J.R. Ward - Envy

And his mother would be safe forever.

And Sissy would be free. If he hadn’t sprung her before then.

“You have done well.”

Nigel’s autocratic English accent didn’t seem quite so annoying.

“Yeah, but I’m not stopping now.”

“In this you are correct.”

Jim nodded, and then looked over at his boss. The guy was dressed in a pretty damn sharp suit, this time black with pinstripes. Matter of fact, he looked like an elegant gangster as he stood beside a table set with fancy-schmancy plates and crap. Two of the other archangels and the big Irish wolfhound were seated, clearly waiting with patience for the go-ahead on the dessert that was all laid out.

“On that note,” Jim murmured, “I’m going back down. Next round will be starting soon.”

Or at least, he hoped it would.

“Won’t you stay for an after-dinner sweet? We have a seat for you.”

“Thanks,” Jim said. “But I’ve got someone I have to see.”

“Very well.”

Except before he could disappear, Nigel drew him aside, out of the earshot of the others. “We are not yet finished, you and I.”

“Sorry, I’m really not hungry.”

“With regard to this agreement you had with Devina—”

“You mean who the soul was.”

The archangel cleared his throat. “Yes, indeed. I would caution you—”

Jim clapped the guy on the back and ignored the glare he got in response. “I got this, Nigel. Trust me.”

As he cocked a half smile, the odd, noncolor eyes of his boss narrowed. “Sometimes I wonder if that is wise.”

“Trusting my ass? Well, you picked me.”

“I am e’er reminded.” The angel caught Jim’s arm. “But I would tell you something.”

“Blah, blah, blah—”

“The next soul. You will recognize him as both an old friend and an old foe who you have seen of late. The path could not be more obvious if it were spotlit.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Nice road map, Nigel. As usual, you put a real sharp point on ‘obtuse.’ ”

“Trust me.”

As Jim cocked an eyebrow, one side of the archangel’s mouth lifted in a smile.

Jim had to laugh. “You know, it’s a wonder we don’t get along better.”

“I would have to agree.”

On that note, Nigel sent him back, and the trip was easier than the first couple of times he’d gone up and down to earth.

At least this time, he didn’t have to die to get his travel ticket stamped.

Taking form in front of the garage he now lived in again, he looked up. The windows of the apartment were dark, and with no exterior lights on, the night extended through the yard, past the forest, and out to the rolling field beyond. But all was not black. Off in the distance, the white farmhouse had its two lanterns on the front porch glowing, the beacons throwing off a pair of peachy flushes, as if the structure were blushing a little.

Man, it was frickin’ cold. No moon out, either.

Looked like it was going to snow—

“And so you won.”

Turning around, he greeted Devina’s arrival with a broad smile. “And that would be ‘again.’ Come to watch me gloat?”

“No.”

“Pity, it’s a hell of a show. I’ll even give you an intermission in case you want to get more popcorn.”

As usual, she was looking fine as a brand-new dollar bill, all put together in one of her outfits that left nothing to the imagination: Tonight, those curves of hers were wrapped up tight in bright red.

“You know why I’m here,” she said.

“Nowhere to go, huh. So sad.”

“Our deal, Heron.” Now she smiled. And as she walked forward, her hips moved like she was ready to be ridden hard. “I kept up my end of the bargain. In spite of what you think of me, I told you who the soul was—I didn’t lie. So you’ll be coming with me now.”

Jim let her saunter on over. And he let her have her little moment of satisfaction.

And when she was right in front of him, he let her reach out and cup him between the legs.

But as she opened her mouth, he cut her off. “I did.”

She laughed, a lovely sound that suggested that in her mind, they were already fucking. “I believe, in the human marriage tradition, the response is ‘I do.’ Is that what you’re after, my love?”

He pointedly removed her hand. “I lied, Devina.” He leaned in and put his mouth right next to her ear. “Fibbed. Falsified. Fabricated. You know allllll about it, don’t you. So how’s it feel being on the other side, bitch.”

When he stepped back, the confusion on her face was something for the history books. If only he had a camera . . .

“Do I need to draw you a picture?” he murmured.

Abruptly, her expression changed, her features darkening to the point of violence.

“Intent is irrelevant,” she said in a low tone. “You were very clear.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find intent is everything. You can’t take what’s not yours, and I didn’t let you in—I led you on .”

“You . . . bastard,” she spat.

“All’s fair in love and war. And don’t pretend you didn’t write that playbook.”

She hauled back and slapped him across the face. “ Don’t you forget your place .”

Jim laughed at her. “Never for a minute.” Except then he got serious. “But, Devina, you and I need to be clear on something—if you go back and mistreat . . . anyone . . . I’ll make sure you never get a piece of me again.”

“I already know you don’t keep your promises.”

“That’s a vow.” He pounded his chest and then put his forefinger right between her breasts. “From me . . . to you. You hurt anyone down there, I’ll never fuck you again.”

For a split second, her mask slipped, that monstrous visage with its rotting skin and jutting ridges of bones making an appearance.

Jim cocked his head. “You know, demon, anger suits you. To a T.”

There was a long moment of tense silence, and then she seemed to get herself under control, the fake beauty covering up the evil underneath once more.

“I will never trust you again,” she announced.

“Sounds good to me.” He lifted up his hand and waved. “Bye-bye, Devina.”

“This is not over.”

“Predictable parting shot. Just what I’ve come to expect from you.”

He was aware he was pushing his luck, but flush with winning another round, he didn’t give a crap.

Devina, however, was finished playing, apparently. She tilted her chin down and looked at him from under her carefully sculpted brows. “See you soon, Heron.”

And just like that, she was out of there, ethering away.

In the aftermath, Jim shook a cigarette from his pack and lit up. On the exhale, he laughed again, enjoying the buzz going through him. It was kind of like he’d just had sex—the good kind.

Turning to the garage, he strode over to the stairs, figuring he’d check in with Adrian before he went—

As he exhaled, he frowned and wondered if he was hearing things. But no. That radio he did not own was playing again. . . .

An a cappella version of Train’s “Calling All Angels . ”

What the hell?

Mounting the stairs quickly, he put the cigarette between his lips as he pushed open the door. . . .

Sitting on the floor, with his back against the crawl space’s entryway, Adrian had his head in his hands. With soft, perfect pitch, he carried the lyrics slowly, beautifully . . . as if he had been born for the microphone.

“I thought you couldn’t sing,” Jim said.

Adrian didn’t lift his head, but he stopped and shrugged. “I just did that to piss him off. You, too, matter of fact.”

Jim exhaled a steady stream of smoke. “You got a nice voice.”

Funny that he preferred the off-key, annoying shit.