Covet (Fallen Angels 1)

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.