“God, I love you, Mom.” Mels jerked up from the chair and went around. Falling to her knees, she put her arms around the woman. “I love you so much.”
As she felt herself get held in return, she thought that, of all the days when she needed this, today was it.
In the sunshine, in the kitchen, in the embrace of a mother she had never thought she would understand, she realized that her father wasn’t the only awesome one in the family—and she had a terrible sense that if he hadn’t died, this moment might never have happened.
Kind of made her think about that whole God-doesn’t-close-a-door-without-opening-a-window thing.
Mels eased back and wiped under her eyes again. “Well. There you go.”
Her mom smiled. “Your father used to say that.”
“Was he as good to you as he was to me?”
“Every bit as wonderful. Your father is one in a million—and his death didn’t change that. Never will.”
Mels rose to her feet. “I, ah, I made coffee a while ago. Would you like some?”
“Yes, please.”
When Mels turned away for the coffee pot and the cupboard, she thought at least all was not lost. As devastated as she was about Matthias, this gave her a measure of peace.
And set her to thinking about where she was at.
She might not have found all those missing persons, but she was through being lost in her own life.
Chapter Forty-seven
Back downtown at the Marriott, Adrian had had a front row seat for the reporter’s departure: sitting out in the corridor, he’d watched as the woman took off from Matthias’s hotel room, her I’m-outta-here gait a pretty clear indication that she was not a happy camper.
Annnnd the gun in her hand was another dead giveaway.
Looked like he’d given up his sex life for nothing.
As she’d stepped into an elevator, Adrian went to jump to his feet—and for the first time in his life, he didn’t go instant vertical.
His body just refused to work right, the pain in his leg joints slowing him down, his lack of depth perception creating a wonky balance problem—
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Ad glanced across to the left. Jim had arrived in all his glory—or, in this case, all his grunge. The guy appeared to have been pulled through a rosebush ass-backward, his hair sticking out, his clothes wrinkled, the bags under his eyes big enough to pack a family vacation in.
The other angel froze the second their stares met. “What have you done.”
Ad let the guy draw his own conclusions. The math was pretty simple—and hey, check it, Jim was getting the solution: His head slowly turned to the door to Matthias’s room.
“He’s whole?”
“You said she was the key—so I made it possible for him to get a little closer. So to speak.”
Ad rubbed the nape of his neck and braced himself for a lecture, or maybe some fireworks. Frankly, he just didn’t have the energy for any more drama.
“Are you okay?” Jim asked roughly.
“Yeah, just a little stiff—and the lack of depth perception can be overcome. I’ll still be good to go on the field—”
“I don’t give a shit about the fighting. I want to know if you’re all right. Is it permanent?”
Adrian blinked. “Ah, probably.”
“Jesus…” The guy looked back over at the hotel room door. “You really took one for the team.”
The admiration and respect in the angel’s voice made Ad stare at his combat boots. “Don’t get all excited—it didn’t work.”
“What do you mean?”
“She left here about a minute and a half ago—and not to get some bagels and lox and a copy of the Times. Whatever happened in there was not all hearts-and-flowers wonderful.”
“Shit.” Jim cleared his throat. “Well, I talked with Devina. Told her to lay off the reporter.”
“How’d that go?”
As the other angel crossed his arms over his chest and thinned out his mouth, Adrian thought, oh, fuck….
“You were with her again, weren’t you,” he said in a dead voice.
Jim cleared his throat. “I was angry—so was she. It just…you know, happened.”
“Well, guess that’s one way of arguing. Who won?”
“Not a win/lose sitch.”
Ad wasn’t so sure about that. “Where’s the bitch now?”
“I don’t know.”
As the guy glanced down at the elevator like he was worried about Matthias’s female, Ad nodded. “Go check on Mels—I’ll keep an eye on Prince Charming.”
“I won’t be far.”
“Take your time. I got this.” Unsheathing his crystal dagger, he held it up so that the transparent blade caught the light. “Trust me.”
Jim hesitated. “Call if you need me.”
“I won’t, but I will.”
Cue the poof! and Heron was gone.
Adrian limped to the door, rapped with his knuckles, and then opened the way in. Matthias was yanking some pants on, and he froze in midpull.
“I knocked,” Ad said dryly.
The other guy finished the job, cranked the sweatpants’ tie tight around his waist, and tucked in his Caldwell Red Wings T-shirt. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”
Sure enough, the gun wasn’t far, and Ad knew for a fact that it had been reloaded after the showdown in the forest. Still, it wasn’t like the forty was capable of doing anything more than annoy him.
“You off to somewhere?” Ad asked.
Moving fast, the man sat down on the edge of the bed and shoved his feet into those black Nikes. “You always so good with doors?”
“I’m good with a lot of things.”
Matthias paused. “You’re limping, you know that?”
Ad shrugged. “Bad foot.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’ve said all I’m going to.”
Matthias cursed as he got up to collect his wallet and windbreaker. “Okay, fine. But we’ve got to leave—the cops are on the way. Or will be shortly.”
“Why?”
“Mels is going to them right now—she figured out that Jim and I got busy in the basement here the other night. My memory’s back, by the way.”
“Everything?”
“Yup.”
Shit. “Congratulations.”
“Not really.” The man was speaking quick and concisely. “Listen, Jim said I’m going to face a crossroads?”
Ad nodded. “What happened to your girl?”
“She figured out who I really was.”
“That’s so not going to help us.”
“Well, the eye-opener helped her, and that’s more important. I should never have been with the woman.”
On that note, Matthias got quiet, and yeah, wow, you could practically smell the wood burning.
“I know what I have to do,” he said after a moment. “It’s the only way…to make things right. I know exactly what to do.”
Ad let his head fall back in frustration. What this situation did not need was any more bright ideas.
“We’ve gotta blow this place,” Matthias said, as he stalked to the door. “But first, a little breaking and entering on the way out.”
“Isn’t that an oxymoron?”
As the guy just walked into the hallway, Adrian cursed and snagged the cane from where it was by the television built-in thingy.
Turned out it was a good call—the old-man affect increased his speed. Hard to get used to needing the thing, however.
Not really his style.
As Matthias hit the emergency exit into the stairwell, and started descending the concrete steps, Mels’s voice dogged him.
It was lies, all of it—wasn’t it.
That one sentence, over and over again, like a repeating rifle—or a machine gun—until he prayed for the amnesia to come back.
The tragedy was that nothing around how he’d felt about her had been anything less than the God’s honest truth. Same with the physical condition he’d been in, and his sense of where he’d been…and where he was in danger of returning.