I smiled and released Steve’s hands. “Consider yourself free, Steve.”
I watched as Steve unzipped his velour track jacket to mid-navel, fluffed up the lichen on his chest, and beelined for the busty paramedic.
Neils stepped in between us, looking from Nina and Franks, moonfaced, swooning, to Steve sauntering down the street, to me. He looked me up and down and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“So what are you?” he asked finally. “Some kind of she-wolf or something?” Neils was keeping his distance from me, his eyes raking me up and down carefully.
I wagged my head and sat down on the ambulance tailgate. “Nope. Nothing. I’m not special like that. I’m just your average girl.”
Alex rearranged the blanket on my shoulders and snuggled me close to him, his lips a hairsbreadth from my earlobe.
“Sophie Lawson,” he whispered, “there is nothing average about you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I was mashing potting soil around the new spider plant in my office when Alex knocked on the door frame.
“Agent Grace,” I said, grinning up at him.
“It’s Alex,” he said, striding up to me. His blue eyes slipped over me. “You look good. How are you feeling?”
I leaned against my desk. “Surprisingly well given the circumstances.” I felt the broken skin on my lips with the tip of my tongue.
“So, no word from Mr. Sampson yet?”
I wagged my head, glancing toward the still-broken door to his office, his furniture still sitting empty, desk vacant. “Nothing. I heard they still haven’t been able to find Lucy, either.”
Alex nodded. “That’s true. The guys have been out at Sampson’s house a couple of times—it’s clean. They recovered the shell casing, but weren’t able to find Lucy’s body.”
I shuddered. “Her body. Part of me hopes she just took off—I mean, she’s just a kid.”
Alex’s eyes flashed.
“A terribly misguided, slightly sociopathic kid. Maybe she learned her lesson.” I tried to smile. “I kind of think we should go look for her, you know, maybe while we’re looking for Sampson? I bet we could—”
“You know I’m not really an FBI agent, Sophie.”
“Right,” I said quietly.
Alex sat on the edge of my desk, and I tried to keep my eyes on my potting soil—tried desperately not to glance at the way his quadriceps bulged underneath his jeans, or the way his biceps mercilessly stretched at the arms of his olive-green T-shirt.
I cocked my head, studying. My fingers touched the warm skin on his arm, leaving a dusty trail of soil. “I never noticed this tattoo,” I said, tracing the elaborately etched wing that poked from underneath his sleeve.
Alex turned, taking both my hands in his, lacing his fingers through mine. He pulled me close so that I could feel the warmth of his chest as it burned through his T-shirt, could taste the sweet crisp-apple scent of his breath.
“Sophie, I am an angel,” he whispered.
I tried to think of a sexy retort, but Alex held my gaze steady, his eyes bluer and more firecracker-startling than ever.
“You saved my life, Alex. You might be a hero, but an angel?”
“I’m serious,” Alex said. “You know I am.”
“Angels don’t exist,” I replied, extracting my hands from his and going back to my spider plant.
“Neither do vampires,” he answered.
I sat down hard, brushing my palms on my jeans. “So first you’re Parker Hayes, the San Francisco detective.”
“By way of Buffalo,” he interjected.
“Then you’re Alex Grace, the FBI agent. Now it’s—what? Gabriel the angel?”
“Gabriel is an archangel. And kind of a drama queen if you really want to know the truth. One website calls him ‘exalted,’ and that’s all he ever talks about.”
I could feel myself gape. “Oh holy Lord, you’re completely serious. And what about your niece?” I made flapping motions with my hands. “Is she an angel, too?”
Alex wasn’t amused. “She’s a pseudo-niece. Friend of the family. Her father asked me to check in on her after he passed away.”
“Passed away? You mean died.” I was incredulous and Alex cracked that half smile. I stood up and looked over his shoulder.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“Wings.”
“Earthbound angels don’t have wings.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest and sat down again. “Right. That’s convenient. No wings, no halo. And I suppose you don’t have one of those bow-and-arrow things, either.”
Alex raised an amused eyebrow. “That’s Cupid. He’s actually a cherub—that’s different.”
“Of course it is,” I groaned, my eyes narrowed, studying. “Very convenient.”