Death Takes Wing (17 page)

“Exactly what I mean.”

“No way.  Not on the angelus side,” he proclaimed as he shook his head at her preposterous statement.

She tipped her head to the right and stared at him, making him uncomfortable enough to take a half-step back.  “How can you be so sure?  It happens in the human world often enough.  A good cop gone bad.  FBI agent taking a bribe.”

He looked at her, unsure.  “Things like that happen in your world.  Your world, where people don’t have to live with each other more than a few decades.  In the angelus world, good is good.  An Enforcer going bad?  I’ve never heard of it happening.  Remember when we talked about the angelus being about the greater good?  Well, this is part of it.”

“So there aren’t any evil angelus?” she said doubtfully.

“That’s not what I said,” he stated, emphasizing with a hand slapped on the table, the harsh sound startling Amalia.

She stared at him, trying to keep him from prickling her temper.  “Okay, so there aren’t any good guys that turn bad.  For whatever reason.  Once you pick a side, you’re stuck?”

He nodded, and then reconsidered.  “Not exactly.  But an Enforcer is the ultimate good.  We uphold all the laws that make up angelus society.  It’s up to us to make sure their followed.”

“So what’s stopping them from going bad?  What’s stopping you from going bad?”

He shook his head.  “Straw man,” he stated drily.  “Execution, for one.”

There was a sudden thud from behind them, startling a squeak out of her.  She whirled around and found Aleks uprighting a chair.

“Sorry,” he muttered.  “I tripped over the damn dog.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Gabriel.  “So, you think it’s one of the baddies trying to intimidate me.”

“Who else would it be?” he asked with a hint of humor in his eyes.  “Aleks?”

She shook her head with a laugh.  “Fine.  So we really need to watch my back.”

“Well,” he said slowly, “you have been attacked once.  Maybe we need to make sure you have a broken bottle on hand?”

“How about a Glock?” she asked with a wry twist of her lips, glad to see the surprise dance in Gabriel’s gray eyes.

“That would probably work,” he said, a smile teasing itself from his lips.  “So, where is your gun?”

“Upstairs.  In my bag,” she said after a moment of silence.

“Of course it is,” Gabriel said with a wry smile.  “Just try not to shoot me.”

She laughed, letting the tension leave her body, “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try not to.  Anyone else, though,” she added, staring at Aleks out of the corner of her eyes, “anyone else is fair game.  Especially if they’re part of this mes.”

She didn’t think she imagined Aleks narrowing his eyes, nor the tightening of his facial muscles.  Something was definitely up with him.  She’d have to try a different approach with Gabriel.  If not Gabriel, maybe Matt would listen?

Gabriel shook his head and sat back down, going back to the pictures she’d taken.

She sat down next to him and tipped her chair back a little further and tucked her toes under his thigh.  His nice, warm thigh, she thought.  He jumped a little and stared at her feet before turning his gaze towards her face. With a look that clearly said how
much he appreciated the feet under his leg, he glared at her. 

“Bloody hell woman, why don’t you just put a block of ice under my leg next time?  It’d probably be warmer. Now that part of my leg is numb,” he grumbled, trying to shift away from her cold feet as he reached down and rubbed his leg.

She feigned a look of confusion and ignored his glare, following him with her toes as he tried to wiggle away.  “I just put my feet there…you’re so warm, I didn’t think you’d mind.  And I seriously doubt that they were cold enough to numb your leg.”  She paused, considering.  “But if they were, maybe I could get a part-time job.  Just call me old ice-cube feet.  After I’ve washed them, of course.  Unless it’s a drink for someone I don’t like.  Then it’s definitely unwashed ice-cube feet.”

He dropped the glare with a shake of his head and smiled.

Seeing Lucy parked on his feet, she asked, “so how do we track him down?  Her boyfriend, I mean?”

“That’s what I’m asking myself.  I’ve used up all the contacts I have, and they have no idea who he is, or where he lives.”  Gabriel continued, “I sent a picture of the boyfriend with Aleks.  Seeing as the boyfriend is supposedly a doctor, hopefully Aleks’ contact will be able to help us.  We should find out something later today, I hope.”  He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated.

“Not that it helped,” Aleks stated blandly.  “I have no idea who it is, and I doubt my contacts will.”

“But there’s a chance, right?” Amalia replied.

“A small chance,” Aleks said dismissively.  “I don’t think he was an actual doctor, which doesn’t really narrow anything down.  The opposite, in fact.”

“Ah,” Amalia said, disappointed.

Something niggled inside Gabriel, some errant detail he was missing, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.  He shook off the feeling when Amalia asked about the boyfriend.  He silently shook his head, and then ruffled his wings as he looked at the clock, frustrated that they weren’t further into the investigation as he’d hope to be.  Best be patient, he thought sourly, as it was going to take a lot longer to solve it.  “I’m going to bed.  I suggest you do the same, as tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to work the rampant curls into a semblance of decency.  Utterly failing, she ignored the frizzy results of her ministrations and focused on the task at hand.  Her stomach grumbled, and she leaned back in the seat, thumping her head against the soft headrest.  That would be getting a
real
breakfast, she thought to herself.  She stared at the pop-tart he’d handed her as he rushed them out the door the minute the sun broke through the haze of darkness.

Upset that he’d woken her from one hell of a dream, involving him, a can of whipped cream and silk sheets, she glared at him from the passenger seat.  He just looked back at her, not wavering in his gaze.  She narrowed her eyes at him.

He looked at the pop tart. “You’re not going to eat it?”

“It’s cold.  You didn’t even warm it up first,” she replied petulantly. 

Apparently, he thought, she’d been spoiled by yesterday’s feast, if this attitude was any indication.  Not his problem.  She knew they’d have to get up early.  Although, that might not have been the problem, judging by the lustful expression she’d had on her face as he woke her up. 

“If you aren’t going to eat it, I will,” he said as he took it from her and proceeded to eat half of it in one bite.

She sighed and brushed the remains of the Pop-tart off her hands. “So what am I having for breakfast, then?”

He handed her the Snicker’s she’d stuck in the glove box yesterday. “Happy breakfast,” he said, giving a mocking salute with the remains of the offending pastry.

Narrowing her eyes at him again, she stuck her tongue out.  It made her feel childish, but it relieved some of the stress.  Or maybe that was the Snickers.  Definitely the Snickers, she decided, as she washed it down with the remains of yesterday’s Mountain Dew.  Nothing better than sugar upon sugar to get her going so early in the morning.  At least, according to Morgan, who regularly survived on such a diet on a daily basis.  Not to mention the excellent sugar high she could feel brewing, simmering just under her skin like someone had dumped a can of writhing ants down her shirt.

Or maybe, as she was stuck in a small car with a rather large, imposing driver, that wasn’t such a good thing…oh well, she decided, it was his fault for not having given her a warm pop-tart.  That would have been a much better breakfast.  Definitely not so much sugar.  If she didn’t eat the frosting.  Which she would have, she decided.  The frosting was the best
part of a pop-tart.  An integral part, she told herself as she licked the melted chocolate off her fingers.

She stretched out, and tried to think of something to do in the car to keep herself amused.  He’d immediately vetoed her first idea of playing show tunes.  Which she didn’t understand, as he seemed like a show tunes kind of person.  Not the gay kind, she amended, but just a guy who’d appreciate show tunes.  But, alas, he wasn’t.  So he wasn’t perfect, she thought.

He was the “Joy Division, Green Day, Bach, Aerosmith” kind of man.  All were good musicians, but not to her taste.  More to Sam’s taste.  Sobering at the thought of Sam, she stared out the window, watching the sun and clouds create shadows on the road.

So the interior of the car was silent for the time being, as he refused to listen to show tunes, Euro-pop or Linkin Park, and she steadfastly refused to listen to any of his kind of music.  She didn’t think that was fair, as she hated riding in a quiet car, but it was his car…it wasn’t like he would let them take her car, and he wouldn’t let her drive his.  Or, even if he did let them, he couldn’t wedge himself in the car…unless it was in the backseat, which she couldn’t see him allowing.

“Are you all right?” he cautiously asked her, noticing the bemused look on her face.  It went away as she looked at him.

“Just thinking,” she replied, coming back to reality with a start that made him snicker.

“About what?”  He asked, genuinely curious as to what caused the dazed look on her face.

“Music,” she answered.  “You don’t like my music, and I don’t like your music and I hate riding in a quiet car, so I’m on a stream-of-conscious thought…   Not to mention, I had a Snickers for breakfast, and half of a two-liter of Mountain Dew to wash it down.  I’m on the verge of a serious sugar buzz.  I hope we’re going to do something physical.  Soon.  Otherwise, you’re going to have to deal with ADHD girl.”

“Oh, I think there’s several physical things we can do that could…burn…off your extra energy,” he purred seductively, casting her a sultry look.

She gulped air as she thought about her fantasies and dream involving the dark angelus.  She arched a well groomed eyebrow at him.  “I seriously doubt there’s enough room in this car, especially with your wings, to – accommodate – any type of
that
activity.”

He laughed.  “All right, you’re probably right on that.  So, I’m curious about something.”

“About what?” she asked, her own curiosity piqued.  So far, she’d been the one asking all the questions.  It’d be quite refreshing to find that he had some of his own.

He glanced at her and smiled.  “So, you’ve made it very apparent that you aren’t afraid of me.”

She echoed his laugh.  “That wasn’t a question.  And, no, I’m not afraid of you.”

“So,” he said with a pause, “what
are
you afraid of?”

“Not too much,” said, curls bouncing around her shoulders as he hit a pothole, “since I had to get over most of my fears when I was in the force.  I’m afraid of snakes.  And spiders.  Especially spiders.  The big ones.  They freak me out.  Are you saying they don’t freak you out?  Because they freak me out.  Completely.  Seriously, they do.”

He gaped at her, not realizing just how long she could speak without breathing.  “You were serious about ADHD girl, weren’t you?”

She empathetically nodded her head, hair flying around the front of the car, some resting on his wings.  “Totally serious.  I warned you.  I so warned you.”

He peered at her out of the corner of his eyes, almost afraid to provoke her.  “Maybe I should have you run a few laps around the car?  While going down the road at a slow pace?”

She rewarded his response with a glare and silently bounced in her seat.  “Yes, because running me over with a car is a
great
way to get rid of some of my energy.”

“Hey,” he said defensively, “I didn’t say anything about running you over.”

“No, you didn’t,” she replied, smirking, but still bouncing, “But having me run around your car while going down the road?  Can we say ‘oncoming traffic’?”

He laughed, “Oh, well, there is that.  So, you don’t want to ride in a silent car?  What, is our conversation not good enough for you anymore?  Do my words bore you?”  He pretended to pout, which made her grin.

She giggled and leaned against the door, quickly tapping her feet on the floorboard.  “I didn’t say that, but I’m in the mood for some music, and face it, we haven’t had much to say since
you
took my breakfast.  I mean, aside from you finding out what I’m afraid of.  And now I’m afraid that you’ll use that against me.  Which you’d better not do.”

“Well, it’s not like you were going to eat it,” he defended, a smile on his lips and a hint of fang peeking out.

“That’s not the point, bully” she pointed out.  “Anyway, if you can find a subject we haven’t discussed, I
might
let the music thing slide.”

He paused again before saying, “are you ready for this?”

The change from the lighthearted subject to the future made her frown.  “As ready as I’m going to be.  I’m doing this because I
have
to find Sam.  I can’t let something happen to her. I just can’t,” she said with a
sigh.  She looked at him.  “You know how long it’s been since I’ve done something like this?”