Angel in Training (The Louisiangel Series, Book One) (8 page)

I neared the fleet of Yukons and pressed the
button on the central locking. The buildings could be kept
unlocked, but cars as expensive as this would definitely include an
auto-lock device and an immobilizer. Two cars along the lights
flashed at me.

Back in my previous life I was used to
driving an old Jeep, so the height wasn’t an issue for me. The
amount of buttons and options in the car were a little overwhelming
though, and I was tempted to pull the handbook out and give it a
once over. However, the thought of being spotted by any one of the
males I lived with soon put a stop to that idea.

I started the car and glanced at the
dashboard. It was only 9pm so there was still a good chance that I
should be able to find Joshua and that he should still be awake. I
leaned over and fiddled with the radio, finding a station that
played the current hits.

After locating the control for the gates, I
backed out and set off into New Orleans. I wasn’t sure where I was
headed. I had contemplated walking down Bourbon Street first to
check out the bars in case Joshua was there, but my gut was telling
me a car ride was in order, otherwise it would be a very long
walk.

I wasn’t really paying much attention to
where I was going, only on what the traffic in front of me was
doing, as I sang along to a song I knew. As such, I was a little
surprised when I found myself outside the police station I had been
in that morning.

I found a spot to park and pulled over,
staring up at the gray building. Great: he had been arrested
again.

I jumped out of the car and crossed the road,
heading for the visitors entrance. Whereas earlier today, it had
been a young woman on the front desk, it was now a bored looking
man. Give it a couple of hours and I bet he would be busier.

I walked over and gave him my best smile.
“Hi,” I beamed. “I know it’s late, but I was hoping I could visit
Joshua Walsh?”

The man gave me the once over and frowned.
“Josh?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” I pressed,
keeping my expression pleasant.

“Take a seat,” he sighed, before disappearing
into the back.

I wandered over to the waiting area, but
instead of sitting, studied the collection of wanted posters on the
wall. There were far too many for my liking.

I knew he was behind me before he spoke, and
I turned. I had been expecting someone to come to take me to the
cells or something – not him to be standing there, arms folded,
staring at me. ‘Oh!” I exclaimed, dumbly. “I wasn’t expecting to
see you so easily.”

He gave me a confused look. “Yet you came to
the precinct?”

I took a deep breath. “I wanted to come and
talk to you about this morning. I didn’t mean for you to be
arrested.” I peered past him at the guy behind the reception desk.
He was leaning forward, trying to hear what was being said. “Is
there somewhere more private we can go?”

Joshua glanced over his
shoulder. When he turned back to me, he sighed and nodded. “I’m
going for a walk. Tell Leon that if he needs me, I have my phone,”
he told the officer.

I followed him out of the precinct in
confusion. “They just let you walk out of there?” I blurted out as
we moved onto the sidewalk.

He turned his head, giving me a strange look.
“Yes,” he responded. “I’m not tied to the desk during my shift, you
know?”

My mouth dropped open. “You’re a cop?”

“Detective,” he corrected, indicating to his
clothing. He was in a similar outfit to what I had last seen him
in. Dark jeans and a black dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up and
the top two buttons undone.

“But you barely look old enough to drink!” I
told him. “How can you possibly be old enough to be detective?”

His eyes narrowed and he looked offended.
“I’m nearly twenty-five, so yes I am old enough to drink.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” I apologized. I ran my
hand through my hair as I stared up at him in bewilderment. “But
even so, I didn’t think anyone could be that young and be a
detective?”

I was trying to be more diplomatic but when
we continued walking in silence, I thought I had offended him
again. Thankfully, he eventually sighed. “My dad was a lieutenant
here. Before he died, he helped get me into the Academy. When I
graduated the new lieutenant told me about a scheme: an advanced
training program. I have another nine months on probation, and then
I’m a fully-fledged homicide detective.”

I gave him another sideways glance and
frowned. “I’d never have guessed.”

He pulled a face. “No, I suppose with last
night’s behavior, that’s hardly surprising.”

“This morning,” I corrected him. “The sun was
definitely up when we got arrested.”

He stopped suddenly and turned, his hand
running through his hair. “Look, about that. I don’t normally act
like that.”

“That’s good to know,” I agreed.

“Yeah,” he sighed, resuming the walking. “I
knocked back a few too many last night,” he glanced back down at
me. “Although, I was sure you got a black eye out of the whole
ordeal.”

I did. Only it healed while I napped. “Do you
have time for a drink?” I asked him, taking a page out of Michael's
book and avoiding the question. “And I don’t mean hair of the dog,”
I quickly added.

His lip quirked up into a smirk. “Are you
still hitting on me?”

“No!” I objected, flushing. “I - I just need
to talk to you,” I spluttered.

He laughed, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m just
teasing, darlin’.”

We ended up in small coffee shop, just up the
street from the precinct. It was quiet in there and we got a booth
opposite the counter. “So what’s the matter?” Joshua asked me when
we both had our coffees. I looked up and found him waiting,
impatiently.

“You didn’t take this too well when I tried
to tell you last night,” I muttered, adding extra sugar to the
cup.

“Well, if it helps, the only thing I really
remember is being surprised that you knew my name.”

My eyes flicked up to meet his. I had been
dreading him mentioning something about trying to kiss me, but
somehow this was worse. Given that I was never going to have a
relationship, ever, it shouldn’t have bothered of me, but I
couldn’t help feel a little crushed that I wasn’t a little more
memorable.

Whilst waiting for my response, he quirked an
eyebrow at me. I ignored the fact the action sent my heart pounding
and instead carefully placed my spoon on the table. “My name is
Angel,” I told him, carefully. “Angel Connors.” I stopped, chewing
on my lower lip as I tried to work out how to continue. Telling him
I was an angel last night hadn’t exactly turned out well. “I’m
supposed to help you,” I finally told him.

“You have some information on a case?” he
asked.

I shook my head. “Not exactly.” I sat back in
my seat and shrugged. “You know, there isn’t actually any easy way
to tell you this, so I’m just going to tell you and hope you handle
it a little better than last night.”

“This morning,” he corrected me, a corner of
his mouth quirking up into a half smile.

“
I’m an angel,” I told him.
“Specifically,
your
Guardian
Angel.”

There was a moment of silence while I held my
breath, and then he burst out laughing. “Are you still drunk?” he
asked me, between the laughs.

“I wish I was,” I muttered, staring down at
my hands which I had clasped around the cup in front of me.
“Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to drink. It’s one of the
rules.”

“There are rules?” he asked, still
laughing.

“Yeah,” I told him hotly. “And they’re not
funny. They suck.”

He cleared his throat and managed to control
the laughter. “Enlighten me.”

“No drinking, no drugs, no sex-”

He cut me off with another laugh. “That’s not
an angel. That’s a nun.”

I was living in an old convent, so I may as
well be. Not that I could tell him that.

“Did Leon put you up to this?” he asked,
peering around me to see who was in the bar. “To make up for
getting you arrested?”

“I wasn’t put up to do this,” I told him, my
tone turning icy. “It’s my job and we’re both stuck with it.”

“You do realize there’s no such thing as
angels, don’t you?” he asked, looking at me as though I was seven
shades of crazy.

“That’s what I used to think,” I sighed.

“So what changed your mind?” he asked.

I quickly shook my head. “You wouldn’t
believe me.” I still wasn’t sure I had changed my mind on my
beliefs. Honestly, at this point, I was still willing to accept
this was a very bad alcohol induced dream – albeit a very vivid
one.

“Try me?” he suggested.

Stop it!
My mind was quickly taking that one
somewhere I shouldn’t. I shook my head – both at him, and my
thoughts. “If you don’t believe in angels, you’re not going to
believe this. I’ll save myself...” I trailed off as a ringing
began. “Can you hear that?” I asked Joshua.

Joshua stared blankly at me. “Hear what?”

“The ringing? Is that your phone?”

“I can’t hear anything,” he told me, now
looking at me like I had gone mad. Which was as entirely possible
as alcoholic dreams.

I chose to ignore the ringing. “Why don’t you
believe in angels?” I asked him chewing at my lower lip.

“Why didn’t you?” he returned, reaching for
his coffee.

“Too much crap in the world,” I muttered.
That was one way of describing it.

“
My thoughts exactly,” he returned quietly.
His eyes were saying more, but I didn’t know him well enough to
read them yet. He took a sip of his coffee, never taking his gaze
off me. I wasn’t going to push it, but I also wasn’t sure how I was
going to convince him otherwise. It was only death that had
(eventually) changed my mind, and I still wasn’t sure how convinced
of it all
I
was.

“Why would I need a guardian angel?” Joshua
asked me, breaking my thoughts.

“Maybe last night might be a good clue?” I
suggested, unable to keep from smiling. The smile quickly turned
into a grimace as the ringing got louder.

“Are you alright?” Joshua asked me, looking a
little concerned.

“Are you sure you can’t hear ringing?” I
asked him, looking around for its source.

“I hear the Rolling Stones,” he told me.

“I don’t mean the music that’s playing,” I
frowned. I shook my head, trying to clear it of the ringing.
“You’re important,” I sighed, returning to the matter at hand.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

“That’s why you need a guardian angel. You’re
important,” I explained. “I don’t know what you’ve done or what
you’re going to do, but I have been told that you’re my
responsibility.”

“You?” he asked, looking at me like I wasn’t
going to be able to protect him from a rainstorm. “You certainly
don’t look like you’re old enough to drink. Have you even graduated
college yet?”

“You may have been a little preoccupied with
fighting last night, but while you were taking on one college guy,
I had thrown the others across the room,” I snapped at him,
irritably.

“Of course you did,” he agreed, giving me a
truly patronizing smile, which I would dearly have loved to wipe
off his face. Then maybe kissed it better... my mind was delving
into places it shouldn’t again. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty,” I admitted, scowling as he
pulled a face. “I’m not that young.”

I could hear the ringing again, this time
accompanied by a bleeping. This time, the bleeping
was
Joshua’s phone. He pulled it
out of his pocket and quickly read the message. “I need to go,” he
told me, shortly. He drank the rest of his coffee and slipped out
of the booth, leaving me wondering if that had gone well or
horribly wrong.

I wasn’t able to ponder it for long. The
ringing was becoming incessant and I could barely hear myself think
over the top of it. I abandoned the remains of my coffee and left
the cafe. The air was a fraction cooler, but still just as humid.
Despite the fact I was heading away from the cafe and towards my
car, the ringing was still just as loud.

By the time I got back to the convent, my
head felt like a jack hammer had taken up residence in my head and
I was desperately hoping that there were some painkillers in the
building somewhere.

Cupid was back on the front desk and he
greeted me with a frown when I walked in. “Where have you been?
Michael has been calling you for hours.”

“I don’t have a phone,” I pointed out, even
as I patted my pockets just to check I hadn’t missed anything.

“He doesn’t use a phone,” Cupid informed me.
“Don't tell me you can’t hear the bells?”

My mouth fell open. “That’s
him
? My head is
pounding.”

Cupid leaned over to take the car keys off
me, dropping them back in the drawer. Before he closed it, he
pulled out a small tube of ibuprofen. “Take these,” he sighed,
handing them over.

I took them off him and headed for the
cypress staircase. By the time I had arrived at Michael’s door I
had already taken two of the painkillers, without waiting for
water. I knocked on the door, and the ringing suddenly stopped.
Without waiting for a response, I stormed in, glaring at the
archangel. “It’s the twenty-first century,” I told him. “These days
we use things called phones.”

“You’re late,” he told me, giving me a
disapproving look. “Now we must hurry.” He stepped out from behind
his desk and walked up to me. “This is going to be
disconcerting.”

He took my hand. He was right – it was
disconcerting. It also wasn’t what he was referring to. There was a
sensation of being unable to breathe, like someone was pouring
water over my head. It was followed by the room spinning, and then
we weren’t in his room anymore.