Page 2 of Angel

Angel begins The Wild Angels series: a romantic thriller of masked vigilantes, dangerous desire, and deadly secrets. Fast-paced action and twists you will never see coming.

No cheating.

PROLOGUE

ANGEL

Aged 8

Ihave never seen my father so worried. I’m confused. He never shows emotion. He’s strong, fearless—unstoppable.

Mom is busy packing. Throwing random clothes into a large leather bag, chewing on her lip, tears burning in her eyes.

I say nothing. Words are mere distractions when lives change for the worse.

Dad stops, his expression frantic as the rumble of tires on gravel invades the tense silence.

“They’re here.”

Mom stops, her hands trembling as my father turns to me, and I don’t miss the urgency in his tone.

“Run Jay. Don’t look back and remember–”

His voice catches against the lump in his throat.

“No, John.”

Mom’s voice breaks as the tears spill down her smooth cheeks. Oddly, I have never seen her so beautiful. Perhaps grief brings out the inner beauty in a person. The rest of their soul shines as a little piece of it withers and dies.

“Jay.”

Dad turns to me, his expression grim, his features aging before me as he drops to his knees.

“Hide in the usual place and don’t come out until you hear my voice.”

He turns to mom.

“Go with him.”

I can tell she’s torn. Her lip trembles as if her entire life hinges on one decision.

I tug on my helmet a little tighter. I’m dressed as a soldier; I always am, and I say with the bravado of the delusional, “I’ll look after you, Mom.”

She wipes a tear away and nods, defeat already registering in the slump of her shoulders.

“Run.”

This time my father’s whisper holds more urgency, and as my feet fly over the carpet, I don’t look back. I dive through the open door, the wind whipping across my face as yells and calls from the front of the house alert me to intruders heading around the back.

Whoever they are, they came here mob handed and I don’t have much time.

I already accept that I’m alone. Mom won’t leave Dad. I have never seen two people so tied together on that invisible line that joins soulmates.

I’m good with that. I prefer it this way.

I notice the barn in the distance, home to several classic cars, my father’s obsession other than Mom. I edge inside, my lungs bursting, adrenalin driving away fear as I scan the dark room.

I dive under the Ford F-100, which is a perfect example of its time, and my heart beats wildly as I wait for my father’s voice.