[Fallen Angels 01] - Covet

by J. R. Ward

  Okay, it was time for the kind of good-bye that didn’t require an audience.

  Vin pointed to his car. “Considering you have the key, you mind warming that up?”

  Jim’s brow rose. “I might be acting like your chauffeur, but I’m not wearing a cap and uniform. So if you want some privacy, just ask for it.” The guy turned and gave Marie-Terese a nod. “I’ll meet you out in front of the Commodore.”

  She nodded back. “See you there.”

  Vin watched the guy get behind the wheel of the M6 and shut the door. A moment later, the engine turned over and a thumping vibrated. Stereo was on. Nice touch.

  Marie-Terese shook her head. “You really need to go to the doctor.”

  “Would you feel better if I told you I’ve been doing that since I was eleven?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it hasn’t killed me yet.” Abruptly, he thought of his vision of the gun and the sound of the shot, and it took all he had not to sound as desperate as he felt. “Listen, I don’t know what’s doing in your background….” As her face tightened up, he knew better than to take that one any further. “I realize the owner of that club is making you feel protected, but that’s only at the Iron Mask. What if someone follows you home?”

  “If you saw my house, you’d understand why I’m not worried.”

  Vin frowned, thinking that at least she seemed prepared. “I promise I’m not going to pry, but if you know who might come after you, go to the police. And if you can’t go to them, have your manager take care of it privately.”

  “Ah…thanks for the advice.”

  Man, he hated this. If only he knew what he’d said to her in the trances, except…well, shit, the gun told him enough, didn’t it.

  “Where do you live?” he said softly.

  As she opened her mouth, he thought for a moment that she was going to answer him. But then she caught herself. “Where exactly is the Commodore? In case I get separated from you guys.”

  He gave her directions. “I’m on the twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth floors.”

  “Both?”

  “Both.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Shit, he could feel her closing herself off from him, unplugging the connection. “I’ll follow you guys over there.”

  As she turned away, he touched her elbow. “What’s your cell number?”

  There was a long pause. “I’m sorry…I just can’t.”

  “All right. I understand. But you have all mine. Call me, please. Anytime.” He leaned to the side and cranked her door even wider so she could get in, and he waited to shut it until she had the seat belt drawn across her chest. After a couple of tries, her car wheezed into a semblance of an idle, and she glanced up like she was waiting for him to get a move on.

  The sound of one of the M6’s windows going down made him want to curse. And so did Jim’s voice: “Textbook way of getting a ride home is you sit in the car. Unless you want to jump on the front bumper?”

  Vin stalked around the BMW, got in and parked it in the passenger seat. “Don’t lose her.”

  “I won’t.”

  And he didn’t. Jim handled the M6 perfectly. He was fast, nimble…but not so quick that Marie-Terese couldn’t keep up.

  Against the backdrop of classic rock, Vin didn’t feel the need to explain why he and Marie-Terese had been at the diner alone. Not in the slightest.

  At all.

  “Just answer me one thing,” Jim said, as if he read minds.

  “Marie-Terese met with the cops and so did the owner.” Vin looked across the car. “They didn’t say anything about us and have no intention to.”

  Jim’s eyes shot across the seats. “Not what I was going to ask, but good to know. What about the security cameras?”

  “Taken care of.”

  “Nice.”

  “Don’t get too excited. I told Marie-Terese that if she was going to get compromised, or if there was any pressure on her, she needed to serve us up like a steak.”

  “Answer me one thing.”

  “What.”

  “What are you going to do about Devina?”

  Vin crossed his arms over his chest. “Just because I have breakfast with someone—”

  “Bull. Shit. And don’t front. What are you going to do.”

  “Why do you care?”

  There was a long pause. So long that they went through two red lights.

  As they accelerated after the second, Jim looked over. His eyes were arresting, positively glowing. “I care, Vin, because I’ve come to believe in demons.”

  Vin whipped his head around, and Jim went back to focusing on the road as he continued. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was here to save your soul. I’m beginning to think I got it wrong, though.”

  “Got what wrong?”

  “Tell me about this fucking Victorian vapors thing you’ve got going on.”

  “Wait, what did you get wrong?”

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to end up with Devina.” The guy slowly shook his head and glanced up into the rearview mirror. “My job is to help you get through this part of your life and end up in a better place. And I’m coming to believe that means you need to be with that woman who…yup, just ran a red light to keep up with us.”

  “You should have stopped,” Vin snapped, taking hold of the mirror and yanking it around so he could see Marie-Terese behind the wheel.

  She was ten-and-two’ing her hands, and focusing on the M6, concentration tightening her brows. Her lips were moving slightly, as if she were singing a song or talking to herself, and he wondered which one it was.

  “So what about this passing-out thing?” Jim prompted. “You’re not surprised about it, are you.”

  Vin reangled the mirror. “You ever hear of a medium?”

  Jim looked over. “Yeah.”

  “Well, I see the future and sometimes I talk when I do. And there’s some other shit, too. So…there you go. And lest you think it’s a fucking party, let me assure you it’s not. I did my best to get it out of me and thought I’d licked it. Guess not.”

  When there was just the rising and falling of the M6’s massive engine, he said roughly, “You get points for not laughing.”

  “You know what? I might have a couple of days ago.” Jim shrugged. “Now I’m not inclined to at all. You always been like that?”

  “Started when I was a kid.”

  “So…what did you see about her?” When Vin couldn’t bring himself to reply, Jim muttered, “Okay, I’m guessing it wasn’t candlelit dinners and romantic walks on the beach.”

  “Not hardly.”

  “What was it, Vin. And you might as well tell me. You and I are in this together.”

  Anger spiked, hard and hot. “Right, I showed you mine. Now you show me yours. What the fuck are you doing—”

  “I died. Yesterday afternoon…I died and I’ve been sent back to help people. You’re my first.”

  Now it was Vin’s turn to get good and silent.

  “Looks like you get points for not laughing, too,” Jim muttered. “Tell you what, let’s stipulate that we both have some of the WTF going for us and move along. I need to save your ass from yourself and like I said, I have a feeling the solution is not Devina, but the woman behind us in that Camry. So why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what you saw about her—because I’m not going to fail on my first trip out of the park, and the more I know the better.”

  Jim Heron did not seem delusional, and considering where Vin was coming from when it came to the freaky shit, he figured he could give at least marginal credence to what the guy said. Even if it didn’t make any more sense than…well, medium trances, for example.

  “I saw…a gun go off.”

  Jim’s head slowly swiveled around. “Who was hit? You or her?”

  “I don’t know. I’m assuming her.”

  “You ever been wrong?”

  “No.”

  The guy’s hands cranked on the steering wheel. “Well. There
you go.”

  “Sounds like we have more to talk about.”

  “Yup.”

  Instead, they didn’t say another thing: They sat side by side in the car, and Vin couldn’t ignore the metaphor, the two of them belted in on some kind of ride, with God only knew what outcome waiting for them.

  As he looked into the rearview mirror again, he prayed that Marie-Terese wasn’t the one who got hurt. Better him. Much better.

  When they finally got to the Commodore, they pulled into the garage, and as Marie-Terese waited in front, Vin thought maybe that was a good thing: He’d just end up trying to say good-bye to her again, and enough was enough.

  “I’m spot number eleven over there.”

  After the M6 was parked, Vin got out of the car, took the key from his new buddy, and they went their separate ways, with Jim heading over to the stairwell that would lead him up to the street.

  Vin walked off in the opposite direction to the elevator, and when its doors opened wide for him, he stepped in and turned around. Jim was almost to the exit, his stride closing the distance quickly.

  Vin blocked the elevator doors from shutting and called out, “I’m going to break up with Devina.”

  Jim stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Good. But go easy on her. She’s in love with you.”

  “She certainly makes it appear that way.” But underneath all that “loving” exterior, there was something hollow about her—and it had been part of the reason he’d wanted her around: He’d rather have dealt with the calculation, because self-interest he trusted more than love.

  Not anymore. Shifts were occurring in him, shifts he could no more control than he could stop the imposition of those visions. On a usual day, he was ninety-nine percent about business. In the past twenty-four hours? He was pulling a fifty percent, if that: His mind had been consumed with other, more important things…things that had a lot to do with Marie-Terese.

  “I’ll keep you posted,” he told Jim.

  “You do that.”

  Vin let the doors close, and hit the button for his floor. He had to talk to Devina, and he needed to get that conversation over with. It wasn’t only the fair thing to do…he had some sense of urgency about it that had nothing to do with the fact that he wasn’t looking forward to hurting her.

  That horrible dream was still with him…like it had stained his brain permanently.

  On the twenty-eighth floor, the elevator let out a discreet bing, and he stepped out and went up to his door. As he opened the way into the duplex, Devina rushed down the stairs, a huge smile on her face.

  “Look what I found while I was tidying your study.” She extended her open palms, holding out the Reinhardt’s box. “Oh, Vin! It’s perfect!”

  She rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck, her perfume choking him even more than her hold did. As she went on about how she shouldn’t have opened it but couldn’t help herself, and how it even fit her finger, Vin closed his eyes and saw echoes of the nightmare he’d had.

  A conviction lit off in the center of his chest, one that was as undeniable as his own reflection in a mirror.

  She was not who she said she was.

  CHAPTER

  20

  When Jim got into the green Camry, he leaned over and extended his hand. “Jim Heron. Figured we might as well introduce ourselves.”

  “Marie-Terese.”

  The woman’s smile was slight, but warm, and as he waited for a last name, he had a feeling one wasn’t coming.

  “Thanks for the ride back,” he said.

  “Not a problem. How’s Vin doing?”

  “For a guy who just trouted it in a parking lot, he seems all right.” Jim looked over at her as he did up his seat belt. “You holding up okay? Talking to the cops is not a party.”

  “Did Vin tell you? You know about the security tapes and…”

  “Yeah, he did, and thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She put on her directional signal, checked her mirrors, and pulled out after an SUV went by. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “How long have you been sleeping with his girlfriend?”

  Jim tightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “The night before last, I saw you leave with his girlfriend after she’d spent about an hour staring at you. Same thing last evening. No offense, but I’ve been watching people do stuff like that for a while now, so I doubt there was only a lot of hand-holding going on in the parking lot.”

  Well, well, well…she was smart. This Marie-Terese was smart.

  “What do you think of Vin?” he asked.

  “Not going to answer me? I don’t blame you.”

  “What’s your last name?” He smiled grimly as silence reigned. “Not going to answer me? I don’t blame you.”

  As she flushed, he eased off with a curse. “Look, I’m sorry. Been a rough couple of days.”

  She nodded. “And it’s none of my business, actually.”

  He wasn’t so sure about that.

  “Just out of curiosity, what do you think of him?” As Jim waited for her to answer, he thought, Jesus, since when had he turned into a modern-day, dick-swinging Ann Landers? Next thing he knew, he’d be getting facials and ironing his clothes.

  Or…cleaning his clothes.

  Whatever.

  “Well, anyway,” he said, aware she hadn’t replied, “I don’t know him all that much, but Vin’s a good guy.”

  She glanced over. “How long have you known him?”

  “I work for him. He’s into construction and I have a hammer. Match made in Heaven.” Jim thought of the Four Lads and rolled his eyes. “Literally.”

  As they came up to a stoplight, she said, “I’m not looking for him. For anyone.”

  Jim glanced up at the sky through its frame of skyscrapers. “You don’t have to be searching to find what you need.”

  “I’m not going to be with him, so…yeah. That’s it.”

  Great. One step forward. Two steps back. Vin appeared to be on board; Marie-Terese was not interested—in spite of the fact that she was clearly attracted to the guy and that she cared about him enough to worry how he was going to make it back home safely.

  As they went along with the traffic, they passed by a couple who were walking side by side, their hands linked. They weren’t young lovers, though; they were old. Very old.

  But only in the skin, not in the heart.

  “You ever been in love, Marie-Terese?” Jim asked softly.

  “Hell of a question to ask a prostitute.”

  “I haven’t. Been in love, that is. Just wondered if you had.” He touched the glass, and the old woman caught the gesture and clearly thought he’d waved at her. As she lifted her free hand, he wondered if maybe he had.

  He smiled at her a little and she smiled back and then they resumed their separate ways.

  “Why is that relevant,” Marie-Terese said.

  He thought of Vin in that cold, beautiful duplex, surrounded by inanimate beautiful objects.

  And then he thought of Vin, looking at Marie-Terese in the sunlight.

  The guy’s soul had been fed at that moment. He had been transformed. He had been truly alive.

  “It’s relevant because I’m beginning to think,” Jim murmured, “love might be everything.”

  “I used to believe that,” Marie-Terese said hoarsely. “But then I married the man I did, and that whole fantasy stuff got blown out the window.”

  “Maybe that wasn’t love.”

  Her choked laugh told him he was on the right track with that one. “Yeah, maybe.”

  They pulled into the parking lot of the diner and headed over to his Harley.

  “Thanks again for the ride,” he said.

  “I’m happy to help.”

  He got out of the car, closed the door and watched her turn around. As she took off, he memorized her license plate.

  When he was sure she was gone, he put on his
helmet, started his bike, and took off. Considering his list of crimes, an unregistered Harley wasn’t even a blip on his radar.

  Besides, the stiff wind on his chest and arms peeled off some of the stress and blew his brain more clear—although what was revealed made him ill. It was pretty obvious what he needed to do next, and though he hated it, sometimes you had to suck shit up: He had a woman he needed to keep alive, Vin’s vision of a gunshot, and two obnoxious college boys who were now dead, thanks to having been popped. What the situation required was information, and there was only one way he knew to get it.

  He didn’t like whoring himself out, but you had to do what you had to do…and he was willing to bet that mantra was something Marie-Terese knew all about, too.

  As soon as he pulled into his studio’s gravel drive, Dog came out from under the truck and limped with joy over to the bike, all wags as he escorted the way into the garage. After Jim took off his helmet, he leaned down for a proper hello and Dog’s tail got going so fast, it was a damn miracle the little guy could stay on his paws.

  Odd to have someone to welcome him home.

  Jim picked the dog up, hooked him over his arm, and went up the stairs to unlock the door. Inside, he did the petting thing while he found his cell phone in the messy bed.

  Sitting down on the mattress and feeling Dog’s small, warm body curl up around his hip, Jim thought long and hard before dialing. It felt like a step backward, and the familiarity of it sickened him, which was kind of interesting.

  Christ, had he been trying to make a fresh start of things here?

  Looking around, he saw what Vin had seen: two piles of clothes, a twin bed that no one bigger than a twelve-year-old could be comfortable in, furniture that had Goodwill stamped all over it, and a single ceiling light with a crack through its cover.

  Not exactly fresh-start material, but then again, compared to where he’d been and what he’d been doing, sleeping on a park bench would have counted.

  As he stared at the phone, the ramifications of what would happen if that old, familiar voice came on the line were very clear.

  Jim punched in the eleven digits and hit send anyway.

  When the ringing stopped and there was no voice mail, he said one word: “Zacharias.”