Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“I’ll handle Nikolai.”
“I’ll leave it be,” I agree. “For now.”
“Good.” Matteo smirks. “I’m sure you’ll get your confessions from them soon enough.” I grunt a response. “Don’t be sad.” Sad? The fuck is he talking about? “Sal will be here shortly with some work.” Ah, no, I’m not itching to work. I have an angel to return to. “Find out his sins, and we’ll be even for the senator's daughter.”
“Fine.” I would have done it either way. It’s what I do, after all.
“This one might not be as straightforward as you think.” That has my hackles rising. “Keep him alive and without a visible mark in case I need to come back for him.”
With that, Matteo is gone. Sal pulls up a few moments later. I walk over to the van, opening the back doors to see whose lucky night it is.
“Fuck me.”
6
ANGEL
Iscream and bolt up. The second I do, I already know I’m coming out of a nightmare.
“Angel.” Hands cup my cheeks. I suck in a breath, having forgotten where I was. How is his touch so gentle? His hands are rough, but I kind of like that. My eyes lock with Abel’s. They aren’t the same, though. They seem darker.
“I’m okay,” I reassure him. For some reason, I wonder if I should be asking him the same question. But I don’t. Shamelessly, I wonder if he might kiss me again. That would be the third time. He doesn't, though. His hands fall away, and he steps back.
“I told you to sleep in the bed.”
“I must have fallen asleep watching TV.”
“I’m going to shower.” With that, he turns, heading toward the bathroom. I have to fight the urge to not pepper him with a million questions. I recall that my father’s second wife would do that, and he would lose it on her.
How long was he gone? I don’t have a way to check the time. It doesn’t feel like morning. I’m still sleepy, but now my mind is starting to race. Abel went out, and the first thing he’s going to do is shower. I’m pretty sure I know what that means. I recall a few times my stepmother having yelled at my father about showering when he got home. She would go on a tirade about how he was with other women and needed to get their scent off of him.
Is it weird that I feel a strange sense of jealousy? What the heck? I mean he kissed me, so it’s not so out of the ballpark. And it was my first kiss. I tuck my legs under myself, wondering if that's where he has been. Heck, for all I know, Abel has a whole other life. I don’t really know anything about him. He could have a wife with a couple kids for all I know.
My stomach turns at the thought of him belonging to someone else. I jump up, checking on the kitten, who is still snoozing. I grab a throw blanket from the end of the bed, pulling it back toward the couch to lie down.
Two kisses! Two kisses, and I know nothing about him. I roll, putting my back to the room, and try to find sleep.
“Ahh!” I squeal when I’m lifted off the couch. “What are you doing?”
“I told you about the bed.” He sets me down on it. I stare up at his bare chest. One with more than a few scars on it. My fingers itch to touch him.
“Well, you’re not the boss of me.” There. I told him. I start to stand, but he puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Stay.” There is a cold finality to his tone that makes me freeze in place. I suppose that was the whole point. This is the first time I think I feel a real spark of unease. I stare up into Abel’s dark eyes, knowing the man is probably capable of things my mind could never handle.
I scoot back until I’m on the other side of the bed. Once again, I lie down, but I put my back to him. It takes everything in me not to peek over my shoulder to see what he's doing. I hadn’t heard him come out of the bathroom, so there is no telling if he’s still standing on the other side of the bed.
I close my eyes tight, trying to get myself under control. If I go to sleep now, I know I’ll have a nightmare. They don’t bother me so much anymore. You get used to them, but I don't want to wake up screaming once more.
When the bed dips on the other side, my breath hitches. I flinch when the room plunges into darkness. I hate the dark. Part of why nightmares are easier to take is because I know if the lights are on when I open my eyes, it was only a dream. When it’s dark, that isn’t so easy to decipher.