Sins of the Angels

by Linda Poitevin

  Trent ahemmed again, the sound reaching out to set off the now-familiar quiver in her belly.

  Alex pulled the top file from the stack and flipped it open. She didn’t need anything from it, and couldn’t have read the words if she’d tried, but it gave her something to do. Something besides facing Jacob Trent. Or the sense of emptiness she’d battled in the last few hours at the idea of being without him.

  She scowled at the papers in front of her. She’d wanted to be rid of the man since the moment she’d met him. Now was not a good time to be having second thoughts.

  “Detective—” Trent began.

  Alex cut across his words. “I’m taking myself off the case.” She didn’t look up.

  “No.”

  Now she looked. And raised an eyebrow. Of all the responses she might have expected, that one wasn’t even on the list. “Excuse me?”

  “I told you I need your help.”

  “There are others—”

  “I’m not trying to protect others,” he growled. “I’m trying to protect you. And this hunt is damned difficult enough without you adding to my grief any more than you already have.”

  Alex gaped at him. “Your grief?” she hissed, aware of the many people within hearing distance. “How in the hell have I added to your grief?”

  Heat flashed through his gray eyes, reaching out to lick along her veins in a decidedly shocking manner, and then disappeared so fast that she had to have been wrong. Hoped to God she had been wrong, because matters were fucking complicated enough already.

  “You refused Seth’s company this morning.”

  “I was capable of driving myself.”

  “That’s not the point, and you know it. I told you—”

  “I know what you told me, Detective Trent. I told you I don’t need your protection. Or Benjamin’s. Once I take myself off the case, it will be a moot point anyway. I’ll be out of your hair and you can focus on finding the killer instead of whatever it is you think you’re doing for me.”

  Trent’s voice dropped to a harsh, angry snarl. “Do you really think you can sidestep him that easily? He doesn’t give a damn about the case. The rest of these people mean nothing to him. I doubt he’s even noticed them. It’s you he wants, and leaving the case won’t even slow him down.”

  “And I’m just supposed to take your word for that? What about the other victims? If the killer is after me like you say, then why kill so many others?”

  “To find you.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. He either knows me or he doesn’t. You can’t have it both ways.”

  “He didn’t know you at first. But once he saw you in the alley, he did. If I know him, he is stalking you even now.”

  “Do you?” she asked. “Know him?”

  The soul-deep anguish she had seen before was back, accompanied this time by a stark honesty. “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

  Alex went still. Stared at her partner. Tipping point. If she continued asking questions, she would be caught up in whatever world Trent inhabited. Might never extricate herself. Might never have another chance to walk away.

  “Jarvis! You want your five minutes or don’t you?” Roberts’s bellow reached across the office and thrust itself between them.

  For a long second, Alex couldn’t respond. Couldn’t look away from the very man she most wanted—needed—to avoid. Roberts called her name again. Drawing on a strength she hadn’t known she possessed, Alex forced herself to her feet and lifted her chin.

  “I’m taking myself off the case,” she repeated and, turning her back on Trent, she made her way to her staff inspector’s office.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  No, said Roberts. He didn’t look up from the papers he was signing.

  Consternation shafted through Alex. Son of a bitch, she wished she’d seen this coming. In all her agonizing over the decision to remove herself from the case, it hadn’t occurred to her that Roberts might say no—the same response Trent had given her.

  She scowled. What was this, a bloody conspiracy?

  “You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need this.”

  “I do know that.” Roberts laid aside his pen. “And I wish I could do it, Alex. But this case is too big and I need you too badly. Without a medical certificate, I simply can’t justify taking you off the file.”

  “You want me to see a shrink?”

  “If you’re finding things this difficult, maybe you should.” Her staff inspector studied her, linking his fingers behind his head and leaning back. “You’re sure you’re telling me everything? This doesn’t have something to do with Trent?”

  Alex looked away from her staff inspector’s too-perceptive eyes. It had everything to do with Trent, but she was damned if she’d say so. If Roberts thought she needed to see a shrink based on what she’d told him so far—that the case was dredging up too many memories and causing serious stress in her life—then she could just imagine what he’d think if she confessed the rest of it. One whisper of wings and otherworldly presences and he’d pull her off duty altogether and declare her unfit. Her career would never recover.

  Worse, she’d have no choice but to seek the help he only suggested now. The kind of help that required delving into her past, reliving it, and facing each and every one of the demons she’d spent a lifetime denying. The fingernails of Alex’s good hand drove so deep into her palm it was a wonder they didn’t scrape bone.

  “I’m sure,” she answered her staff inspector. “It’s not about Trent.”

  Roberts regarded her in tight-lipped silence for a long moment. Alex shifted in her seat.

  “Then I have to ask, Detective: do you think you’re a danger to yourself or anyone else?”

  Alex glowered. “I’m not about to go postal or do myself in, if that’s what you mean. I’m not that far gone.”

  “Like I said, I have to ask.”

  She put a hand to the back of her neck and kneaded the ache there. Gave her supervisor a weary nod. About to rise from her chair, she paused when he spoke again.

  “Alex—” Roberts broke off, fiddling with a pen on his desk. A furrow settled between his eyebrows. “For what it’s worth, you’re not the only one struggling with this file. I think we’ve all figured out this isn’t quite our ordinary, run-of-the-mill serial killer.”

  He paused, seeming to expect a response, but Alex said nothing. Roberts shook his head. “I really do need all the help I can get on this thing. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “Bring me a medical certificate and I’ll take you off the case. Until then—” He broke off as Bastion stuck his head into the office through the partially open door.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Staff, but have either of you seen Delaney kicking around anywhere?”

  “Not me.” Roberts raised an eyebrow at Alex.

  She shook her head. “Not since she dropped the flowers this morning. She headed for the elevators right after that.”

  “Something urgent?” Roberts asked.

  “Nah. Just following up on something. I’ll try her cell phone again.” About to withdraw, Bastion paused. “Oh, Jarvis, I’m supposed to tell you there’s a call holding for you. Your sister, I think.”

  The door closed.

  Roberts returned his attention to Alex. “Look, I know it’s not much, but if you think it might help, I can put you and Trent on the desk end of things. Maybe things won’t get to you quite as much if you don’t have to go out to the scenes.”

  A lump settled into Alex’s chest. That was it? She’d worked herself into a lather all night and most of the day for an offer of desk duty that included the partner she so desperately didn’t want? Was there no way to rid herself of Jacob Trent?

  She swallowed hard, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Face Trent across a desk all day, or sit beside him in a vehicle? View the murder scenes in person or go over the color photos in minute detail?

  Lose her mind slowly or just get it over with?

  “No desk duty,” she said. “Being coope
d up like that would definitely put me over the edge.”

  Roberts nodded. “Let me know if you change your mind. And when you get that appointment.”

  Alex pushed out of the chair and crossed to the door. Trent waylaid her just outside.

  “Well?” he asked.

  She favored him with a baleful glare. “You win.”

  “He refused?”

  “Outright, unless I produce a medical certificate attesting to the fact that I’m losing my mind.”

  Trent’s mouth tightened. “I’m sorry.”

  She snorted and began to walk away. “Right.”

  A hand on her shoulder stopped her, heavy and warm. Alex waited but didn’t turn back.

  Trent’s voice deepened. Roughened. Washed over her in a wave that drew her in, folded around her. “I am sorry, Alex. More than you’ll ever know.”

  She almost faced him then. Almost gave in to the compassion she heard, almost turned to him for the answers she had denied the night before … at least the ones she thought she could handle. But then something changed, shifted, and her lungs deflated with a tiny hiss.

  Wings, she thought. If I turn now, I’ll see wings again.

  And still she wavered. It would be so easy. Easier than continuing to fight, to deny what increasingly felt inevitable. She’d turn into that powerful chest, his arms would go around her, she’d feel his wings envelop her …

  Alex pulled away from her partner’s touch. “I have a call waiting,” she said.

  HOW COULD I?

  Aramael watched Alex cross to her desk, her steps jolting, out of sync. His stomach rolled at the thought of what he had just done; of what he had, for a split second, wanted to happen more than anything else in the world. A shudder ran through him.

  To open himself to a mortal like that—to deliberately set aside the veil that hid him from her; to wish for her to turn, to see him not just as a man, but as his true self, as an angel …

  The absolute wrongness was staggering.

  The regret that she hadn’t done so, indefensible.

  He drew a ragged breath. He was losing it, he thought with faint astonishment. Acting outside the parameters that guided his presence here on Earth; knowingly breaking the cardinal rule of noninterference with a mortal. How much further would this go? How much further would he let it go?

  He watched as Alex reached her desk and picked up the phone. Her gaze met his for the space of a heartbeat and then moved away, simultaneously filling his soul and leaving it barren. Aramael closed his eyes.

  No further, he thought. He could let it go no further. Somehow he had to find a way to regain his focus, his purpose. Had to find a way to finish this hunt and return to Heaven before he destroyed her.

  Before she destroyed him.

  “HEY, JEN,” ALEX said into the receiver. From the safety of her desk, she risked a peek at where she’d left Trent and found him watching her in a decidedly hostile—and wingless—manner. Her pulse skipped a beat.

  She realized her sister had stopped speaking. “Sorry. I wasn’t listening. What was that?”

  “I said,” replied her sister tersely, “when the hell were you planning to tell me you’d been hurt?”

  Hurt. Alex looked down at her bandaged arm. She’d all but forgotten the injury. A sign of healing, or one more indication of her lack of touch with reality?

  “I’m fine,” she assured Jen. “Just a scratch. How did you find out?”

  “Good God, when was the last time you read a newspaper? You were on the front page yesterday morning and I’ve been trying to reach you ever since. Don’t you ever check your voice mail?”

  Alex pulled a face and sat down. She sensed a lecture coming on; she might as well make herself comfortable for it. “It’s been a little busy around here.”

  She tugged her cell phone free of its holder and flipped it open. Shit, the damned thing was dead. No wonder it had been so quiet today. She opened her desk drawer and rummaged for the charging cord. Jen hadn’t said anything more and Alex paused. “Jen? You still there?”

  “I’m here.” Jen’s voice went soft. “Al—how are you holding up on this thing? Really.”

  Alex swallowed past an unexpected snag in her throat. “I’m doing okay. Not sleeping much, but neither is anyone else.”

  “What about the other stuff?”

  “Other stuff?”

  “What you wanted to talk about the other day. I wasn’t a very good listener. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine, Jen, don’t worry about it.”

  “But I am worried. You haven’t asked questions like that in more than twenty years. Something must have happened to trigger it now.”

  Alex looked to Trent, now standing in the conference room doorway and glaring at the victim board. You have no idea, she thought, but she answered, “It’s just the case, Jen. I’ve seen so many knifing victims in the last week, it’s bound to bring up some stuff I’d rather not remember.”

  Alex plugged in her cell phone, switched it back on, and set it on her desk, making a mental note to check her voice mail later and erase the multiple messages Jen had almost certainly left. From the corner of her eye, she saw Joly waving for her attention. She looked over at him and he held up the receiver and two fingers. She nodded. “Look, Jen, I have to go. I have another call.”

  “But—”

  “I’m fine, Jen. I’ll call you when I can—maybe you can feed me dinner one of these days. Give Nina a hug for me. Love you.” With no small relief, Alex reached out and punched the button for line two of the office phone. “Homicide. Detective Jarvis.”

  “Have you missed her yet?” a man’s voice asked.

  Alex frowned. “Missed who? Who is this?”

  “One of your own is gone, and you haven’t even noticed.” He tsked. “I’m disappointed, Naphil. I thought you would be at least slightly more astute than other mortals. That something of the divine might have survived in you.”

  Naphil. She’d heard that word before. In her kitchen. Spoken by a winged Trent to a purple-robed woman. Alex’s initial confusion gave way to cold, certain instinct and her heart kicked against her ribs. She whirled in her chair and snapped her fingers for Joly’s attention, pointing to her phone. His eyes widened a fraction and then he nodded, reaching for his receiver, understanding she needed a trace on the line. His partner stood and jogged across to Roberts’s office, banging on the window for the staff inspector’s attention.

  Alex steadied herself and returned to the conversation. “I’m sorry I disappointed you—”

  “No matter. I’m sure I’ll still find what I need in you. The question is how I’m going to get to you. Christine was kind enough to provide me with your details, but I still have to find a way past him.”

  “Get to me?” Christine? How the hell does he know Christine? Her throat dry, Alex scanned the office for Trent. She saw him on the far side of the room, striding toward her, and quailed from the fury that told her he knew who was on the other end of the line.

  “So he hasn’t told you. Then I wonder what it is that draws you to him, that makes you accept him into your life?” The voice took on a musing tone. “If you don’t look to him for protection, then what—Oh, my. Really? This is an unexpected bonus, especially if he reciprocates.” The voice sharpened. “Does he?”

  Trent was halfway to her, fiery wings unfurling in his wake.

  “Does he what?” Alex’s gaze locked with her partner. If I’m to protect Alex …

  “No, of course he won’t have said anything. It’s utterly forbidden. I’ll tell you what. When you do find her, when you see what I’ve done to her and what I’m going to do to you, make sure he goes with you. I’ll be there, watching, so that I might judge for myself. Can you do that for me, Naphil?”

  Trent reached her desk, focused, intent, every inch a predator. A winged hunter. He held out his hand for the phone and Alex tightened her grip on the receiver. The conversation had come full circle and she could not end it n
ow.

  “When I find who?” she whispered, knowing. Dreading.

  “The lovely Christine, of course.”

  The line went dead.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Alex left Roberts cursing the tech support guy in his office and walked across to where Trent had all but paced a trench into the floor by the file room. His body stilled when he saw her coming, but the energy poured off him in waves. Raw, harsh, chaotic. Thick enough that, as Alex drew nearer, it took every ounce of willpower to keep moving toward him, every step feeling as if she drew a foot up from half-set concrete.

  “Are you all right?” she asked when she reached him.

  He stared at her, his hands on his hips, jacket shoved back. Surprise glinted from his turbulent eyes and for a breath, the energy around him edged down a notch.

  It surged back up again immediately.

  “I didn’t feel him,” he grated. “Not even a whisper. I have never not felt my prey.”

  Prey. Alex looked away and, with an effort, managed not to turn tail and run. She nodded toward the empty file room beside them. “Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

  Again the energy subsided. This time it stayed that way, still a moving, almost living force between them, but diminished. Trent regarded her wordlessly, then nodded and followed her into the room. Alex closed the door.

  “The tape of the conversation is pure static,” she said without preamble, “and the trace was useless. Christine’s vehicle is still in the parking lot, she isn’t answering her cell phone, and she’s not at her apartment. How do we find her?”

  Trent expelled a blast of air and started pacing again. “I don’t know. I told you, I can’t—”

  “Feel him,” Alex interrupted. “I get that. But you know him. You know how he operates, how he thinks. That makes you our best chance for finding him. And her.”

  Trent stopped in front of her. “You’re different,” he announced. “Something has changed.”

  Alex looked away. “I don’t know what you mean.”