ANGEL BLUE [1]

LEAD 23: strange case of dr jekyll

      “Top Cop,” Banks mutters as she comes out of her drug haze.

      The paramedics had to give Banks a blood transfusion and stitch up the gash, which Sam did a wonderful job of corderising. He saved Banks’ life by heating up that knife with his steady hands, better than my attempt, shaking all over the damn place. I poke the dimple in Banks’ cheek and then sigh when I see Adams’ badge on the table near her hospital bed.

      “Super Cop,” I say and hold her hands. “You almost died on me.”

      “You’re the one Nikita pronounced dead,” Banks chuckles with a hoarse voice. “Don’t worry, we’re both not gonna die for a long while. My really cute Doctor said you’ve been hanging around for the past three hours wanting to tell me something, what is it?”

      I internally groan, Banks’ Doc probably thinks I’m a serial killer. The truth is that since two days ago, I’ve spent most of my time at the hospital―I’m too scared to go back to the precinct because I know Sam will be there for updates regardless of Dad’s letter, I don’t know how to act around him. Hell, a few months ago we both completely detested each other and then we’re kissing?

      Banks simply raises an eyebrow at me when my mouth opens but no sound comes out. I’ve already explained to her about the Nikita situation and she understands. The only thing that doesn’t make sense are Nikita’s demands, he wants protection from Q but hasn’t specified how he’s going to help us. If I can tell Banks about the man that could possibly have killed her father, then why can’t I tell her about Sam kissing me? Or me kissing Sam back?

      “Sam and I…” my voice fails me.

      “Oh my God,” she says, sitting up a little straighter in bed.

      I frown at her, confused. Banks is my best friend, by now, she can read me like a book, and she has. Banks’ hands cover her mouth and I think she’s going to puke, but she bursts into a fit of girly squeals and starts writhing around in her spotted hospital gown. Banks clasps my hands and grins.

      “I hope you used protection,” Banks squeaks.

      What.

      “Oh no, no, no, no you’ve got it all wrong,” I wave my hands about like I’m shooing away a fly. “No. Sam kissed me when you and Adams were scoping out the guests and I kinda, maybe, sort of…kissed him back.”

      Banks’ enthusiasm doesn’t falter one single bit, in fact, she seems happier that I kissed Sam instead of jumping his bones. Please, I’m not as desperate as Amanda Jane. Banks grins again and lets out booming laughter. I’m not sure if it’s in triumph or if that Baine had actually nicked the femoral artery in her thigh.

      “Scandalous partnership problems,” Banks winks at me. “I told you it was the blue hair, it’s a definite man magnet,” she pauses and then purses her lips, “if you couldn’t spit it out, that means you liked him kissing you, and if you liked that that means you like him. No?”

“Well,” is all I can manage.

      I’ve spent the past three days thinking (and avoiding) my problems with Sam, I’m trying to get the situation straight in my head. I arrange to split said partnership because I don’t want him to be scared anymore, but then I find out that Sam’s actually afraid of what our partnership will come to, and then the stupid prat decided to kiss me and I really like said problem. The problem with that problem is that there are more problems than solutions such as Henry Nikita taking deep satisfaction that I’m currently crushing on the man that he taunted back in Washington. Great.