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

staring over the rims of their mugs and al but drooling like dogs, he knew what she real y was—and he wasn’t so distracted by the slipcover that he didn’t notice she threw no shadow: As bright as the il umination that struck her was, there was no dark outline on the tabletop or the Naugahyde beside her.
    For a split second, he had an image of the two of them together from the night before. He’d tried to fuck her from behind on that table, but she’d insisted on doing it face-to-face. Frankly, he’d been surprised that he could get it up, but anger had a way of making him hard. At least with her.
    As he’d departed that sweaty, rough scene, he’d looked around at her wal s, imagining Sissy stuck in the tangle of the damned. He prayed his girl couldn’t see out of it. God, to think she might have . . .
    But enough of that. Coming up to Devina, he put a block on any thoughts of Sissy or sex with the enemy or even the game itself.
    “So who is it?” he said.
    The demon peered over the top of her Caldwell Courier Journal , her black eyes doing a quick circuit of his body and making him want to take another shower—this time with a belt sander.
    “Wel , good morning, Jim. Won’t you sit down with me.”
    “No goddamn way.”
    The guy in the booth in front of her glared over his shoulder. Like he didn’t approve of Jim’s tone or language around a lady.
    She only looks like one, buddy, Jim thought.
    Devina put the paper down, and went back to her buttermilk pancakes and her coffee. “Do you have a pen?”
    “Do not fuck with me.”
    “Little late for that. Pen?”
    As some people tried to get past, Jim and the boys had to turn sideways while Eddie outed a Paper Mate something or other and handed it over.
    Devina uncapped the thing with her long, manicured hands. And then she folded the paper to the crossword puzzle.
    “What’s a five-letter word for—”
    “Damn it, Devina, cut—”
    “—antagonist.”
    “—the shit.”
    “Actual y, Jim, ‘the shit’ is seven letters. Although I am, aren’t I.” Devina began careful y fil ing in a word. “I believe ‘enemy’ is the word I’m looking for.
    And you’re either sitting down with me—alone—or you’re going to stand there until your legs rot off and you fal over in the aisle.”
    More with the careful printing. Wonder if she was working on another word for “pain in the ass.”
    Jim glanced at his boys. “I’l be right out.”
    font size="3">“Good-bye, Adrian,” Devina said, with a wave. “I’l see you soon, though—I’m quite sure.”
    The demon didn’t say anything to Eddie. Then again, she liked to get a rise out of people, and Eddie was as unleavened as matzo.
    Which Jim supposed put him and Adrian in the hotcross-bun department.
    As the two angels took off, Jim slid into the booth. “So.”
    “Would you care for some breakfast?”
    “Who is it, Devina.”
    “I hate to eat alone.”
    “You could hold your breath until I join you—how about that.”
    Her black eyes became direct. “Must we fight.”
    At that, he had to honestly laugh. “It’s the reason we’re here, baby.”
    She smiled a little. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you do that.”
    Jim cut the sound right off as a waitress came over with a coffeepot. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
    “He’l have coffee and the waffles.”
    When the waitress looked at him like, Come on, make up your damn mind , he shrugged and let it go.
    After they were alone again, Devina just went back to her puzzle.
    “You can’t have a shot with me unless you get talking.”
    There was a pause, as if the demon were thinking of some way to prolong the meeting. Eventual y, she tapped the newspaper with the tip of Eddie’s pen.
    “You read the CCJ ?”
    “Sometimes.”
    “It’s a treasure trove of information.” She made an elaborate show of picking up the first section. “You never know what you might find.”
    Flattening the thing and spinning it around to face