Free Fallen Angels 03 - Envy by J.R. Ward

quietly.
    “As in a psychiatrist?”
    “Therapist. They can be very helpful.”
    “This from personal experience, Officer?”
    “As a matter of fact, yes.”
    He laughed in a hard burst. “Somehow I wouldn’t think you’re the type who needed one.”
    “Everybody has issues.”
    He knew he was being a bit of a shit, but he felt naked, and not in a good way. “So what’s one of yours.”
    “We’re not talking about me.”
    “Wel , I’m getting tired of being up onstage al by my little lonesome.” He polished off half a piece of toast in two bites. “Come on, Officer. Spil something about yourself.”
    “I’m an open book.”
    “Who needs a therapist?” When she didn’t respond, he leveled his stare at her. “Coward.”
    Eyes narrowing, she eased back and pushed her half-ful bowl away. He expected some witty retort. Or, even more likely, a smack-down.
    Instead, she reached into her pocket, took out a ten-dol ar bil , and put it between them. “I’l see you in the sergeant’s office.”
    With subtle grace, she scootched out, taking her coat, purse, and cel phone with her.
    Before she took off, Veck snagged her wrist. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
    She disengaged the hold by putting her phone in her bag. “See you shortly.”
    After she left, Veck pushed his own plate away, even though there was a good egg and a half left.
    Not even nine in the morning . . . and he’d already won the asshole-of-the-day prize. Fantastic—
    A draft passed over the back of his neck, prickling the hairs at his nape and making him crank around toward the door.
    A woman had come in, and she was as out of place as a Ming vase in the Target housewares department. As her perfume drifted over, and she swizzled out of her fur jacket, there was an audible pause in the diner’s fifty or so conversations. Then again, she’d just exposed some Pamela Anderson breasts to half the CPD.
    As Veck checked her out, he supposed he should have been attracted to her, but instead, that cold shaft tickling down his spine made him want to take out a gun and point it at her in self-defense.
    And how fucked up was that.
    Leaving a twenty of his own, he bailed on the rest of his breakfast and hit the door. Stepping outside, he stopped. Glanced around.
    The back of his neck was stil going, his instincts screaming, particularly as he glanced at the round windows of the diner. Someone was watching him.
    Maybe the chippie with the Hustler body, maybe someone else.
    But his instincts never lied.
    Good news was, it appeared he’d be getting his weapons back later this morning. So at least he could legal y protect himself again.
    As Jim pul ed into the Riverside Diner’s lot on his Harley, some guy on a sweet BMW bike tooled off with a roar.
    Adrian and Eddie were right behind him on their rides, and the three of them parked together in the far corner by the Hudson’s shore. As he dismounted and looked at the place Devina had named for a rendezvous, he thought, Wel , isn’t this special. He’d been at this very same dive with his first soul.
    Guess Caldwel was a hotbed of activity for the damned.
    Then again, maybe she just liked the java here and was going to tel him the soul in question was somewhere else.
    Heading over to the entrance, his boys were giving him the silent treatment—not a news flash on Eddie’s part, but a miracle on the other angel’s. No way that was going to last with Ad, though
    The diner was crowded, noisy, and smel ed like coffee and melted butter. Hel of a place for Devina to pick—

    And there she was, way to the left, sitting at a booth and facing the door with a shaft of sunlight pouring in through the window next to her. The warm yel ow rays il uminated her face perfectly, like she was about to be photographed, and he thought of the first time he’d seen her at that club, standing under a ceiling fixture. She’d been glowing then, too.
    Evil had never looked so hot, but unlike the other men, who were