Fallen Angels 04 - Rapture (38 page)

The idea that she was going to lose him soon made everything feel first-time intense, as if her body understood exactly what her mind was stuck on: Enjoy this now, because the memories are going to have to last a very, very long time.

It was hard to imagine she would find this with anybody else.

“Come for me,” he demanded against her nipple.

The release squeezed her thighs against his hand, trapping him
deep inside of her, the jerking of her hips rubbing the top of her sex on his wrist in just the right place.

As she gasped his name into the darkness and went rigid, the sweet sting of the orgasm continued beyond the first rush of pleasure, and she opened herself up to it, hoping to hold on to the fleeting sensations and turn them into an infinity.

But, of course, it didn’t last.

Real life didn’t come with forever.

When Matthias nuzzled her throat and tucked her in against his chest, she wished he were naked, too, but anytime she’d tried to pull his shirt off or even put her hands under it, he’d redirected her.

Opening one eye, she groaned when she saw the clock. Six thirty a.m.

The night was over.

Crap, she was on the verge of going teary.

And damn it, she’d forgotten to tell her mother that she wasn’t coming home. She also had no car. And she didn’t want to go to work.

What a great way to wake up.

“I’d better get going,” she said gruffly.

“Yeah.” He loosened his hold on her, pressed a kiss to her mouth, and then separated them completely.

Was now the moment, she wondered. Time for him to honor his promise?

“How about dinner?” he said instead.

The smile that hit her face was so big it was a wonder it didn’t light up the room like a camera flash. “You got it.”

The fact that she was going to see him in twelve hours made the hit-the-bathroom-and-re-dress thing so much easier, and then, like a gentleman, he showed her to the door, still in his Hanes T-shirt and boxer shorts.

As they stood together in between the jambs, he looked like he might say something … but then he let his actions speak for him: He kissed her so deep and long, she thought they would never come up for air.

Mels left before she couldn’t leave, and the elevator ride seemed to take forever.

Outside at the curb, she was pleased to find that even though it was before seven in the morning, there was a line of taxis waiting.

Getting into the back of one, she met the guy’s eyes in the rearview. “Two forty-two Pine Way.”

“Out in the ’burbs, huh.”

“Yup.”

He nodded, put them in gear, and didn’t say another word. Thank you, Jesus.

As they took the ramp up onto the Northway, joined commuter traffic that was just starting to heat up, she stared at the city from the elevated highway. There was a beauty to the urban landscape, the tallest buildings reflecting the pink and peach of the sunrise off their mirrored flanks, the roads relatively clear, the day just beginning and therefore making downtown look young.

Then again, after a night of sex, and the security of a dinner date, she probably had so many endorphins in her bloodstream, she was incapable of seeing the world as anything other than a tourist postcard.

It wasn’t until they came up to the great iron fencing of Pine Grove Cemetery that her bliss started to take a backseat.

What would you say if I told you I believe in Hell. And not from a religious standpoint, but because I’d been there
.

Mels closed her eyes, the stress creeping up her spine and settling in at the base of her skull.

I think I was sent back here to do something. I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to find it out. Maybe it’s a second chance
.

Matthias had sounded anything but crazy when he’d told her that. He’d seemed to believe with absolute clarity in what he was talking about, and when she’d been looking at him, staring into his eyes, she’d come pretty close to believing it, too.

But maybe that was the way of crazy people. They were normal except for the salient, damaging fact that their reality filter was way off from everyone else’s. To them? What they thought they saw and what they believed to be true
was
the real thing.

So they could look you in the eye with total sincerity and talk a whole lot of bullcrap.

If she took away the extrapolation, he’d woken up on a grave, naked. Had clothed himself somehow and gotten over a ten-foot-high iron fence. Then jumped out in front of her car.

And this added up to a reject from Hell for him.

Oh, and people were after him. …

Plus he was armed.

Panic trembled along her nerve endings as logic started to replace emotion, and the conclusion that she’d put herself in danger loomed.

Except he’d never hurt her. Never threatened her. They’d been in a public place—a hotel room with thin walls.

And a man who had saved her life at the hospital had vouched for the guy.

Crazy madman or lost soul?

Which was he. …

More to the point, where was she in all this?

Mels was rubbing her tired, aching head when they pulled up in front of her mother’s house. After paying the driver, she put the front walkway to use, and studiously refused to look at the dormer where her father had done all that work.

He wouldn’t have approved of her coming home early in the
morning, wearing the same clothes she’d put on the morning before, her hair a mess even though she’d pulled it back, her lips swollen.

Unlocking the door, she didn’t need the scent of coffee or the sound of a spoon against a china bowl to tell her that her mother was up. She’d probably stayed awake, too—

Cutting through the family room, Mels saw a half-done crossword puzzle next to her mother’s favorite chair, along with a mug that appeared to have the dregs of hot chocolate congealing in the bottom.

Picking the thing up, she brought it with her into the kitchen. “Hi. Listen, I’m really sorry I didn’t call. It was rude of me—I just lost track of time.”

Her mother didn’t look up from the granola, and when she was silent for quite a while, Mels found it difficult to breathe.

“Do you know what the oddest part is?” her mother said eventually.

“No.”

“If you didn’t live here, I wouldn’t have known that you didn’t come home—I wouldn’t have worried.” Her mother frowned into her coffee. “Don’t you think that’s strange? You’re a grown woman, legally and in practice nothing more than a roommate of mine. You are no longer a minor child that I’m to look after. So you’d think it wouldn’t matter.”

Mels closed her eyes, that distance between her and her mother so vast she wondered how they were able to hear each other at all.

This was, of course, her fault—and not just the part about not calling the night before.

With a soft curse, Mels went over and poured herself a cup of Folgers. When she turned back around, the way the sunlight fell on her mother’s face went through her like a knife: Something about
the angle of the illumination seemed to pick out every single line, wrinkle, and imperfection, until the age was so screamingly obvious, Mels had to look away.

In the silence, she thought of her father. Of everything he had missed since he’d died, all the days and weeks and months. The years.

Of how much time her mother had had to miss him. Of the house that the woman had to take care of herself. Of the nights—the long nights made longer thanks to a daughter who had her head up her ass.

Mels went over and sat down. Not across the table, but next to her mother. “I think I’m falling in love with someone.”

As her mother’s head snapped up, Mels was a little shocked, too. She hadn’t shared anything about her life for … yeah, since she’d moved in—and before then, it wasn’t as if she’d been filing long editorials.

“You have?” her mother whispered, eyes wide.

“Yeah, he’s … well, he’s the man I hit with my car, actually.”

Her mother breathed in. “I didn’t know you’d been in an accident. Was it … when you told me you hurt yourself in the shower?”

Mels looked down at her hands. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I guess that explains the fact that your car’s been gone.”

“It wasn’t anything serious. Honestly, I’m fine.” Well, except for the fact that she felt like crap for lying to her mother.

In the silence that followed, she braced herself for some kind of an oh-you-can’t-be-serious, either about Matthias or Fi-Fi.

Instead, her mom just said, “What’s he like?”

“Ah …” Mels covered up the pause by taking another sip of coffee. “He’s a lot like Dad.”

Her mother smiled in that gentle way of hers. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“He’s … yeah, I don’t know how to explain it in specifics—he just reminds me of Dad.”

“Is he a Catholic?”

“I don’t know.” They’d never talked religion—well, except for the whole back-from-Hell thing—but now that her mother brought it up, she thought it might be cool if he was. “I’ll ask him.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“It’s complicated.” Christ, did he even have a job?

“Does he treat you nicely?”

“Oh, yes. Very much so. He’s … a good man.” Who might be crazy as a loon. “He takes care of me.”

“That’s important, you know. Your father … he always took care of you and me—”

“I’m really sorry about last night.”

Her mother palmed her cup and stared into the distance. “I think it’s wonderful that you found someone. And that you came home safe this morning.”

Oh, shit … she hadn’t thought about that part of it—of her mother not just up and waiting, but likely replaying that night when members of the CPD had come to the front door.

“Can I ask you something about Dad?” Mels said abruptly.

“Sure.”

Man, she could not believe she was going there. “Did he treat you well? Because he was gone a lot, wasn’t he. Working.”

Her mother’s eyes swung around. “Your father was very committed to this city. His job was everything to him.”

“What about you? Where did you fit in?”

“Oh, you know me, I’m not much for being the center of attention. Would you like some more coffee?”

“I’m good.”

Her mother got up with her bowl, went to the sink, and rinsed out the uneaten granola. “So, more about your mystery man. Can you tell me his name?”

“Matthias.”

“Oh, that’s a nice name.”

“He has amnesia. He can’t tell me much more than that.”

Brows lifted, but there was no censure, no concern, no flip-out. Just calm acceptance. “Is he in the care of a good doctor, I hope?”

“He was seen at the ER, yes. And he’s okay—it’s coming back.”

“Does he live here in Caldwell?”

“He does right now.” Mels cleared her throat. “You know, I’d like you to meet him.”

Her mother froze over by the sink. Then she blinked fast, like composure was hard to keep. “That would be … lovely.”

Mels nodded, even though she had no idea whether it was even possible. The thing was, though, she’d given so little to her mother, and at the moment, Matthias was—or at least seemed to be—the biggest deal in her life.

So it seemed appropriate to open up about him.

Although, boy, after all this time, the whole sharing thing felt odd and awkward … the interpersonal equivalent of a training bra, or a set of braces, or a learner’s permit.

More significantly, it hadn’t been until this moment, on this morning, in this kitchen, that Mels realized that for all the sum total of her age, she hadn’t grown up. Not really. She’d checked out of life on a lot of levels after her father died, her feelings regressing and getting buried under career goals that had soured into a sustained dissatisfaction with everything.

Matthias had shaken her up.

Woken her up.

And she didn’t like what she saw in the lines of her mother’s face.

“Yeah,” Mels said. “I don’t know how long he’s in town for, but … I’d really like you to meet him.”

Her mother nodded and seemed to take an inordinate time sponging around the counter. “Whenever you like. I’m always here.”

God, that was true, wasn’t it.

And why had she felt like that was a burden she had to bear?

Mels glanced at the digital clock on the stove and stood up with her cup. “I guess I’d better go get ready.”

“Would you like my car today?”

“You know what … yes, please.”

Now her mother really smiled, the expression lifting some of the perma-sadness that had been there since … well, forever, it seemed.

“That’s good. I’d like to help in any way I can.”

At the archway into the hall, Mels stopped. “I’m sorry.”

Her mother’s answering smile struck her not as weak, but as accepting.