Page 43 of Angel

His hold tightens; sweat gliding down his face.

“I will send a car. 8 pm Saturday. Pack a bag; we are sailing overnight.”

I swallow the bile in my throat and attempt to look interested, all the time knowing I have no intention of being on the boat. A note of apology, my sincere regret, and hopefully a busy schedule to keep the wolf from the door should be a way out of this.

I curse the fact that I’m in this position now, and as soon as the dance ends, I wriggle from his grasp and smile brightly.

“If you’ll excuse me, Sam, I must be leaving. It was great to see you again. Until Saturday.”

I don’t give him a chance to reply and sweep out of the room as if a hornet’s nest is in pursuit, and as I stumble out of the ballroom, I hope like hell my car is waiting for me.

CHAPTER 16

ANGEL

There are no prizes for guessing what that conversation involved and I can read Sophie’s expressions like a well-thumbed book. Sam Goodman is known for his love of the leading ladies, and I have no doubt that Sophie is the next one on his list.

The way she ran amused me. I’m guessing that whatever he said didn’t go down well and as I finish up with Victor, I leave with another million dollar contract in the bag and the promise of a delicious nightcap to end the evening.

Once again, I walk home. The streets are still busy, then again they always are.

I notice the heat the minute I round the corner. Two young men lounging against the wall. Another two walking behind me.

I’m guessing I’m quite the target in my expensive suit, wearing a watch that cost more than they will ever make doing an honest day’s work in their lifetime. It’s no wonder crime is the attractive option. I almost pity them. Almost.

As I approach, they step in front of me, a wall of menace, and the other two close in from behind.

“Empty your pockets.” The ringleader hisses and I glare into his eyes.

“Now, why would I do that?”

“You got a death wish, then.”

He removes a blade that glints in the moonlight, and his sneer of contempt is designed to humiliate me.

I’ve seen it all before.

“Have you?”

In one swift move, I remove the gun from my back pocket and point it at his head. With my other hand, I remove the gas grenade and throw it behind me, careful to step aside as they fall forward, gasping for air. The first guy lunges forward and my shot hits him clean in the knee, causing him to squeal like a pig, choking on the fumes from the gas.

It helps that I keep a respirator in my pocket and as I step over the bodies, I carry on walking, leaving my assailants to rue the day they ever pulled a blade on me.

A few witnesses avert their gaze as I pass. If they called the cops, it wouldn’t bother me. It was self defense. I know my rights and as nobody was badly injured, save for a blown kneecap, my lawyer would make the case disappear.

I’m not afraid of this town. To walk the streets at night alone. I am prepared, always one or two steps ahead, and most of the time I am left in peace. These guys must have been new around here. They have learned a hard lesson. I may return to teach them an even harder one if they continue with their trade because crime on the streets of Los Angeles has shrunk since The Wild Angels took over policing them.

I make it to my block and the doorman nods respectfully.

“Sir.”

I stop. “I have a visitor at midnight. A woman. She will be holding my business card. Her name is Sophie Clere.”

He nods. “Of course, sir. I will watch out for her.”

“Send her straight up. There is no need to call me.”

I drop another hundred into his palm, which he pockets discreetly.