Sins of the Angels Read Online Free PDF

it with cold water. It would be easier to resist being drawn in, however, if Delaney didn’t keep glancing in her direction, looking like a cat who’d made off with a whole cage of canaries. The woman knew something, and from that expression, Alex guessed it to be significant.
    At last, after she’d poured the water into the machine, set the pot in place, and flipped on the switch, she caved. “All right, what?”
    â€œNothing.” Delaney hesitated, then shrugged. “I was just admiring you, that’s all.”
    Yeah, right.
    The fraud detective’s guileless gaze met her own. “I mean, you seem to be taking it so well. I know I’d be a lot more upset if I were you.”
    Upset? Now, there was a word that didn’t bode well. Alex glowered at the other detective and felt herself waver. She supposed she’d eventually find out what Delaney was talking about, but then again, forewarned might mean forearmed.
    She dropped a teaspoon into her waiting mug with a loud clatter and retrieved the cream from the nearby refrigerator. Then she cast an irritated look Delaney’s way. “Fine, I’ll bite. What am I taking well?”
    Delaney’s perfectly lipsticked mouth curved with satisfaction and Alex tried to ignore a fishhooked feeling. “Jacob Trent. Your new partner,” the fraud detective said. She shook her head. “Poor you. It’ll be hell training someone in the middle of something this big.”
    Was that all? God, for two cents—Alex summoned up a saccharine smile and reminded herself that cops had a moral obligation not to commit murder.
    Granted, she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of babysitting someone new in the middle of a case of this magnitude, but she could hardly complain. With her partner now retired and wading through rivers, the brass had been making increasingly unhappy noises about her working solo; a new partner had been inevitable.
    She had to admit surprise, however, that no one had given her any warning. Roberts could have at least mentioned it at this morning’s scene. Behind her on the counter, the coffee machine hissed and gurgled its progress.
    â€œI didn’t know about it, but I’m sure I’ll have no problem working with Detective Trent. When does he get here?”
    â€œHe’s already here. I told you, he had the last of the coffee.” Delaney nodded out the window overlooking the Homicide Squad office. “That’s him beside Roberts. The guy in the gray pinstripes.”
    Alex’s gaze found her staff inspector, his head just a few inches shy of scraping the top of his office doorway, with the slightly gaunt look that had made his desk a receptacle for anonymous food gifts ever since his separation. Then she turned her attention to the man beside Roberts—and felt her jaw go slack.
    Oh.
    Jacob Trent stood almost as tall as Roberts, but nothing about the man could be described as gaunt. From the powerful set of his wide shoulders to the narrow taper of his hips, right down to the poised, balanced ease with which he shifted his stance, his strength emanated clear across the office. Strength, and a raw, unmitigated magnetism that made Alex’s mouth go dry and her heartbeat kick up a notch.
    Oh my.
    Her gaze traveled over him a second time, lingering on the thick, dark hair that fell in an unruly wave across Trent’s forehead, the bold lines of a profile as harshly beautiful as it was classic . . .
    Delaney cleared her throat and Alex jolted back to reality.
    â€œAre you all right?” Delaney asked. “You look flushed.”
    Alex glanced at the other woman’s smirk. If she wasn’t careful, the fraud detective would have her in bed with Trent before she’d even shaken his hand. She turned from the window.
    â€œFine,” she said. “Thanks. I think I just need that coffee.”
    Delaney nodded at the pot sitting in the now-silent machine.