Page 42 of Devoted

The officer pulls his phone out. "865 North St. Apartment12?"

"Hmm, yep that's the right address. I'm sorry for the mix up. Not sure who made the call but it wasn't me. As you can see, there is nothing going on here except a woman dripping water on hercarpet."

The officer hesitates, seemingly to see if I'm being forced to say everything is all right by some madman sitting in the backroom.

I smile. "I'd invite you guys in for a cup of coffee, but as you can see, I hopped out of the shower to answer thedoor."

"Right." He nods politely. "Sorry to bother you. Call if there's anyproblem."

"I will. Thank you and again I'm sorry about the mix up." I close the door and lockit.

I finish drying my hair and switch to a dry pair of shorts and t-shirt. I grab my phone and notice there's a new voicemail. At first I'm so thrown off by the sound of Maddox's voice, I ignore the content of the urgent message. I listen again. He's upset and rambling off some warning about X-crew and revenge. Silvana had mentioned a bust last week where Maddox got pretty rough with Junior, the eldest son of the gang leader. It's not surprising that they are threatening retaliation. What is surprising is that somehow I'm thrown into the thick ofit.

I call Maddox but it goes straight to voicemail. I'm relieved but somewhat disappointed too. "Hey, I got your message. I'm armed again so no worries. There's only one way into this apartment. You don't have to make a trip over here. Unless you weren't planning to anyway. In which case, I'll hang up in embarrassment now." I end the call. "Fucking hate leavingmessages."

I walk to the nightstand and pull out my weapon. After six weeks of therapy, when it seemed I finally got past the deep depression, Dr. Hoffman gave the release for me to have my gun back. It seems I got it back just intime.

I make sure the deadbolt is locked and grab an apple from the kitchen. It's an exceptionally quiet night in the building. The two kids who live two apartments down have been sick with the flu. I've hardly heard them all week. My next door neighbor usually has his music vibrating through the building for a few hours after he gets home from his landscaper job but he must have a date or be out withfriends.

I sit on the couch and absently watch an old episode of Big Bang while combing through my memory for details about X-crew. I know they were playing both sides. They'd negotiated a nice deal when they had dirt on a massive shipment of cocaine coming over the border. In exchange for the information, the department looked the other way on some of their lesser transgressions. Murder and rape were off the table though. One of the gang members must have crossed a line far enough to come face to face with Maddox. It was a typical deal with the devil. There was some reward. But in the end, the devil always finds a way to screw up or make you pay forit.

The thought of heading back to work in a week has me both thrilled and terrified. I've hardly spoken to or seen anyone from the precinct since I went undercover. I knew the place well. Gossip and rumors were an integral part of the entertainment, something to lighten the mood and help people face the brutal realities of the crime world. I have no doubt that the rumors about Angie Tennyson and her sordid adventures into Lace Underground are a huge topic. Add to that the convoluted and comically short term romance between Ten and Maddox and I'm certain I've kept the lunchroom abuzz for months. But I don't give a shit about what any of them think. My biggest fret is facing Maddox again. It would be a much easier transition if we spoke on the phone first. It might be based on a revenge threat by a notorious gang, but it seems we have an excuse to talknow.

I pick up my phone and check it for texts or voicemail. No word from Maddox. A surge of schoolgirl giddiness hits me when it occurs to me that he can't call back or text if he's heading my way on his motorcycle. Another round of silliness follows when I quickly rush to the bathroom to brush my hair and put on a touch of mascara. My fingers are trembling just enough to assure me that I'm an idiot. For weeks I've been trying to convince myself that it was for the best and that it was good we never really got started on a real relationship. I was sure I would eventually be asking myself why I wanted him in the first place. Apparently, I haven't reached that phaseyet.

A knock on the door makes my pulse race. I stare at myself in the mirror. The dark rings are gone and there is color in my cheeks again. Then a wave of reality strikes. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. Maddox will still look at me as the woman who spent two months high on drugs and mostly naked in Kane Freestone's underground sexden.

There's a second knock. I take my time getting to the door, mostly because I need a moment to slow my breathing. "Play it cool, Tennyson," I mutter tomyself.

I take a deep breath and peer through the peephole expecting to see that annoyingly handsome face staring back at me. Silvana's round face peers up at the hole. His usual smile is gone. He knocks again. "Ten, let me in. It'simportant."

I adore Silvana but there's no way to deny the profound disappointment I feel from not seeing Maddox on the other side of the door. I openit.

"Hey, Sil, did Maddox sendyou?"

His face blanches pale white. "Maddox?" he seems befuddled. Stunned. "No. Clark didn't callyou?"

"Clark? No, I had a voicemail from Maddox that X-crew was out for revenge and that they might be headed myway."

His apple cheeks fall with a deep frown. "I knew it was them. I knew it." He's visiblyshaken.

I reach for his hand. "Come sit down, Sil. You look like you're about to passout."

He shakes his head and doesn't let me take his hand. "No, Ten. We need togo."

"Go where? You're kind of freaking me out,Sil."

"Clark just called me. There's been an accident. Maddox was on his motorcycle. It's bad,Ten."

My legs wobble enough for Silvana to grab hold of my arm. I pat his hand and nod. "I'm all right. Can you drive?" My voice is giving out on me. "I don't think I can,Sil."

"That's why I came to get you instead of calling. Let'sgo."

25

Angie

The windowat the end of the hallway on the way back from the restroom looks out over a giant parking lot. The faded pink light of dawn colors the sky above the hospital. Silvana and I have been waiting ten hours for further updates on Maddox's condition but so far the information has been vague and sporadic. The emergency room physician couldn't even put a solid number on how many broken bones Maddox had suffered when he was thrown from the bike into the surrounding landscape. The doctor concluded that some of the thick, dry shrubbery lining the road helped soften the impact. Witnesses said he was traveling fast, maybe fifty miles per hour, when the car forced him off the road. The paramedics who wheeled him into the emergency room said they weren't sure he would even survive the trip to the hospital. It was a statement that knocked the wind out of me. I clung to Silvana the rest of the night as we waited with sick stomachs and weary heads for the waiting room door to open and a doctor to walk in with a grimexpression.

---