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“It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late,” said Sylvester.
“It is this time.”
• • •
Detective Sylvester quietly slipped away, disappearing down whatever secret passage he had used to come in. Jacks knew he should probably report the intrusion immediately, but instead he just stood there, still as a statue in the garden. His strong hands turned into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms until they turned white.
He turned to meet his own face in the fountain’s reflection. The ripples distorted his perfect Angelic features, crumpling and distorting his face into a picture of rage and unalloyed pain.
With another flex of his fist he swiped at his image in the water, sending up a mighty splash, and headed toward the main hallway.
• • •
“Hi, handsome,” said Emily Brightchurch, smiling. She had snuck up behind him in the hallway, looping her arm through his. Her makeup was perfect, with lips glossed the perfect shade to complement her blazing-red locks. “What are you up to?”
Jackson murmured something noncommittal. Why was he always keeping her at such a distance? She was a pretty girl, he thought. She might try too hard, but he couldn’t blame her for that. And she did seem to like him a lot.
“Can I show you my new dress?” Emily asked, as if the bright idea had just hit her. “You can tell me if it looks good on me or not?”
As if in a daze, Jacks agreed, and the next thing he knew, Emily was leading him to her quarters. He sat down on the sleek couch while she scooped up a shopping bag and brought it with her into her walk-in closet.
“Won’t be more than a second,” she said, her eyes smoky as she cooed at Jacks.
Emily left the closet door slightly open, and then pretended not to notice that the mirror on the other side gave Jacks a full view of her changing. She shimmied into a tight black dress, then made her grand re-entrance into the living room. She pinned her hair up and strutted back to Jacks.
“Well? What do you think?” Emily asked.
“You look great,” Jacks said.
She turned around, and Jacks saw that the back of the dress was unzipped.
“Can you get it for me?” Emily asked with doe eyes.
She leaned up against Jacks. He started to pull up the zipper, but before he’d made it even a centimeter, she turned around and pressed her body against his. In an instant their mouths were at each other, and they were kissing. Emily exhaled heavily and grabbed the back of Jackson’s head to pull him even closer.
The moment took hold of them both—Emily by design, Jacks by surprise—and for a brief moment Jacks let himself give in, surrendered all his pain and doubt to this girl in his arms. He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. She nodded and bit his lip as they kissed.
Suddenly, it hit Jacks what he was doing. “Emily . . . ,” he said, pulling away and ending their kiss. Emily rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled at Jacks.
“It’s okay, Jacks. We can take it slow,” she said. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about what kind of girl I am.”
“I—” Jacks tried to speak, but felt too overwhelmed. Had he really just made out with Emily? After he’d already decided so long ago that he didn’t feel anything for her?
“I should go,” Jacks mumbled.
Emily smiled at him and gave him a peck on the cheek.
Jacks just nodded and slipped out the door, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Pacific waves pushed west toward what seemed like infinity under the bright sun. The whitecaps on the swells appeared like flourishes of sugary frosting cresting in lines across the horizon toward Angel City. Maddy relished the sight as she gazed out the thick glass of the helicopter.
“Five minutes to landing,” a voice crackled in her earpiece.
They were moving Maddy to the ocean front line, to fight. She had volunteered; they needed her. She leaned into the window again, her eyes scanning the distance for the sign of the aircraft carrier.
