how it tasted in his mouth. It was sour as hell in her own.
“I’m afraid it’s too late for you to argue the point, Miss Dante,” he finally said, using her last name and signaling a very definite change in mood. “Alex has already pulled the car up outside the store. And if you don’t come and see Mimi soon, she’s going to drive me insane. Get in the car.”
*****
When Rhiannon exited the building, it was to find a black Lincoln Town Car pulled up near the curb, and Alex standing near the back door, a shit-eating grin on his face. He shook his head in wonder as she approached him. “You really got under his skin this time.”
“What would you have done if I hadn’t come out?” she asked, truly curious.
He shrugged and looked around as if casually perusing the parking lot and store entrance. She knew he was actually taking every single detail in and processing it with utmost precision. “Some questions are better left unanswered, Miss Dante.”
“Our employer is crazy,” she muttered back while he opened the door.
“I cannot disagree,” he replied.
She ducked her head and got inside. Much to her chagrin, Alex got in after her and sat down across from her. With a raised brow, Rhiannon looked from him to the driver, who glanced at her in his rear-view mirror. He smiled.
“Good morning, Frank.”
“Miss Dante,” he greeted her congenially. “How are you enjoying your new place?”
Rhiannon looked from him to Alex, who shrugged as if to say, Don’t blame me for this. Our crazy boss is just worried about you.
“It’s nice,” she replied plainly. “I’ve got a laundry room and everything.”
Frank chuckled and pulled away from the curb. Twenty minutes later, he was parking in the garage beneath the Swallowtail Foundation building. Alex opened the door first, climbing out before she did. Ever the bodyguard.
Rhiannon exited the car and headed to the elevator that would take her to the atrium where she always met up with Verdigri. As if his soul purpose in life were to grate on her nerves, Alex accompanied her the whole way.
“You don’t have to stay with me.”
“Yes, I do.”
Rhiannon tried not to roll her eyes. “It’s not like I’m going to bolt.”
“Don’t I know it,” Alex said, trying to hide the beginnings of what could actually be the first smile she’d ever seen on him. “I almost wish you would.” He shook his head. “You aren’t nearly enough trouble for what I’m getting paid.”
The elevator dinged and Alex gestured, allowing her to go first. He finally left her alone when she entered the atrium and walked down the path that would take her to the gazebo where her employer waited.
She had made it past the cacao trees and was ducking under the bananas of another tree when Mimi jumped out in front of her on the path.
“Mimi!” Rhiannon placed her hand over her heart. She must have been lost in her head and a little on edge; Mimi had never managed to sneak up on her before, and most certainly had never managed to surprise her.
“Nope!” Mimi exclaimed deceptively. “Guess again!”
Rhiannon took a step back and frowned, blinking confusedly. “Not Mimi?”
“Nope! You get two more guesses,” Mimi said, her hazel eyes sparkling with secrets. She began to dance around Rhiannon, skipping with glee. Her bobbed, shoulder-length strawberry red hair bounced and shimmered as she moved, and the small smattering of freckles along her nose and cheeks began to disappear behind a rosy hue of excitement.
Mimi was wearing a white tee-shirt with bloused sleeves and a pair of denim overall shorts. Rhiannon could just make out the top of a picture of Wolverine over the front of the overalls. On her feet were black lace-up combat boots by Steve Madden. The boots were a constant. She rarely went anywhere without them on her feet. “And I’m timing you!” she exclaimed.
“Tick-tock, tick-tock!”
Rhiannon scratched her head, fully slipping into guessing mode. “Give me a hint?”
“I’m a purple fox when I’m not wearing a child’s socks!”
Rhiannon’s eyes got very wide. “Umm….”
“Oh come on!” Mimi scolded playfully. “Do you need me to give you another hint? Time’s almost up, you know.”
“Yes, another hint please.”
“Well, obviously I’m a Pokémon. And I like to cause mischief!” She said this last word with much vigor, drawing it out with a Cheshire cat grin. “Especially in my favorite form!”
“Which is….”
“No more hints,” Mimi said, and she stopped, put her hands on her hips and began tapping her booted foot impatiently.
Rhiannon nodded. A child’s socks. “Your favorite form is that of a child.”
“Yes! So who am I?”
Rhiannon smiled when it hit her. She was surprised it had taken her so long. She was out of practice and needed to hit that massive Pokédex she sometimes studied just so she could kick Mimi’s ass at cards and keep her entertained on Saturdays. “You’re Zorua.”
Mimi’s grin got even bigger. Which was impressive. And even looked a little painful. “Yes!” she exclaimed excitedly. She jumped up and down a few times in celebration, and then calmed down.
Rhiannon felt proud.
“Now, where have you been?” Mimi demanded, all pretense gone. “It’s been days since I last saw you!”
“Sorry,” Rhiannon said, meaning it. “You know how it goes sometimes.” Rhiannon shrugged helplessly. “It got crazy.”
Mimi’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully. As it did, a large, colorful butterfly landed on her shoulder. “That seems to happen to you a lot,” she said, ignoring the butterfly.
Rhiannon nibbled at the inside of her bottom lip. Mimi was a precocious one. “Tell me about it,” she simply agreed, hoping that would be the end of it.
Mimi unconsciously mimicked her behavior, chewing on her own lip for a moment before she finally said, “Okay,” and shrugged. “Mr. V is waiting for you. But you missed it – on Saturday I caught my Yveltal. I want to show him to you when you’re done.”
With that, the butterfly lifted off, and the nine-year-old was running in the opposite direction down the path, her boots clomping loudly as she disappeared. Rhiannon watched her go for a moment then continued the other way until she reached the gazebo at the center of the massive, jungle-like atrium.
Verdigri was waiting for her, slowly sipping from a tall glass of iced lemonade. As she approached, he stood, ever the gentleman.
Rhiannon steeled herself and took the seat across from him. They sat together. He looked up and smiled gently. “Mimi found you, I presume?”
She nodded. “Or, rather, Zorua found me.”
Verdigri slid a manila folder toward her across the table.
She looked down at it. “My next assignment?”
“Yes, however, you’ll be relieved to learn that this one will require just a touch less sneaking around through alleyways and ducking from gargoyle detection.’”
Rhiannon frowned.
“Open it.”
She opened the file to find several sheets detailing the necessities of television networks in the arena of special effects. “This is Samuel Lambent’s work order,” she surmised.
“Indeed. The Swallowtail Foundation does have a legitimate job to do, after all. And…” he added more softly, “what better time than now, when we could use the cover?”
Rhiannon took a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh. She hadn’t realized she’d been more or less holding her breath until the new intake of oxygen refueled her bloodstream and cleared her head. “Okay, I admit I’m a little relieved.”
Verdigri chuckled. He took another sip of his lemonade, and the waiter came by the table. He deposited a tall glass of heavily iced tea in front of Rhiannon, as this was what she normally ordered, and she smiled her thanks before opening several packets of Splenda to mix them in. Then she grabbed the spoon from the utensil display beside her glass and began stirring.
“Rhiannon, I would like you to come back to your home here,” Verdigri suddenly said. Rhiannon stopped mid-stir and looked up. He went on. “This police officer, Detective Salvatore….” He shook his head and sat back in his seat, his gaze becoming distant. “He troubles me.”
“But, I thought we had come to an agreement that we needn’t worry too much about him.”
Verdigri met her gaze. “As far as him outing our organization? I’m frankly not worried at all. But I wasn’t completely honest with you before.”
Rhiannon steeled herself for the second time that day.
He took a deep breath and sighed. “Everything I said about him posing a threat to Swallowtail was true. I believe he would not have the physical evidence needed to pin Thursday’s events on you or expose the Foundation for what it really is. However, I’m not fully convinced that this is the only thing we have to be wary of when it comes to Mr. Salvatore.”
“Oh?” Now she was listening.
“He seems to fit the description of the stranger in black remarkably well, does he not?”
Rhiannon blinked. Then she blinked again. “Um….”
She had most certainly noticed that, and the idea had definitely crossed her mind, but she hadn’t said anything to her employer at all about her observations. For the most part, she hadn’t said anything because as quickly as the idea had entered her mind, she’d dismissed it.
“Miss Dante,” said Verdigri, his voice a touch scolding, “when will you learn that not much gets past me?”
That was exactly what he had told her the last time she’d been sitting across from him in this atrium.
Rhiannon blew out a breath and shrugged. “Alright, I suppose that he does outwardly and in some ways resemble the stranger from the gala. And the thought had occurred to me, but I didn’t mention it because in all honesty, the idea now seems preposterous. This guy is a detective with the NYPD. He probably gets paid squat. He’s out and about during the day, doing his thing…. Once I thought about it, it just didn’t seem to fit. What sort of supernatural creature who can trans-mutate basic metals into gold would willingly subject himself to the horrors of being a police officer in New York City? He’d have to be some sort of saint or something. And that man on the dance floor was no saint.” Of that, she was deep-down certain.
When she’d finished, Mr. Verdigri watched her in silence for some time. At length, he sat back once more and said, “Christianity believes that their devil, Lucifer, was once their god’s favorite angel.” He smiled a small smile. “Miss Dante, if angels can fall so far out of grace, I’m willing to bet saints can as well.”
“Then he wouldn’t still be a cop. Only a man who truly cares about helping people would dare to take that job in this town.” It wasn’t like driving around in a posh, tax-payer-funded SUV in some West Texas town in the middle of nowhere where nothing dangerous ever went down, and if it did, there were thirty-five overweight, bored, and under-trained officers to deal with one criminal. “This is Manhattan.”
Her employer seemed to consider this for a bit. He touched his thick, white, bushy mustache, and finally sighed again. “Nevertheless, I want you to consider returning to your room here. Whether or not Detective Salvatore is our mystery man, he isn’t the only one with you in his sights.”
Rhiannon said nothing. What went unsaid was the knowledge that Verdigri and his foundation wouldn’t exist in their entirety if it wasn’t for her and her… special abilities. He was worried about her for a good many reasons.
“In the meantime,” he went on, sparing her from having to give him a reply. “We’re meeting with Lambent’s people tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. Try not to burn the midnight oil away tonight. We’ll be needing it to light fires soon enough.”
Chapter Eleven
It was a child’s scream, a higher pitched, distinctive sound capable of reaching
down deep into a woman’s chest, wrapping around her heart, and squeezing. It forced the instant release of adrenaline and cortisol into her bloodstream and flushed her limbs with immediate speed and strength. It was a cry for help from an innocent female, and no one worth the soul their body housed could ignore it. Especially not Angel.
She spun in the dream, her hair a bright halo around her, blurring her already blurred vision in the chaotic scape around her. There were lights flashing, the sound of snakes hissing, and men shouting.
Angel caught a flash of red and at once assumed it was the hair of the last of the four favored archangel’s archesses, Rhiannon. Lightning played down upon the ground below with reckless abandon, objects large and small went careening through the fuzzy dream-space to smash into walls or cars or people, and the heat and blaze of fire sporadically burned at Angel as she stumbled through the atmosphere.
The child’s scream was at last silenced, cutting off Angel’s only directional guide to the girl, and Angel made a frustrated sound as something hit her from the side, knocking her down to further disorient her. She reacted, leaping up and lashing out with whatever power was there at the ready. She didn’t even know what it was or what she’d managed to do before she was awakening to find a sunbeam slicing across her pillow and piercing her directly in the eyes. She sat up at once, brushed her hair away from her face, and looked around, trying to get her bearings.
It was still early. The garbage truck hadn’t come yet; through the window, she could see the trash overflowing from the green bins three stories down. Her neighbors weren’t up yet either. If they had been, she would be hearing cartoons through the thin walls.
Angel shoved her covers aside, got out of bed, and made her way quickly into the other room, where her laptop was plugged in on her desk against the wall. She nudged the chair aside with her leg, bent over the desk, popped open the computer, and waited for the screen to light up.
Warrior's Angel (The Lost Angels Book 4) Page 10
