Page 67 of Angel

Those eyes, they destroy me in seconds, and as he swings his leg off the bike, he reaches for my hand.

“This won’t take long.”

Why do I wish he hadn’t said that?

He pulls me over to the bench and we sit shoulder to shoulder; the view before us is serene when my mind is anything but.

“Your stalker has a history of messing up whores.”

I shiver inside.

“He was captured on camera before the night he murdered Giovanni. We are currently locating the woman seen with him for clues to his identity.”

“You haven’t found him yet?”

“No.”

His voice is low, deep, and husky, and I love every syllable that spills from his lips.

“The party on Sam Goodman’s yacht.”

I shift, trying to get a better look at him, but the angle we are sitting at makes it almost impossible.

“There will be a man there, Emilio Martinez. He is a man of considerable importance to The Wild Angels.”

In a way, my heart sinks because this is obviously business. I really hoped it was more than that. Apparently, that’s all I am to him.

“We want any information on him. He is invited for a reason. Sam may be involving himself with something best left on the shoreline.”

“Like what?”

I’m always intrigued by the missions I’m set, even though I am rarely told the whole story.

“People trafficking.”

I wasn’t expecting that and gasp. “Are you kidding me? I can’t believe the executive producer of a Hollywood studio would find the need to get involved in that. For what reason? He has money, contacts; a nice life by all accounts. It doesn’t make sense.”

Angel shrugs. “They always want more. Plus, men like Martinez target those in powerful positions. They have many uses and what better organization to hide this shit than in an industry that employs thousands of people on short-term contracts. We need your help with that. Listen, look and absorb and report back anything suspicious.”

“I will. Of course.”

My mind is tripping right now because it’s as if nothing around me is real anymore.

Then Angel whispers in his husky drawl. “Tell me about Jason Prince.”

It’s as if he pulled a gun on me. I freeze, my mind emptying.

He turns and I swear my heart gives up already as those powerful eyes rip through my soul.

He reaches up, his fingers grasping my chin, tilting it up to face him, his expression fierce.

Is he jealous? God, I hope he is, because then it would show I mean something to him.

“I, I⁠—”

I swallow, desperately searching for words to describe my situation, and I cling onto the only thing I have.

“You told me to make contact with him.”