Possession (Fallen Angels #5)(46)
Author: J.R. Ward

Jim cranked around and blinked away his double vision—okay, clearly, he was in a lot of pain, but he was backseating the sensation so completely, he was unaware of anything other than his internal directive to get-the-fuck-out-of-here. “You’re crazy.”

“All things considered, I’d say that’s your diagnosis, not mine—”

“Much as I loathe to agree with him, the fool has got a point.”

The dry English tones brought both their heads around.

“Colin,” Jim muttered. “Nice to see you.”

Not.

The archangel was dressed in whites, but it was his version of same, not Nigel’s—white track pants, white T-shirt, white Converse All Stars. He looked like a Beastie Boy. Or … a hot guy who most women would enjoy looking at.

And for some reason, that cranked Jim out—especially as Sissy slowly got to her feet and came forward. For shit’s sake, it would have been so much better if the guy had been decrepit or sported a stick up the ass, like Nigel did. But nooooo, he was nothing but tall, dark and haloed. In short, not Sissy’s type.

At least, not if Jim had anything to do with—

Wait a minute. Was he actually getting jealous here? In a hospital room. When Sissy was doing nothing but simply stare at the slick bastard?

Guess the concussion thing was right enough—and apparently, the sector in his brain responsible for having any f**king sense at all had been shut down by the swelling.

Jim kicked shut the drawer with his bad foot and nearly passed out. “I got this, Colin,” he muttered.

When neither of them paid any attention to him, he put his body in between the two. “I. Got. This.”

Colin cocked a dark eyebrow. “Actually, mate, there’s considerable uncertainty about that—which presents us all with a problem, doesn’t it. You’ve got a lot riding on you.”

“Thanks for the recap. But I’m tight.”

“Then why would you be here on a ward with your head in bandages and your leg—”

“Because shit happens, Colin, okay? Now will you leave—”

“You must take care of your business.” Colin’s stare narrowed. “Before you compound your bad decisions.”

Jim leaned in, even though he was in no shape to fight about things. “I am taking care of—”

“Not that business—”

“Sir?”

Annnnd here was another interruption, this time by a nurse who had thrown the door open. “Sir? Please get back in bed—”

Ignoring her, he focused on Colin. “I can handle—”

“Who are you talking to? And, sir—your IV! You took it out?”

Cue the chaos. Suddenly there were people in white coats and scrubs all over the place, all of them talking at him—while Sissy backed up into the wall, and Colin looked on with a bored expression.

Jim shoved the medical staff away, at least until a six-footer got up into his personal space and announced, “There’s no AMA checkout for you. You’re going nowhere until the police take you down to book you.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “You actually think I’m going to get arrested?”

“It’s called reckless driving. Misappropriation of identity. Assault—remember when you tackled that paramedic? We had to treat him for lacerations, by the way.”

With a curse, Jim tried to collect his shit, to concentrate, to throw out some kind of magic, anything that would help him control this mess. And it should have worked, goddamn it. Ever since Eddie had taught him the how-to’s, he’d been able to take care of things the I Dream of Jeannie way.

Except … fuck, it hadn’t worked back on that street. And as he tried again … and again … and again … and nothing happened … he knew it wasn’t working now.

“Get back in that bed, sir,” the orderly said. “Or I’m going to put you there myself.”

Through his haze of pain and frustration, Jim figured there were two obvious options: Lie down like a good boy and wait for the CPD to crawl up his ass … or let Colin take care of things.

He picked door number three.

Wheeling around, he grabbed the chair Sissy had been sitting in and hauled it at the plate-glass window across the way. Just as contact was made, he took one last go at the magic routine—and things must have come together somehow, at least slightly: The four-by-five-foot section blew outward, exploding into the night and letting the cold air plow into the room.

Jim traded places with the dark breeze.

Diving through the opening, he went into a tuck as he hit a brief free fall. Then he rolled out on the gravel-topped roof of the building that was one story down from where he’d been.

Man, thank God for the jigsaw-puzzle architecture of most medical centers—he’d only guessed there would be a roof to catch him; he hadn’t known for sure.

As he took off at a sloppy run, he had a momentary communion with Adrian and everything that other angel had to deal with. What a painful pain in the ass this broken leg was, the shocks of incredible agony making his heart thunder in his chest and his head go fuzzy. But he refused to let the physical stuff matter. In fact, it felt like old home week as he put aside the problems within his body and gunned hard for the far edge of the building.

He prayed there was something at that end that he could use to get to the ground.

He also prayed that Sissy understood he wasn’t deserting her. Not for long, at any rate. The bottom line, however, was that Colin was with her, and Jim knew that Devina wouldn’t go anywhere near the archangel. He also knew that for all the angel’s annoyance? He wouldn’t leave an innocent to fend for herself; he just wouldn’t.

All Jim needed was enough time to regain some of his power because shit knew he was useless in that sea of humans in his current condition—

Off in the distance, shouts broke out behind him, echoing down from that hole he’d made in the building.

Sorry, fellas. But look on the bright side, that window was one last thing for the cleaning staff to disinfect.

Shuffling along, he headed past some industrial fans and was, thank you, baby Jesus, provided with a way down: Over at the corner, dull security lights illuminated the curled arms of a ladder.

As soon as he got over to the thing, he swung himself up and around and then slid down like he was on a pair of ropes. Landing in a heap, he had to catch his breath, his leg hurting way more than his head, his eyes sweeping around, looking for an opportunity through an irritating haze.