Still, waking up this early was just wrong. “Why can’t people be reasonable and only die after eleven A.M.?” I whined.
Diana RowlandGood morning!” my partner, Derrel, said in an insanely cheerful voice. “I need my Angel to come out and play.
Diana RowlandI walked into the café, bypassing the waiting people as I scanned for the hulking figure of my partner. It’s official , I thought with a sigh as I spied him at a table for four and realized who else was with him. God hates me.
Diana RowlandAs soon as he was gone I blew my breath out and leaned back against the wall. Awkward. First the cop who’d arrested me, then the paramedic who’d kept me from accidentally killing myself. I didn’t even want to think what a third thing might be.
Diana RowlandI grabbed my napkin and managed to pretend to sneeze which had the added effect of covering up most of my face which was surely completely beet red with embarrassment at this point. Yeah, I was classy and suave like that. Jesus Christ, Angel, get a grip!
Diana RowlandIt looked like pieces of bread pudding that had been soaked in raspberry syrup.
Diana RowlandYeah, so? I was ignorant, but I’m not a fucking moron. Why would I give the shit to you just so I could buy it back from you later?” I leaned back against the counter. “Hon, you’re fucking with the wrong chick. I’ve been around too many drug dealers to buy into a scheme like that.”
He shocked me by bursting out laughing. “Drug dealers? Well, that’s an interesting analogy.” He shook his head but a sardonic smile stayed on his face.
God-fucking-damn but he was seriously good-looking. “Have you ever had the stuffed pancakes here? They’re evil. I highly recommend them.”
“Heh. The cop is recommending evil,” I said. “Too funny.”
To my surprise, Ivanov chuckled. “You’ve discovered my dark side.
Angel, I have no idea how you can stand this stench,” he said. “Derrel’s been doing this for long enough that I think he doesn’t have any smell receptors left, but you . . . ?” He grimaced as he snapped pictures of the skull and the injury while I held the body in position for him. “You are one tough chick.” Then his eyes crinkled, and even though he had the mask on, I could tell he was grinning at me. “Or maybe you’re seriously sick and twisted, in which case you are so in the right line of work.”
I laughed. “Gotta be the second one,” I said. “I’m not tough!
Look, I know this is the last thing you want to talk about, but I wanted to ask you . . . .” He trailed off, looking strangely uneasy.
“Ask me . . . ?” Ask me to dinner? Ask me out for drinks? Ask me if I wanted to see what he looked like under that uniform? Yow, where’d that last one come from?
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