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Back Angel Save as PDF
Chapters (88)
  1. Welcome
  2. Dedication
  3. To the reader
  4. BOOK ONE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. BOOK TWO
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. BOOK THREE
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. Books by James Patterson
  88. Cover Page

Maya wiped off her cheek and stood up, flashing a look that could kill. She grabbed the basket of rolls and began pelting Gazzy with them, lightning fast.

Gazzy laughed and ducked, taking no offense. “Food fight!” he cried happily.

Immediately, the uncivilized hellions in my flock and the free-wheeling punks in Fang’s gang let all their inhibitions go. Nudge tossed her milk shake at the blond girl. The scrawny kid mashed his hamburger in Iggy’s face. It fell to the floor, and Total dropped on it like a small, black avenging angel. Angel methodically dipped fries in ketchup and launched them at anyone she could. Fang and I were waving our arms and shouting for them to stop, but they were well beyond hearing us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some security guards starting to make their way over to our table. Just like old times.

And then it hit me: things had actually been fairly peaceful with Fang and me apart. Horrible and heartbreaking but quiet. Now that we were in the same room, all heck was breaking loose. Maybe we were better off apart? Maybe the whole freaking world was better when we were apart?

“Guys!” I shouted. I was about to tell my flock to do an up-and-away before we all got arrested, and then, all of a sudden, Dylan jumped up on a chair.

And he started to sing.

55

I’D SEEN THE effect of Dylan’s singing before. It would stop a rabid dog in its tracks. And it had the same effect now.

“When I look in your eyes, I see the ocean,” he sang, and the food fight started moving in slow motion.

“When I look in your heart, I see myself.

When we’re apart, I’m just a shadow.

Can’t you see, oh can’t you see,

We were meant to be…”

Glancing around quickly, I saw that the kids had stopped, freezing in position as if they were playing statue. The security guards had stopped too, and were standing still, listening to Dylan, mesmerized by his beautiful voice. The diners who had been fleeing the chaos paused and turned around. Then Dylan locked his eyes on mine.

“You and me, we’re a team,” he crooned.

“You and me, we’re a dream…

Is this real? Are you what you seem?

I can tell you, you can count on me.

Can’t you see, oh can’t you see,

We were meant to be…”

I can’t describe the effect his voice had on me—it was like soothing honey, calming my nerves. And it wasn’t just me—people were clapping, the food fight was forgotten, the security guards were beaming as if they expected Dylan to whip out an engagement ring and pop the question.