Immortal (Page 46)

Immortal (Fallen Angels #6)(46)
Author: J.R. Ward

Pacing up and down on the grass, he waited … and waited. Just like the bitch to take her sweet time—

As his phone rang, he took it out and answered the damn thing. “Yeah?”

“She’s here. At home.”

“What?”

Ad’s voice stayed quiet, like maybe she was in the next room and he didn’t want her to hear him. “Yup. Says she got bored and decided to head back.”

“Don’t let her go anywhere.”

“Roger that. She’s just going to help me with the plywood—”

Jim cut the other angel off and left Sissy’s grave in the blink of an eye.

“No, I’ve got it.” Sissy gave a hard yank and pulled a section of plywood out of the back of the Explorer. “See? No problem.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not totally crippled.”

“And girls are strong, too.”

She and Ad took a break to glare at each other. And then they both grabbed hold of a side of the sheet and walked over the grass, heading for those blown-out windows.

“It was a miracle you got all this in the back of the SUV,” she grunted.

“Yup,” he strained. “But a couple of bungee cords and that back hatch did just fine being mostly open.”

“Have you called the landlords?”

“Not yet.”

It was slow going, what with his limp and the fact that her hands kept slipping. Who knew boards weighed this much?

Over at the parlor, they put the plywood down and leaned it against the house. She was glad she wasn’t the only one panting—boy, they still had five more left to unload, several of which had to go around the corner of the house on the far side.

“You really should have waited for us,” Ad muttered between deep breaths.

“Like I said, I’m sorry.”

“Jim’s due back any minute.”

“Let’s get the next sheet.”

Back at the Explorer, she reached and locked onto the wood. Giving it another yank, she—

“Shit!” Pulling back her hands, she looked down at her palm. The rough edge had cut into her skin, streaking across and leaving a bloody trail … that was silver, not red.

“Are you okay?”

Spinning around, she looked up into Jim’s eyes—and promptly forgot what was wrong with her. He was standing on the lawn about three feet away, still in what he’d been wearing when they’d left. But he was totally and completely different.

Rising up behind both of his shoulders were an angel’s trademark, the shimmering beauty of what she’d seen on Christmas trees and Christmas cards and on TV suddenly very real. All she could do was blink.

Wings. Iridescent angel wings—

“Why did you leave without saying something?”

It took her a second to figure out he was talking to her. “Ah … I just did.”

“I’m gonna ask nice. Please … don’t do that again. You scared the shit out of me.”

Overhead, a cloud drifted across the sun, cutting the glare and the warmth. But Jim remained resplendent, somehow creating his own illumination, like he was a kind of destination in and of himself. A place where she wanted to end up—

Like a neon sign that was suddenly plugged in, images of Jim making love to Devina flashed in her mind’s eye, popping up and eclipsing the vision before her.

Reigniting her anger.

“Look, can we talk?” he said.

“I’ve got to take care of my hand.”

“I’ll come with you.”

As she headed into the house, she saw him make a motion to Ad—like he wanted to be sure they had some privacy. Fine. Whatever.

She didn’t have anything to hide. Then again, the same wasn’t true for him.

Back in the kitchen, she started the water running and got out the dish soap—no reason to get fussy about cleaning things off. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she had to bother, but old Neosporin habits died hard.

“You can’t do that to me,” he said roughly.

“I’m fine,” she hissed as she put her palm under the faucet.

“Sissy—”

“You know what I did while you were gone?” She squeezed some Ivory soap out onto the cuts and hissed again. “I looked you up. On the Internet.”

She glanced behind herself to find that he was totally still. And his wings were gone now—guess they only appeared when he needed them to travel—and somehow that seemed right.

She refocused on rubbing her hands together until the soap frothed up. “Your computer is pretty fast—and that’s a good thing. There’s a lot on you. But it made for quick reading.”

As he went over and sat down at the kitchen table, she had the sense that his eyes never wavered from her—and it was obvious he was surprised.

“What made you decide to look me up,” he said.

“Just a whim.” She cut off the water and went for some paper towels to dry things off. “Is it true that they couldn’t find all the body parts? Of those men who … killed your mother? I mean, I know you murdered them, right?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Some things are never a long time ago.”

“So what do you want me to say.” When she didn’t reply, he shrugged. “You brought this up for a reason.”

“What did you do afterward?”

“You read the articles.”

“They say you died. Clearly, that wasn’t true. So what did you do? I can’t believe the military took someone that young in—were you in foster care until you joined? Or were there other arrangements made?”

In the silence that followed, she realized that she was hoping he came clean and told her everything. Which was dumb. Like that was going to change anything?

His stare narrowed. “Where is all this coming from?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just all of a sudden, out of the blue, decide to look me up? Doesn’t make sense.”

“Kind of like you shutting down after you had sex with me, huh. Doesn’t make sense.”

He began patting pockets, and then cursed and got up. “Gimme a minute.”

When he came back into the kitchen, he had his cigarettes and his lighter—and he waited until he had a live one between his lips and had taken his first drag before he answered her.

“I’m really sorry about upstairs,” he said.

“Are you.”

“Yes.” He exhaled up to the ceiling. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”