I wanted to ask him about the FBI contact, but I didn’t dare bring it up in front of a room full of cops. Ian was among them. He didn’t say a word to me, however, so there really was a silver lining inside every dark cloud. I’d wondered.
The chaos that followed the incident rivaled that of an impromptu visit from the president. Streets were blocked off. Cars were searched. No idea why. News crews set up around the perimeter. And everyone within a five-mile radius was questioned ad nauseam.
“We need to go to that house thing.”
I turned toward Cookie. “The house thing?”
“The mansion. But only if you’re still up for it.”
She was trying to get my mind off everything. To distract me lest I become depressed and start a round of self-mutilation treatment. “Let’s go, then. We’re getting pedicures,” I said to Bobert in a lyrical, come-hither voice. “I’m pretty sure you want to join us.”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t,” he said, matching my singsong voice. He leaned in and took my hand. “But if you need anything, Janey…” He left the offer hanging in the air and a slip of paper nestled in my palm. After giving that hand a quick squeeze, he stood and stretched. “You girls have fun.”
We watched him go, and I put my head on Cookie’s shoulder. “I like him.”
“I do, too,” she said.
Francie’s voice broke into my musings. “Reyes! Are —? Is everything —?”
He strolled past her, ignored a scowling Ian, and made a beeline straight for me. At least he wasn’t glaring. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Cookie before taking hold of the hem of his shirt and leading him away from the melee amidst the scowls of Ian Jeffries. When we were in a relatively cop-free zone, I lifted my hand to his side. The side that had been soaked in blood.
He let me lay my hand on it, just barely, just enough to let him know what I would be referring to in my next question. He didn’t move but watched me with the intensity of a cobra.
“I should be asking you that. Are you okay? And Reyes, what the hell happened today?”
“You and your friend foiled an attempted robbery.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s what I saw.” He loomed over me. He’d showered and, from the feel of it, wrapped his wound.
I thought of what I’d said to him when time had stood still. Embarrassed, I lowered my head to nudge a piece of loose baseboard. “You didn’t see anything else? Or, maybe, hear anything else?”
“Like what?”
I still had my hand on his side, careful not to press. He reached out and hooked a finger into the belt loop on my jeans. It felt so natural, so fulfilling, to be there with him. To talk with him as if we did it every day. As if we’d been doing it every day for years. Not even the heat of Ian’s fury could penetrate the warmth I was getting from Reyes.
He inched closer. I saw his inch and raised him a three.
“What should I have heard?” he repeated.
“Nothing. It’s… dumb.” I gazed up at him, pleading. “But I saw the blood.” I grazed my thumb over his bandages. “What happened?” Could he have fought the angel? How would that even be possible? It wasn’t like he had a sword hanging from his belt. But it was getting harder and harder to deny the fact that he was shrouded in darkness. It cascaded off him. Pooled at his feet. And looked exactly like the black smoke that had taken the woman from the storeroom. That had stopped the angel from slicing me into bite-sized chunks.
I had so many questions. Possibly most important of all, why the hell had an angel, a celestial being, tried to kill me? That was wrong on so many levels.
“Please tell me what happened.”
A grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “You first.”
I dropped my hand and stepped back. I couldn’t. There was still a chance that I was as crazy as a soup sandwich, and I had no intention of spending the rest of my life locked in the mental ward of a hospital. Or, possibly worse, downing a cocktail of psych meds everyday.
He let go of my belt loop, then put his fingers under my chin to tilt my face toward his. But he didn’t say anything. He just perused. Studied. Ran his thumb over my mouth. Caused