“In case you want to finish what you started last night.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, snatching the knife out of his hand. Another badass comeback for the record books.

Actually, I did want to finish what I’d started last night. In the worst way possible.

I was in love. I didn’t realize just how much until thirty seconds ago. I knew it the minute my eyes landed on him. Even angry and hurt and volatile, he liquefied my bones and infused my heart with warmth and life and a sense of security. He was like a sanctuary. Like shelter from a storm. I knew, beyond anything known and not known, beyond the future and the past, that I could count on this being, on this man, to be there for me.

It was the whole rote memory thing. I’d woken up in that alley knowing how to talk. How to walk. How to search the Internet. And I woke up in love. It was ingrained in my DNA. I loved Reyes Farrow. I craved him, and there was nothing I could do about it.

This went beyond the fact that he’d saved my life. Then again, he did. He couldn’t be evil. That angel had every intention of dismembering me. Reyes – and the details were still a bit hazy – fought it off. Somehow he fought a celestial being. For me. Was even wounded in the process.

But angels weren’t evil either. Maybe it wasn’t as simple as good and evil. Maybe there were an infinite number of grays in between.

It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. What he was. Where he was from. How he freaking turned into smoke, because damn. He was mine, fire, smoke, and all. I staked my claim right then and there.

“Sorry I’m la—”

Cookie had rushed in like a frozen tornado but stopped short when she saw Reyes and me. She cleared her throat and walked to the storeroom to de-cloak.

I took my prizes and continued to the drinks station to start the coffee, but not before sampling a bite. When Cookie walked up, I groaned aloud and took another bite.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“If you think it’s authentic enchiladas, then yes.”

“I caught a whiff when I walked in, but I thought I was dreaming.”

“Here you go.” Reyes handed Cookie a plate as well through the pass-out window.

She sucked in a soft breath and took the plate as if it were a delicate treasure. And so the morning passed with the two of us sampling Reyes’s cooking – when he wasn’t looking, of course – and waiting on tables. But only because we’d get fired if we didn’t.

Mr. P and the dead stripper came in. Ordered the usual. Garrett came in. Ordered the usual. Osh came in. Ordered off the menu, thus the usual. And a plethora of women filled up every other seat we had. The words morning rush were taking on a whole new meaning. Reyes might have been good for business, but I had blisters from trying to outrun the headless horseman last night and then running all the way home after the Reyes incident. And now they throbbed like the fires of a thousand suns. Still, like Dixie had said, dude could cook. I could forgive a few blisters if it meant a steady supply of chile et al.

When Bobert came in, I asked him if he could look into Mr. Ian Jeffries. Surely I wasn’t his first crush. If he’d gone stalker on other women, there would be a record of some kind, even if he’d never been formally charged.

I also told him about the phone call I got from the FBI agent.

“She’s really good at her job,” he told me. “Said she’d get back to me if they found anything.”

“Bobert, what if I just endangered them more?”

“Janey.” He covered my hand with his. “You did the right thing. The fact that you noticed what was going on may save their lives.”

I gave him an unconvinced nod.

By eleven, Francie and Erin had arrived and dined on the now-famous enchiladas. Francie’s face turned bright red, and her nose ran for the next half hour, but she carried on like a trouper. Mostly to impress Reyes.

But it was eleven and past time for Mr. V’s usual phone call. I waited for his order, but none came.

“I’m going on break,” I told Cookie. She was on break herself, sitting with Bobert. They both looked like they’d just had sex, but it was only the enchiladas.

I wrapped myself in Reyes’s jacket and headed out the front door toward Mr. V’s store. I hadn’t even gone halfway when I noticed a sign on the door. No. This couldn’t be good. Practically sprinting the rest of the way, I read the sign. CLOSED DUE TO ILLNESS.

I threw myself against the plate-glass window and cupped a hand over my eyes. It was dark inside. And empty. I stepped back and glanced at the dry-cleaning store. If the men had tunneled in and stolen something from them, wouldn’t there be cops and investigators? Their open sign flickered, and a woman walked out holding the hand of a young boy, a plastic-covered dress draped over her arm. So it was business as usual.

A plan formed in my mind. I stepped to the street and studied the buildings. If I was right, I might have a way into Mr. V’s store that did not involve lock picking, which I was pretty sure I’d fail at, or breaking out windows, which I was pretty sure I’d fail at, too. Not the window-breaking part, but the stealthy, not-getting-caught part.

I hurried back to the café. The lunch crowd would be arriving soon. I didn’t have much time. And I’d need help.

I hated taking Cookie away from the love of her loins, but people’s lives were at stake. With an almost imperceptible nod, I motioned for her to meet me in the storeroom.

She squinted at me.

I motioned again, with a perceptible nod this time.

She shook her head and shrugged.

I gritted my teeth and pointed outright to the storeroom.

“Sweetheart,” Bobert said, trying not to chuckle, “if you don’t meet her in the storeroom posthaste, she’s liable to stroke.”

I probably should have tried to be discreet at someplace other than right beside his booth.

After kissing Bobert good-bye for, like, ever – PDA much? – Cookie followed me to my home away from home. “What is so secretive that you can’t tell it to me in front of Robert?”

“I need your help breaking and entering.”

“Okay, but I’m not sure how much I can help. I’m good with breaking things. Entering, not so much. Especially if it involves a rooftop and a rope. Just no.”

“I just need you to be the lookout.”

“Oh. I can do that.” We walked into the storeroom and locked the door behind us. “Is this going to stress me out?”

“Probably. And I might need your phone.”

“I’m just not sure I can handle more stress in my life right now.”

I nudged a shelf with my body weight until it was closer to the corner that paralleled Mr. V’s shop. There was an access panel to the heating and cooling system there. If I was right, the stores had once shared the system.

“Nonsense. You’re like tea. The hotter the water and all. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. It’s just everything. New town. New house.”

“New friend who sees dead people?” As Cookie held the shelves steady, I climbed up and lifted the access panel.

“Not at all. You’re one of the best parts.”

“Thanks. Can I see your phone?”

She handed it to me. “That’s what’s crazy. Everything is great. My husband is great. My house is great. I love the area. I mean, seriously, this town is beautiful.”