by ERIN BEDFORD
I’ll never let go, Jack. I’ll never let go. Fuck you, Rose. He could have fit on that door.
Mandy grabbed me again, and I finally turned to her. “Mandy, Jack isn’t going to be of help to us. Jack’s dead … or will be.” I frowned and shook my head. “Still not a hundred percent sure on that part. But find Jack and find him now.”
12
Finally, back home, I had the day to myself. Or what was left of it. Mandy and Detective Eyebrows were going to search out the dead guy - shudder - and let me know what the next step was.
Not that I didn’t have enough on my mind already. Maybe being a consultant wasn’t such a good idea. Neither was doing these dishes.
I glared down at the bubbling soap making my fingers all wrinkled and pruny. I really needed to invest in a dishwasher.
Sadly, that requires getting a new apartment, something I was loath to do. I’d been in this tiny apartment since I’d graduated from college. It was all I could afford with what little money I had saved up during my student years. Leaving now would be sad.
But think of the dishes you wouldn’t have to wash, a little voice in my head coaxed.
That would be nice. No wrinkly fingers that remind me of old man balls. How did I know what they looked like? Don’t ask. Let’s just say don’t get drunk and Google. You’ll find some fucked up shit on the internet.
Once again though, I was back to square one. To have non-wrinkly hands, I would need to get a dishwasher. To get a dishwasher, I needed money. Money I wasn’t going to get on a bartender’s salary.
You could always do that thing.
What thing?
You know the psychic shop. Find some incense and some bangles, and you’re set.
Pfft. I’m not going to do that.
Why not? Could make us some good money. Maybe even better than the bar.
Because it would be ridiculous. I can see myself now, Madame Jane, let me tell your future. No, wait. That’s not right. No one would come to see a psychic named Jane. Now, Madame Patrice or Madame Eliza, those are solid psychic names.
I shook my head at my internal monologue, wondering how I ever thought I was sane. Saving me further insanity, my phone rang.
Mandy.
Wonder if she found Jack yet.
I wiped my soapy hands off on the back of my jeans and grabbed my phone. “What’s up, sweet cheeks?”
“Don’t call me that.” Mandy huffed into the phone. “Can’t you answer the phone like an adult? What if I’d been the captain or worse, your father?”
“I do check my I.D. before answering, you know.” Besides that one time with the captain earlier this morning but she didn’t need to know about that.
“Anyhow,” Mandy drew out. I could just see her rolling her eyes, her hand on her hip as she contemplated why we are friends. Believe me, I know. It’d happened before.
“Did you find Jack?”
Mandy sighed, the sound showing how tired she was already.
“I’ll take that as a no.” I leaned against the counter and crossed my arm under the one holding the phone.
“Doctor Marshall gave us the information he had on file, but it was wrong.” No surprise there. “Luckily, we looked him up in our system, and we have one Jack Adams with priors.”
“Oh really?” My brows raised in surprise. So, the guy actually existed. Well, I knew that. Gabriel wouldn’t have said what he had if good ol’ Jack was made up. I didn’t share my doubt with Mandy. Instead, I asked, “Is he our guy? Maybe there’s another Jack Adams. It’s not a very original name.”
“Well …” Clicking followed by tapping made me believe Mandy was on the computer. “He was arrested for assault and stalking. Apparently, he has quite a problem keeping girlfriends. There are five restraining orders against him, all from women.”
“So, Jack is more Jack the Ripper kind of Jack and not the Jack Dawson kind of Jack,” I muttered, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach.
“He hasn’t killed anyone. At least, that we know of.” Mandy tapped away on her side of the phone again. “We have an address for him, but it’s the same one Doctor Marshall had.”
“So, either Jack lied, or he moved,” I mused. I had a feeling it was the prior.
“Right. He has his mother listed as his emergency contact, so we’re gonna try there and see if we can find him. Maybe you could get with the spirits and find us an address?”
I knew what she really meant. Ask the angels if they can find our missing stalker. I understood Mandy couldn’t really say angels in the office. Not with Detective I-Believe-In-Real-Police-Work trailing her ass.
“You need to stop hanging out with O’Connor so much. Your sarcasm is showing.”
Mandy snorted. “No, I need to stop hanging out with you. I try to work as little as possible with him. So, if anyone is rubbing off on me, it is you.”
“Hey, I resent that,” I cried out, placing a hand on my heart as if she had hurt me. She couldn’t see it, but the emotion was real. “I could pretend everything is cupcakes and rainbows like you, but I’m aware that those rainbows are just light reflecting off the water and those cupcakes are full of dirt.”
“Such a romantic you are.” Mandy laughed. “I don’t know how some lucky guy hasn’t snatched you up yet.”
“Well, the celestial cock blockers would be one reason,” I grumbled. My vagina made its own cry of distress, demanding I pay attention to it. “I have cobwebs where a penis should be. Sagging boobs where a guy’s hands should be holding them up. Seriously, Mandy, I need cuppage!”
Mandy laughed until she snorted like a pig. “You are deranged.”
“No, just horny.” I quipped back and then as if I had said the magic word, Michael appeared in my living room. “I got to go, one of those spirits you want me to interrogate just showed up.”
“Behave,” Mandy warned. I could just see her wagging her finger at me through the phone.
“Yes, mom.” I hung up and turned my attention to Michael. “What’s up?”
Michael either didn’t hear me or ignored me. He glanced around my apartment, his eyes searching for something. It was a bit disturbing to see him walking through my couch and table.
“What are you looking for?” I tipped my head to the side my curiosity peeking with every move he made.
“The cock.”
My mouth dropped open in surprise, I choked out, “The what?”
Michael finally looked up at me, his face serious as the grave. “You said you have three cocks blocking you, but I don’t see any farm animals in here.”
Almost fainting from utter humiliation, I stuttered, “There are no chickens in my apartment.” I refused to call them cocks in front of him. The very thought of it made my face heat.
Curiosity covered his face, and if I hadn’t been wishing for the ground to swallow me whole, I’d think it was cute.
“But I clearly heard you.”
“I know,” I snapped and then forced myself to calm down. “I know what I said. It was a figure of speech. I don’t now, nor will I ever have chickens in my house unless they are fried.”
Still seemingly confused but accepting my answer, Michael nodded. “Very well. So, your friend has not found the stalker yet?”
“No, not yet.” I turned back to my dishes. I needed something to do other than wonder how much of my conversation with Mandy he’d overheard.
“I will ask Gabriel to see if he can get a clearer picture of where the man died.”
I nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”
There was silence for a moment, and then I felt his heat against my back causing me to stiffen. With my hands in the cooling water, the warmth of his breath brushed my neck and ear. When did he get so close?
“I have another question,” Michael murmured into my ear, his voice low and gravely. So damn sexy.
“Yeah?” I breathed, my heart palpitating in anticipation. Why am I getting so excited? He could be asking me something completely absurd, and here I
am soaking my panties from just the sound of his voice.
Unaware of my inner turmoil, Michael’s arms wrapped around me, and before you could say ‘hold ya, mama,’ he cupped my breast in his large palms. Or well, sort of. He wasn’t so much cupping them as holding them where my breasts were.
“W-what are you doing?” I gasped not understanding why I hadn’t shoved him away yet. The tingling in my breasts was causing my nipples to harden and who knew what I’d do when that happened.
His head leaned down, so he was looking over me. “I do not see the sagging you complained about. Am I doing the cuppage right?’
Blinking, I barely focused on what he asked. When I did, my body revolted against me, making my hand slip and pain to radiate through my finger. Michael promptly let go of me, something my breasts cried about, and waved for me to give him my hand.
Blood bubbled from where the single knife I owned had caught me. Grimacing at the sight of blood, I ignored him. “Fuck. I need a band-aid.”
Before I could get two steps away, Michael stepped in front of me. “Hold your finger out.” I gave him an incredulous look. “Just trust me, Jane.”
I did as he asked and in slow motion, I watched as he lifted my hand to his face and slid my finger into his mouth. My jaw dropped open and my eyes glazed in lust as he sucked on the injured finger. Each suck seemed to pulsate through my clit.
I could feel him! And oh my god. He’s sucking on my finger. An angel is sucking on my finger!
I tried to calm my inner freak out as Michael removed my finger from his mouth. The irritatingly delicious man seemed unaffected by what he had just done. He seemed almost clinical about the whole thing.
Unfair!
“There you are.” Michael lets me take my hand back unaware of the melted puddle of goo I’d become.
Holding my hand like it was some piece of priceless artwork, I stare in awe at the newly healed finger. It was like I’d never been cut!
“You can heal wounds with your mouth?” I asked, still in disbelief. “What are you a freaking vampire?” Before he could answer, I held my hand up, the one that had gotten hurt. “Am I going to get super powers in this hand now? Like some magical transference?”
“No.” Michael deadpanned.
“What about just this finger?” I held up my healed finger. “Like super strength? Or can it text as fast as lightning?” I zipped my finger around the air in front of me making a buzzing noise with my mouth.
“Not in the slightest.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Now, if you are done injuring yourself, I will be on my way. I’ll send Gabriel back to you if he finds anything.”
“Sure, thanks,” I said distracted by the awesome powers I could have acquired. After a moment, I glanced up and realized Michael was still there. “I thought you were leaving?”
“I am.” Michael huffed. “Or I’m trying to but ... I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” I stopped looking at my finger long enough to study him. “Why don’t you just poof away like you usually do?”
“Don’t you think I’m trying?” Michael scowled, clearly frustrated at his dilemma.
Circling around him, I tried to search for some reason why he’s stuck. “Maybe you need to recharge or something?”
“I’m not battery operated.” The archangel crossed his arms over his chest and growled. “This has never happened to me before.”
“Oh, I hear ya.” I waved off his annoyance. “One time I was in a hurry for class and my battery died in my car. I spent thirty minutes trying to get a jump. Maybe that’s what you need, a jump.”
And boy, would I like to jump him! Not in the battery sense. The sexual sense. No, down, girl. See what happens when you get a little bit of boob action and some finger sucking? All reason goes out the window, and you’re ready to fuck like it’s Mardi Gras.
“For the last time, I’m not a battery.” Michael snapped and stomped across the room, clearly a pacer when upset.
What happened next, I wished I’d had a camera for. I really did. I’d have won a million dollars for the best fail of the century, but of course, I was too busy staring at Michael’s ass as he walked away and then promptly stumbled over the table. His legs flipped up into the air as he tumbled over the couch and landed with a loud thud on the floor.
My hands came up to cover my mouth. My reaction was a mixture of horror, surprise, and laughter. I ended up letting out a half-scream-laugh that sounded like an animal’s cry for help.
Michael wasn’t any different. The angel just laid on the floor as I rushed to his side. His eyes were wide with shock, not seeming to know what happened or what to do next.
I was right with him there.
“I knew you guys were lying,” were the first words to come out of my mouth. Really, I needed to work on my filter. “Incorporeal, my fine ass.”
Michael slowly sat up, his hand going to his head where he winced. “Ow. I didn’t lie. We aren’t corporeal. In any sense. Only God lets us be solid, and that’s only after a weeks’ worth of paperwork.”
“Well, maybe you’re fallen,” I suggested.
Michael glared at me, and I instantly wished I could take it back. “Lucifer is fallen and isn’t corporeal, so that doesn’t even make sense,” he countered and started to get to his feet. His muscled bulged and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t drool a little bit at the sight of them.
Michael stood and started to pace again, this time being sure not to run into the couch. Sadly, my apartment being so small and he being so big, he didn’t have much to work with. I should have been worried. An angel having a meltdown could not be good. Not for me. Not for the world.
Had I somehow started the apocalypse?
After what seemed like forever, Michael spun around and pointed a finger at me. “You did this to me.”
“Me?” I put my hand to my chest, offended that he would even think I could have anything to do with it. “I don’t know how to upgrade my computer let alone turn an angel corporeal.”
“Yes, you and your finger.” He pointed at the finger he had just moments ago had sucked like a lollipop. The reminder still made my clit twitch.
“Hey, now.” I pointed said finger at his chest. “You’re the one who was all like, I got this and popped my finger in your mouth. I didn’t force you.”
Michael stroked his chin in thought, his anger cooling. “It must have been your blood.”
“My blood?”
“Yes, all angels can heal each other, but I wasn’t sure if I could heal you. I thought since you could feel me, I must be able to heal you. This was a good chance to test that out. It seems like I was correct but unaware of the side effects.”
“Side effects? From drinking my blood?” If I wasn't thinking of vampires before, I sure as hell was now. Magic healing, blood with magic powers, sounded like a preteen movie to me.
“The question now …” Michael paused and then sat down on the couch. Legs spread apart, he leaned on his knees his head hanging down. He smacked his lips and locked eyes with me. “… is how long will it last?”
“Who knows?” I shrugged. I sat down on the couch next to him, his body heat warming me differently than when he was incorporeal.
After a few minutes of thinking so hard my head started to hurt, I asked, “This is the first time you’ve been corporeal, right?” I beamed up at him. “Then you must have so many things you want to do.” I started to get excited at all the things he had to try. “There’s this great pizza place down the street you have to try. You can eat, can’t you? I mean, you have a solid form now,” I poked at his stomach which felt as hard and muscular as it had always looked but somehow touching it just made it different. Hotter.
“I believe I could eat,” Michael commented, smiling down at me.
“Then let’s go.” I jumped to my feet. “There are so many things you need to do before you go back to being all ghostly which, let’s be honest, could be any second.” I started to grab my purse, but
Michael’s hand caught me, dragging me back to the couch and into his lap. My hands immediately grabbed hold of his shirt, holding me to him. The smell of him assaulted my nose, making my panties even more uncomfortable.
“Jane,” Michael looked down at me, his eyes full of a hunger I had a feeling had nothing to do with pizza. “There’s only one thing I’m interested in doing right now.”
“Oh yeah?” I laughed hesitantly, trying not to notice the way he felt beneath my hands. “What’s that?”
“You.”
13
As I stared up into Michael’s sky-blue eyes, I had a brain fart. A complete total shut down. A brain dysfunction. Did they have little blue pills for that?
“Do you not wish to ‘ride me like a show pony?’” Michael looked down at me in his arms, his fingers curled around my thigh.
“Uh yeah.” My face flushed at his question. I had said that, hadn’t I? Sounded so much better back then when I didn’t have the option to touch him. Now, faced with his hard muscles and delicious scent, my body was on the edge of overdrive.
I stared at the skin beneath the collar of his shirt, my fingers itching to reveal more of it. As if reading my mind, Michael reached out and took my hand in his, pressing it to his chest. I watched in awe as my hand landed on the fuzzy material of his shirt instead of passing through him.
“Touch me,” Michael commanded. “I feel we don’t have much time.”
The reminder that he could turn incorporeal at any moment shook me out of my little impotent spell. Without a word, I shifted until I straddled his lap and ripped my shirt over my head. Michael’s eyes dropped down to my bra-clad chest, his hot gaze coloring my skin. Not wanting to lose my upward momentum, I slid my hands underneath the edge of Michael’s shirt, lifting it up and spreading my fingers out along the hard planes of his abs.
“Dear baby Jesus,” I muttered as I took the perfection of his body. I shook my head, trying not to drool. “It’s just not right, it’s like you’ve been photoshopped into perfection.”