A Terrible Fall of Angels (Zaniel Havelock #1)(108)

I felt that sexy, untrustworthy smile that I had literally practiced in the mirror before one undercover operation. I’d been so good at playing the part that Charleston had loaned me out a couple of times.

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just waiting in line, honey.”

The woman beside me smiled with those crimson lips. Her gray eyes matched the color of her skirt suit, and the fact that she was wearing that with sensible black heels made me think maybe she wasn’t a college student, maybe grad school?

I widened my smile and debated how old she thought I was.

Charleston said, “Do you see the subject?”

“Of course, honey, just tell me what you want, and I’ll bring it home for you.”

The woman mouthed, You, with her red lips.

I looked past her to the table with Shelby Jackson and her boyfriend. The woman in front of me noticed me looking and frowned. “Sorry, honey, what did you say? I think I see some of our friends at a table here.”

The woman in the red lipstick glanced behind her, but she was only about five-eight in the heels so she couldn’t see through the crowd.

The barista called out, “Miranda, coffee for Miranda.”

The woman looked up and started to move forward, then glanced at me. She mouthed, Wait here.

I gave her a smile I hoped meant I was willing to wait, then realized that I might have been too successful at the flirting. That was my downfall when I did undercover; sometimes I was too good at it. Not just the flirting douchebag, but I’d scared myself a couple of times playing the threatening muscle. I’d asked Charleston to not have me do that one again.

I stayed in line while Miranda went for her coffee. It gave me time to check the room for threats and to make sure that Shelby and her date were still settled in at their table.

“Are you being too successful at flirting again?” Charleston asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Let me know if you need an out and I’ll call you a cheating bastard. I’ll make sure to use the deep, ghetto voice like the one I did when you pretended to be my leg breaker.”

The thought of Miranda’s face when she heard Charleston play my ghetto boyfriend made me laugh out loud, not the sexy chuckle, but just a real laugh.

Charleston’s deep chuckle on the other end made two of the men in line look at me, which made me laugh more; if only my real love life was as good as my pretend one.

I saw Shelby’s boyfriend stand up. I told Charleston, “Keep sounding like that and I might have to leave before I get the coffee.”

Charleston’s voice was serious now. “Is subject moving location?”

I grinned like he’d said something flirty. “Maybe.” The boyfriend went toward the bathroom; Shelby stayed sitting at the booth.

“I really would like that coffee, sweetheart. Sure, I can bring you something, what do you want?”

“I take it the subject isn’t moving after all,” Charleston said.

“That’s right, baby.”

Miranda came back through the crowd with her coffee in hand. She stood close enough to brush the back of her hand along my biceps. I did what she expected and flexed for her. Reggie would have laughed at me or rolled her eyes; Miranda smiled like she’d enjoyed it. Maybe she had, or maybe she’d tolerate it until after she got what she wanted from me, which was at least a coffee date.

“What’s your major?” Miranda asked.

“Who’s that?” Charleston asked.

“Someone I met in line, I told you it was long, we’re reduced to making small talk with each other.”

“Gotta take a call,” Charleston said, and hung up. His voice sounded urgent, but I knew better than to try to keep him on the phone when he sounded like that.

I put my phone in the pocket of my exercise pants and said, “Pre-law.”

Miranda smiled up at me; her red lips looked somewhere between sexy and predatory. Even if I’d been free to take her up on the invitation, I wasn’t sure about that smile.

She looked me up and down like she was thinking about buying more than just the coffee. “You know my name,” she said, motioning with the coffee, “but I don’t know yours yet.”

I looked over her head to the table where Shelby was still sitting. Her boyfriend was coming back from the bathroom. “I’m Havoc.”

“Friends of yours?” she asked.

“Not my friends.” I put too much emphasis on the my, but I also raised my hand so she could see the wedding ring.

She moved the coffee cup so I could see the wedding set on her own hand. “Everyone needs friends of their own, Havoc.” Then she giggled and that was a better sound, a real sound that she’d probably been making long before she started wearing scarlet lipstick. I liked the sound and fought to stay in character and not give her my real smile, which didn’t match the act.

“Agreed,” I said, then looked back over the crowd like I was worried that my spouse’s friends would see us together.

“I’ll make it quick, how old are you? The truth.”

“Thirty-two,” I said.

“Liar,” she said.

I wasn’t lying, but I gave her that fake roguish smile and said, “Thirty-two.”

She looked me up and down again and sighed. “With your friends here, I won’t make you show me ID.”