Phoenix had seen those.
He’d been shirtless around her before, but only when it was dark. Even then, he hadn’t gone out of his way to give her a view of his back.
He wondered what she’d made of them.
Well, assuming she didn’t already know what they were from.
Frowning, he turned back around to face the mirror, looking at his black eye, what might have been a broken cheekbone, if it wasn’t half-healed. Both things were still tender to the touch, but they shouldn’t look this good, not after twelve, or even thirty-six hours.
Hell, he shouldn’t be able to open his eyes.
Still frowning, he washed his mouth out, using some of the mouthwash she had in a bottle by the sink. He wished he had a toothbrush, but he’d have to wait for that until he got home. He had to get back there anyway, to walk and feed Steve McQueen.
The poor guy was probably freaking out, wondering where he was.
He also had to find some way to get his car.
He’d go home first.
Exhaling, he turned, and found her standing in the doorway.
He tensed, more in surprise, then relaxed.
“Don’t suppose you have an extra toothbrush?” he said.
She nodded towards the far-left drawer, next to the sink.
“In there,” she said.
She watched him open the drawer by tugging lightly on the painted, ceramic handle. He found a dark-blue toothbrush, still in the wrapper, and ripped it out of the plastic, glancing around the sink until he found her toothpaste in a standup dispenser.
She didn’t leave, so he put toothpaste on the brush, and just had at it.
It felt like he hadn’t brushed his teeth in days.
“I brought your dog over,” she said, still standing by the door. “Well,” she amended, when he looked over in surprise. “I tried calling Kara, but she never called me back. In the end, I had one of our security guys go get him. I didn’t want you to worry about him.”
Dags frowned, still mostly in bewilderment.
He didn’t speak.
“He’s downstairs,” she added. “Either that, or in Asia’s room. I swear to God she wants to steal that dog from you. He’s slept with her every night since you got here.”
Dags spit out a mouthful of toothpaste, washing his mouth out with water.
Looking back over his shoulder at her after he spit it out, he said,
“Every night?”
She nodded, still holding the door frame. “Yeah.”
“How many nights is that?”
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You don’t know?”
Meeting her gaze in the mirror, he shook his head. He squeezed another dab of toothpaste on the brush, and went back to scrubbing his teeth. He did that for a few minutes more, then rinsed again, laying the toothbrush on the counter by the sink.
“Are you going to tell me?” he said.
“I had to count days,” she said. “I think it’s been five now.”
“Five days?”
“Yeah. Six nights.”
He turned, looking at her for real.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Why are my clothes still here?”
She looked down at the pile, then shrugged. “I’ve been distracted. And I told the staff no one was allowed in here. I was afraid you might… you know…”
He stared at her, straightening to his full height.
“No,” he said. “I don’t know.”
She made wing movements with her hands, her mouth pursed.
“You know,” she said. “I was worried you might do something angel-y. Something that was going to completely freak out someone on my staff. I mean… you’ve never acted like it was much of a secret with me. But I figured you wouldn’t thank me if I told a bunch of people.”
Dags leaned against the sink counter, staring at her.
He was thrown, he had to admit.
“What kind of…” He hesitated. “You know… angel-y things… was I doing?”
She exhaled, leaning move heavily into the door frame and folding her arms.
“You know,” she said, shrugging. “You were kind of in and out. Like, hallucinating, or like you had a fever or something. I couldn’t always reason with you. When you got nervous, or scared, you did that glowy thing a lot.”
She held up her hands, making pulsing motions with her fingers.
“Is that all?” he said.
She snorted. “That’s not enough? That you lit up like a Christmas tree?”
“That’s not what I meant⏤”
“I know,” she cut in. “I know what you meant. And no. That’s not all.”
Her face reddened as she seemed to be thinking, or remembering maybe.
She shrugged, looking up at him cautiously.
“Your wings came out a few times,” she said. “When you were really freaked out. I didn’t want to risk letting strange people in here, when you weren’t fully conscious and couldn’t seem to control the wing thing. Your wings are really damned big. Like… huge. A lot bigger than I might have expected⏤”
“You had an expected wing size for me?” he said, frowning.
She kept talking.
“⏤Anyway, I didn’t want anyone coming in here, not those first few days. I thought it might set you off. The wings seemed to come out when you thought you needed to escape. When you believed you were in danger. Strangers didn’t seem like a great idea.”
Dags felt his jaw harden.
He only nodded.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” she said, her voice cautious again. “I mean, you told me a little⏤”
“What did I tell you?”
“You said you couldn’t get your friend out. You said there were too many of them. That some of them wanted to kill you, but some ‘head demon’ ordered them not to. You said they did something to your mind? That part wasn’t clear. You also told me they wanted something from both of us. That we were somehow part of some bigger plan.”
Dags felt his jaw harden more.
Averting his gaze from hers, he made himself nod.
“So what happened?” she said.
He exhaled, more in frustration than anything, throwing up a hand.
“It sounds like I told you what happened,” he said. “I followed Jade and your actor friend, Jamie Paz, to a house in Brentwood. It turned out it was a house full of demons. I barely got out of there.”
“Brentwood?” she said. “Really?”
He nodded, meeting her gaze. “I left my car there. I must have. I don’t think I drove here. I don’t think I drove anywhere.”
She nodded. “I found you outside. Your wings were out.”
She swallowed, her jaw hardening briefly, even as her eyes grew brighter.
“The feathers,” she said, clearing her throat. “They were covered with blood. I washed you off in the shower… which was a gymnastic feat, let me tell you. You wouldn’t let me call anyone. I’m amazed you didn’t go crashing through those windows. You came close to taking off a few times.”
She grunted, as if thinking about that.
“I mean… I get why you didn’t want me to call 911. It was damned scary, though. You told me they’d given you some kind of drug. I had no idea what it was, but you seemed to think it might kill you… or do something to your mind.”
She met his gaze, her words a near-accusation.
“I really thought you might die.”
He wasn’t sure what to say to that.
After a pause, he pushed off from the counter, walking over to the pile of clothes on the floor. He picked up his pants, fishing in one pocket, then the next, until he found his keys. He set them on the counter, along with his wallet. He went through the pockets of his jacket next. In those he found a matchbook from The Dolphin, along with his phone with the glass face more or less pulverized.
He also found a glass vial, cracked, but nothing like
the phone.
It still had maybe a half-inch of the violet liquid inside it.
He stared at that liquid as he tilted the vial back and forth, looking at the violet serum in the sunlight streaming through the window behind Phoenix.
He still had no idea what it was.
He remembered being forced to drink it.
He remembered grabbing the vial off the demon who’d stolen Kara’s body.
He had no idea why he’d thought to take it, or how he’d managed to hold onto it as he crashed through that sliding glass door, but he was glad he did. He wanted to know what the hell they put in him.
“You said they drugged you,” Phoenix said.
He looked over at her.
She still stood in the doorway.
“You said they drugged you,” she repeated, nodding towards the vial. “Was that it?”
Dags nodded. “Yeah.”
He set it down carefully next to his wallet, his keys, and the matchbox.
Phoenix walked over to where he stood, and scooped the keys off the counter.
“Where is your car?” she said.
“I’ll get it, Phoenix⏤”
“Like hell you will.” Her green and gold eyes blazed at him. “You’re not going anywhere near that house, Dags. Not until you’re back to full strength… and really, not even then. Certainly not alone. Certainly not today.”
Her lips firmed as she stared at him.
When he didn’t say anything, her voice changed, turning into a near-command.
“Address.” She motioned with a hand. “Come on, cough it up. If you don’t have the exact address, tell me as much as you can remember about where you left it. I’ll have a couple of my guys go get it, and bring it back here.”
Dags started to shake his head.
She took another step towards him, still gripping his keys.
“You need your car,” she said. “There’s no reason to think they’ll go anywhere near my security team. Let them go get your car, Dags.”
After a bare pause, he agreed, reluctantly.
“I don’t know the house number,” he said. “Burlingame… near Evanston. It was a brick house. White trim. With a lot of land around it.”
He was already tired.
She nodded, her shoulders relaxing visibly.
“Take a shower,” she told him, pocketing his keys in the dark pink sweatpants she wore and leaning down to scoop up his clothes. “I’ll go arrange for some breakfast. You need to eat something. I was going to bring in a nurse and put you on an I.V. if you didn’t wake up today. You must have heard me threatening it while you were passed out.”
He watched her gather up everything remaining of his clothes and leave the bathroom.
He felt strangely powerless to stop her.
She definitely had more will than he did right now.
He waited for her to leave, and shut the door.
Then he undressed and turned on the shower faucet. He didn’t bother to wait for the water to heat up, just stepped under the wide showerhead with its patterned, massaging jets.
He stood there, feeling like it was a sluicing off a whole layer of skin.
When the water heated up, it felt even better.
That was before he’d even bothered to look for soap.
It had to be the most heavenly shower he’d ever taken.
When Dags finally turned off the water, reluctantly, he realized Phoenix must have been in the bathroom again.
He’d been too stoned by the water pressure, and the hot water beating down on his skin, and the apricot scrub he’d found, and the shampoo that smelled like her, and the conditioner, and the “massage” setting on the shower head, to even notice her enter the room.
By the time he got out, he almost could have gone back to bed.
He knew the sheets were probably as dirty as he’d been though, which wasn’t appealing. Maybe he could go out on the deck, pass out on a deck chair.
She left him a clean pair of black pants and a dark blue T-shirt on the counter. She even left a pair of gray underwear on top of the pants, underwear that looked new.
He stared at the clothes warily.
He hoped like hell they weren’t Karver’s.
He was still staring at them in the steam-filled bathroom, when she spoke to him through the closed door.
“I hope the clothes are okay,” she said. “I had to guess at sizes. Well, Asia guessed, really, and Karver helped, being a guy. We were all basically playing charades with your height and build.” She paused, as if waiting. “I hope they’re okay?”
There was a silence.
“They’re fine,” he said, raising his voice slightly to speak through the door. “I mean… I haven’t tried them on yet, but they’re definitely fine. I’m sure they’ll fit fine. Thank you.”
He heard her walk away.
He hoped he’d reassured her, at least mildly.
He felt reassured, too, even though he told himself it was stupid. It definitely sounded like Phoenix bought him new clothes, that she hadn’t just raided her ex-boyfriend’s closet.
Toweling off with the clean towel she’d also left on the counter by the sink, he pulled on the boxer briefs, then the pants, then the T-shirt.
They all fit surprisingly well.
The pants hung down on his hips a little.
He ventured out to look for her, eventually finding her on the deck downstairs, sitting at a table outside, surrounded by potted palms with a light blue sun-shade overhead. A young woman who looked Vietnamese was pouring coffee in a giant coffee mug in front of Phoenix, who was stretched out in a tilted driftwood lounge chair, displaying part of her brown belly as she looked out over the ocean below the house.
The new housekeeper looked up at Dags, a question in her eyes, and he nodded gratefully.
“Thank you,” he said, as she poured him coffee in a second, equally giant mug, the same as Phoenix’s only pale blue instead of yellow.
He plunked down in the chair next to Phoenix, facing the ocean, and exhaled.
“Well, this is horrible,” he remarked.
She turned, grinning, and smacked him on the thigh. “I’m glad you feel better,” she said. “I really was going to have to do something drastic today, if you didn’t wake up.”
He nodded.
Truthfully, he still felt weak as hell.
He had to hope the coffee would help.
“You sure you should have that on an empty stomach?” she said, frowning at him as he took his first sip. “Food is coming. Really soon.”
The coffee tasted so good, he had to suppress a groan before he set the mug back on the driftwood table top.
“I’ll survive,” he assured her.
For a moment they only looked at one another.
Dags had another, difficult-to-suppress urge to touch her, to run his hands over her skin, especially her bare stomach. That time, it was almost more affection he craved than sex. He wanted to press his face against hers, pull her into his lap so he could wrap his arms around her. On one level, the intensity of the urge came out of nowhere. On another, the longing felt old⏤so old, he wasn’t sure he could bear another minute without at least taking her hand.
They were still looking at each other when a joyful bark pulled Dags out of his stare, turning his head towards the glass sliding door.
Steve McQueen bounded up to him, jumping up on his lap and promptly licking his face. Dags scratched behind his ears with his fingers as the dog’s whole body wriggled, he was wagging his tail so hard. He barked at Dags a few more times, registering a combination of his pleasure at seeing him and an almost audible disapproval around how long he’d been missing.
“Sorry, little dude,” Dags told him, now massaging his back with strong fingers. “Outside of my control, I promise you.”
Steve McQueen barked again, still sounding oddly both relieved and indignant.
He let Dags pet him and scratch him for a few minutes more, then he jumped down
and walked over to Phoenix for pets and attention from her.
Phoenix was still stroking his ears when Dags heard voices by the glass door, and turned. That time, Asia, Karver, and a twenty-something blond woman Dags didn’t recognize walked through the open sliding glass door.
Dags saw their faces when they all fell silent, staring at him.
Their open astonishment struck Dags as almost comical.
Asia was the first to snap out of it, breaking into a big grin.
She walked directly up to Dags and startled him by leaning down and wrapping her arms around him in a strong squeeze of a hug, kissing him on the cheek.
“He lives!” she crowed.
She straightened, planting her fists on her hips as she surveyed him critically. “Damn. You look pretty good, Angel-guy. A little pale. A little thinner than I remember.” Snorting, she added, “I suppose this means you want your dog back?”
Steve McQueen barked at her from the other side of the deck, wagging his tail, and Asia laughed.
“Just kidding, you furry goofball,” she told the dog good-naturedly. “Just remember, you have a back-up for when this idiot manages to get himself killed for real.”
Dags snorted, but when he glanced at Phoenix, she looked less than amused.
“Not funny, Asia.”
Karver walked around the table, along with the woman who had to be his new girlfriend. The girlfriend struck Dags as almost the quintessential California girl, with honey-blond hair, expensive-looking sunglasses, a fitted tank top cropped above a long, loose skirt, earrings with little blue stones in them, leather sandals, silver rings fitted with stones.
Somewhere between hippie and beachy, laid back and expensively made-up.
Even the casualness appeared to be a style choice as much as a personality trait.
The two of them pulled out more driftwood chairs, but theirs had their backs facing the ocean, directly blocking Dags’ view of the blue expanse past the cliff.
Karver looked him over, a faint wariness in his eyes.
Still, he looked less overtly hostile than Dags remembered.
Which was weird, really, since Karver now knew Dags kissed Phoenix while Karver and Phoenix were still dating.
Even as he thought it, Karver nodded to him in a semi-friendly way.
Bad Angel Page 14