Page 39 of Angel

Tonight I am staying at my penthouse in the city. It’s not far from Sophie’s. I will remain here until the mission is over. She will never come to the mansion. That would be too close. There are too many questions requiring answers I’m unprepared to give. Angel lives in the Bel Air mansion. Jason Prince resides in the city.

Harrington remains at the mansion. He will run the operation from there as usual, notifying me of what I need to know. My right hand and left-hand man. He is the organizer. I can’t operate without him.

I have no staff at the penthouse, merely a housekeeper who comes in every morning from an agency servicing most of the penthouses in Los Angeles.

The gala is another tedious event Gabriel insists I attend. He sees the importance of networking and rather than do it himself; he sends me.

My AI search engine has nothing to do with him. I am the brains behind it. He has other skills. Skills far above mine. Far above most people’s actually. It’s precisely why he lives alone, locked away. He rarely ventures out. Doesn’t entertain and prefers the company of his trusted assistant, Garrity.

I am his eyes and ears in a hostile world, and yet if he were aware of my intentions tonight, he would forbid me to leave the apartment.

He will soon learn that I am doing this for the good of the organization. Which in turn means him.

Gabriel believes he knows everything. He knows shit about things concerning emotions.

* * *

I decide to walk to the gala. Not many people do, but I’m an enigma in a city of famous faces. I blend in with the crowd. I always have, and I prefer to tread the concrete because I’m more at home there than in the back of a limo playing at being important.

I am dressed for the gala in a black tuxedo. My shirt is also black, no tie. I can’t stand them.

Many consider me to be eccentric. I disagree. I’m just too rich to care what others think.

A homeless man shuffles out of a doorway.

“Spare some change for a man down on his luck, sir.”

He falls into step beside me, dragging his trolley behind him.

“Tell me something I don’t know, and it’s yours.”

It’s common knowledge that Jason Prince rewards information. Many believe it’s linked to my business. It is. My other business operates in the shadows. Nobody but a very select few knows about that, and I have no reason to enlighten them. My search engine is my cover story for a different one, and I am interested to hear what he has to say.

“The dude who offed Giovanni is no angel, sir.”

“Angel?”

I act confused.

“You know, sir. The MC who rules the streets. He disguised himself as one of them.”

“Why does that information help me?”

I shrug it off. I’m good at that.

“You tell me, sir. I don’t have a clue how that shit works. Perhaps you can feed your machine, and the killer’s name will pop out the other side.”

I chuckle.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

He tries again.

“Word is he’s a rich dude. Not from the streets, if you get my meaning.”

“What makes you say that?”

My interest sharpens.