Covet (Fallen Angels 1)

"Nope."

"What's with the limp?"

"It's the way he is." Eddie's big palm smoothed over the dog's rough fur. "It just is."

As he and Dog sat on the bed and Adrian wandered around, Jim took his headfuck over to the refrigerator, grabbed three Buds, and dealt the cans out like cards. A trio of cracks and hisses cut through the room and then there was a collective ahhhh.

"How much do you know about me?" Jim asked.

"Everything." Adrian looked around and focused on Jim's twin piles of clean and dirty. "Guess you don't believe in dresser drawers, do you."

Jim glanced down at his clothes. "Nope."

"Ironic, really."

"Why?"

"You'll see." Adrian went over and sat down at the table. Tipping the shoe box full of chess pieces toward him, he glanced inside. "So what do you want to know. About her, us, anything."

Jim took another drag on his Bud and thought it all over. "Only one thing matters to me," he said. "Can she be killed?"

Both of the angels went still. And slowly shook their heads.

Chapter 30

Considering what he'd been arrested for and the way things were going, Vin couldn't believe what was showing on the screen of his cell phone as the ringer went off.

As he accepted the call, he muted the local news and held on hard. "Marie-Terese?"

There was a pause. "Hi."

Swiveling around in his desk chair, he looked out over Caldwell and found it hard to comprehend that mere nights ago, he'd stared at the view with such a sense of domination. Now he felt like his life was totally out of control and he was fighting to stay where he was instead of being king of the mountain.

Never one to beat around the bush, he said, "Have you heard the news? About me?"

"Yes. But you were with me late last night, when it happened. I know you didn't do it."

Relief rolled through him - although only about that particular part of the shit storm. "And the other attack, in the alley?"

"I'm on the way to the Iron Mask now. The police want to talk to me."

"Can I see you," he blurted with a desperation that would have shocked him under normal circumstances.

"Yes."

Vin was surprised by the quick answer, but sure as shit not going to argue with it. "I'm at home over in the Commodore, so I can meet you anywhere, anytime."

"I'll come to you as soon as I'm done with the CPD."

"I'm on the twenty-eighth floor. I'll tell the doorman to expect you."

"I'm not sure how long I'm going to be, but I can text you when I'm on my way."

Vin shifted his eyes over to the left, imagining her however many blocks west and south of where he was. "Marie-Terese..."

"Yes?"

He thought of her and her son...thought of the kind of people she'd managed to get away from - thus far. Her ex could easily reach out from prison, maybe already had: even if those attacks weren't tied to her, or were being done by someone else, she still needed to keep the lowest profile she could.

"Don't try to protect me."

"Vin - "

"I'll explain more when you get here," he said gruffly. "But let's just say I know how much you have to lose if your face gets into the media channels."

Silence. Then: "How."

He could tell by the tightness in her voice that she didn't appreciate the look-see into her background. "Jim, my friend...he has connections. I didn't ask him to do it, by the way, but he told me what he found."

Long pause. The kind that made him wish to hell he'd waited to drop that little bomb until she was in front of him. But then she exhaled. "It's kind of a relief, actually. That you know."

"It goes without saying that I'll tell no one."

"I trust you."

"Good, because I would never do anything to hurt you." Now it was Vin's turn to get quiet. "God, Marie-Terese..."

There was the slight squeak of brakes. "I'm just at the club now. We'll talk in a little bit."

"Don't protect me. Please."

"See you soon - "

"Stay quiet. Don't get yourself involved with the shit that's on my tail. For your son's sake and yours. It's not worth the risk."

He stopped himself right there. No way he was going into the whole truth about Devina - partially because he didn't understand it fully himself, and mostly because he hated the idea of Marie-Terese thinking he was crazy.

"It's not right." Her voice broke. "What she's accusing you of. It's not - "

"I know. Just believe me when I say I'm going to take care of it. I'm going to handle this."

"Vin - "

"You know I'm right. See you in a bit." As they ended the call, he prayed she would go with the reasoning - and figured, given the conflict in her voice, that the math was adding up correctly in her mind.

This was good.

Instead of heading downtown to try to find that psychic he'd gone to for help when he was seventeen - which was what he'd intended to do - Vin spent the next hour in the living room, cleaning up pieces of glass and busted leather books and putting the couches and chairs back together. He even got out the vacuum and tried to resuscitate the carpet, making some inroads with the shards and absolutely none with the liquor stains. He had his phone with him the whole time, and when the text came through that Marie-Terese was on her way, he rolled the Dyson into the closet and jogged upstairs to change into a clean silk shirt.

He was almost on the way out of the bedroom when it dawned on him that he was still in the pans' and boxers he'd had on in jail.

Right. Back to the well.

Second trip out into the hall and he had on a sharp-ass pair of black slacks and some black boxer briefs. Changed his socks, too. Shoes were the same Bally loafers he'd been wearing for the past week. Her timing was perfect.

The home phone rang just as he hit the foyer, and he told the front-desk man to let her up. On the way to the door, Vin double-checked in the shattered mirror that he'd tucked his shirt in properly and his hair was looking okay - which was kind of girlie when he thought about it, but whatever.

Out in the corridor, the elevator arrived with a bing and he stood back a little to give Marie-Terese some space, even though he would have rather taken her right into his arms -

Oh, man. She was gorgeous. Just in jeans and that deep red fleece, with her hair down and no makeup on, she was total pinup material to him.

"Hi," he said, like an idiot.

"Hi." She moved her purse farther up on her shoulder and her eyes shifted around to the open door of the duplex. As she got a load of his golden front hall, her brows lifted slightly.

"You want to come in?" He stepped to the side and motioned with his hand. "Be warned though...the place is a mess after..."

As she moved past him, he breathed in deep. What do you know. The scent of clean laundry was still his favorite perfume.

Vin shut the door, engaged the dead bolt, and put the chain in place. Which didn't seem halfway to safe enough: He had a heebie paranoia about Devina that made him wonder whether that kind of conventional stuff would keep her out of any place she wanted to go.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Not liquor, of course. At least, not in the living room. God knew there was none of it left there.

Marie-Terese headed toward the banks of glass. "This is quite a..." She hesitated as she came across a stain in the carpet and then looked around at the room and less at the view.

"It was even worse before I tried to clean it up a little," he said. "Christ...I have no idea what happened here."

"Why would your girlfriend lie?"

"Ex-girlfriend," he reminded her.

Marie-Terese glanced into the broken mirror to meet his eyes, and the sight of her features all scrambled in the field of cracks freaked his shit out - to the point where he had to go over in hopes of getting her out of its torturous reflection.

As she turned to face him, her eyes were scared. "Vin...that man who was attacked. He was the one I helped in the bathroom - we went in together and talked about this girl he wanted to impress." She put her hand over her mouth and trembled. "Oh, God...he was with me and then he..."

Vin went over and wrapped his arms around her, holding her closely. As she took a deep breath, he felt it from his thighs to his ribs, and goddamn it if he didn't want to kill to protect her.