Angel

by Lola Dodge

  I called room service for the wine and some extra snacks and started running hot water in the tub. Quan stripped off his jacket and sprawled on the sofa in our sitting room, but he couldn’t quite fit, and his feet hung over the arm. Something about the size of him…maybe his suppressed strength or easy confidence…

  Quan’s hot breath the back of my neck. His fierce orange gaze as he yanks Rich’s arm away—

  I might be drawn to Quan, but I couldn’t allow him a permanent place in my thoughts. Lust or not, I prided myself on my logic, and Quan was chaos in human form. Entanglement was not an option.

  When the room service arrived, I plucked out my bottle and glass and set the tray in front of Quan. “I ordered food for you. Can you be ready by seven tomorrow?”

  “Maybe.” Quan gave me a lazy, appraising gaze that made me feel very on display.

  I gripped the front of my jacket, drawing my lapels closer together. “Maybe?”

  “If you tell me what you’re investigating.” Quan rolled onto an elbow, but nothing about him seemed relaxed.

  Did I dare? I didn’t quite trust Quan, but I didn’t distrust him either. The man lived in a tree house, so it wasn’t as if he had a web of worldwide contacts to share information with. And frankly, I doubted he cared what I was looking into. Quan had to have some other agenda. “Does it matter?”

  “I like to know what I’m in for.” Quan smiled, flashing pointed canines. “Got to know who’s okay to kill.”

  My heart thumped too fast, but what was I reacting to? The threat in those teeth, or the way the smile made Quan’s eyes glow orange? The expression couldn’t be called cute when he was making threats, but somehow I couldn’t look away. “You’re not allowed to kill anyone.”

  “Boring.” He let out a breath. “How do you expect me to make it through the week like that?”

  Like a normal human being?

  But maybe that was asking too much when Quan was technically only part human. “I’m looking into connections between the L.A. Pack and an anti-hero organization.” That was all he needed to know and as much as I was willing to say. “I promise, if our lives are in danger, you can defend us however necessary.” The odds of that happening were so slim that I could make that promise knowing no one would get hurt.

  “That’s better.” Quan stretched luxuriously on the couch, lengthening his already long frame and giving a tantalizing glimpse of the muscle underneath his white dress shirt. Another image for the memory bank. “I have to get my claws on that Rich asshole.”

  I sucked in a breath, shifting from lust to logic in a nanosecond. “Absolutely not.”

  “He’s bad news.” Quan examined his fingernails, and it was safe to say he was visualizing claws. “Bad fucking news.”

  “His record is exemplary.” He was highly respected in the hero community, and I hadn’t sensed anything off with his behavior. Although my observation skills wouldn’t go into full effect until I’d spent more time with the man and had a database of conversations and expressions to compare. First impressions were limited.

  “That’s why he’s dangerous.”

  I couldn’t discount Quan’s opinion even if it seemed ridiculous. Maybe his nature gave him a sixth sense that I lacked. “I’ll take that into consideration, but please don’t go after him again.”

  “Nice.” Quan’s gaze traced up and down my body, and I inadvertently stepped backward as heat warmed my cheeks. “You’re hot when you’re not so fucking pissed at me.”

  My fingers twitched, almost reaching out to him.

  I whirled away before I could move closer. “See you in the morning.”

  After retreating with my wine, I locked the door behind me. What was happening to me? Quan couldn’t be that irresistible. No man was that irresistible.

  But still, my pulse fluttered.

  I needed some distance and some peace if I was going to get through the next days. Then he’d be gone and I’d be back to work as usual, if with a few added flesh memories.

  After having a good soak and putting a dent in my Pinot Gris, I should’ve been mellow, but between Quan and everything else on my plate, my brain was in overdrive. I hadn’t really prepped for my meetings tomorrow, but there’d be time in the morning, and I should’ve checked in with Tank and Ruin already. I needed to keep on top of things at the office.

  I did some e-mailing in my bathrobe, and it was midnight before I felt ready to quit for the evening. A dull headache made me queasy.

  I curled into bed, closed my eyes, and—

  Quan’s eyes, vivid orange, so close to me, his body pressed against mine.

  I refused to think about this.

  Tank’s back, firm against my chest, as he piggybacks me home after a long night, both of us smelling like cheap beer and cigarettes.

  Jenny lying on Tank’s couch, her pale gleaming shoulder, the concern in his eyes—

  Why this? Of all the memories?

  My abuela, a glass of spiced whiskey clutched in her wrinkled fingers. “Don’t live in the past, Lina. It will poison you.”

  Ha. There was some advice I wished I could take.

  Rather than toss and turn for hours, I grabbed my laptop and headed for the desk in the sitting room. Might as well do something productive.

  I cued up some FBI records and started sifting through the Pack’s phone logs. If I memorized enough entries, I might be able to spot a pattern.

  I’d been at it for at least an hour when Quan stumbled out of his bedroom, shirtless. My stomach tightened. At least he was wearing pants.

  Before my gaze could sweep down his body again, I locked my eyes on the computer screen.

  “What are you doing?” Quan padded closer, his feet silent against the carpet.

  “Just a little research.”

  “Now?”

  “Couldn’t sleep.” I flicked off the lamp, leaving only the glow of the laptop. “Do you need anything?”

  Quan leaned on the arm of the sofa, seeming more at ease in the darker room. “Do you ever rest?”

  “Every so often. What about you?” I hadn’t expected any 2 a.m. company.

  “Not with that typing.” His eyebrows lifted, amused rather than angry.

  “Sorry.” I shut the laptop and blinked into the darkness. “I’ll go back to my room.” One of us might as well sleep.

  “Nah. It’s fine. Just…”

  I could barely see him in the dark, and I didn’t like the mystery. I worked my bare toes against the carpet. Should’ve left the lamp on.

  “You seem tired.” Quan’s voice was surprisingly soft, but I couldn’t help a twinge of annoyance. Did everyone need to tell me that? Was I really so haggard all the time?

  “I don’t sleep much, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

  “No?” Suddenly Quan was standing much closer, only the desk separating us. “You need to take it down before you burn yourself to the ground.”

  “I don’t think you know me well enough to say that.”

  Quan stretching on the sofa, his muscles pulling against the fabric. His hot breath on the back of my neck as I head for the limo. Strong thighs pressing against me—

  “Maybe not.” Quan moved back into the shadows. “But my nose is never wrong.”

  I retreated to my bedroom.

  Maybe he didn’t know me, but I was getting more and more of him on permanent record. So far, I could deal with the level of recall he was causing, but if he got any closer…

  I’d need to keep my wits about me.

  Rather than dwelling, I dug into my files on the students for tomorrow. I’d already formed a short list of candidates, so all that was left was to meet and schedule a few one-on-one meetings. Then I had my own one-on-one with Rich to worry about.

  I’d play that one by ear. Rich would know what was going on with the
Pack if anyone would, but I didn’t want to step on his toes more than I already had or imply that he’d done anything wrong. The last thing we needed was to bring egos into the mix, especially when he seemed so eager to one-up the Ten. The messages the FBI had tracked could as easily be a trick as anything else, meant to lure nosy supers in for the slaughter.

  If someone internal was involved…

  Five supers had been murdered, and although Ivory had taken care of the actual killers, whoever had orchestrated the deaths was still at large.

  The victims deserved justice, and I’d do my part to get it for them.

  Chapter Nine

  Angel

  The day was a disaster by 9 a.m. As soon as the doors opened, a throng of students bee-lined to my booth. My table had started the morning lined with pamphlets and free pens and memo pads—now it held an unruly mountain of résumés, photo books and flash drives. Most students had provided videos of their powers, but for some reason, others felt that live demonstrations would win me over.

  A gust of wind whipped at the papers, sending them soaring as a wind-powered girl in a unitard showed off her skills.

  “No power demonstrations, please,” I raised my voice, for all the good it did. And please reconsider the yellow spandex bodysuit. As soon as the wind girl set her drive on the table, a boy stepped up and shimmering silver bubbles spilled from his palms. As he popped them, they each played a note of music, plinking to the tune of “Don’t Pass Me By”. Obscure Beatles songs weren’t winning him extra points.

  Quan stepped in for the seventh time. “No demonstrations.”

  The boy’s bubbles all popped in a discordant chorus of notes and he dropped a binder before slinking away. I wanted to bang my forehead against the table.

  Musical bubbles? How could that possibly help in investigations?

  Thank the sweet Lord for Quan. If he weren’t here, I would’ve drowned by now.

  Not one of these students would listen. My job regularly involved talking down drunk heroes, dealing with the paparazzi and wading through fierce legal battles, but my authority had no power with these kids, who were much too eager to show off.

  “No” seemed to be college slang for “please try harder”.

  When the doors closed for the noon lunch break and the last students trickled away, I wanted to collapse. Instead I put my head on my arms, resting on a pile of wrinkled résumés. Quan slipped into the chair at my side. “We really have to do that again?”

  “Those were just the freshmen and sophomores.” After lunch, the upperclassmen were up, and I was praying that the morning was an example of immaturity. It couldn’t be the same thing twice.

  It just couldn’t.

  My head would split open.

  I hadn’t realized that Quan had disappeared until he touched my arm with a cold glass of iced coffee. I wasn’t doing my supervisory duty very well today. “And where’d you get this?”

  “You’d be surprised what you can get when you flash fangs to a freshman.” Quan revealed his pointed canines in a sneaky smile.

  My pulse gave a traitorous thump. I should chastise him if he was really threatening students, but I couldn’t argue with his results. Coffee was absolutely necessary for my survival, and I liked that he’d provided it.

  Quan was oddly caring and observant for a man so eager to fight.

  If we ever got to a point where he was giving me regular smiles I wasn’t sure what I’d do about it. Probably panic, if anything.

  Only a few more days.

  He’d be out of my life once we got back to New York.

  When the doors closed for the night at 6 p.m., I was ready to crawl into a hole. I had a run in my stocking, a mind-splitting headache and about fifty pounds of charred résumés to read through thanks to a fire-powered senior. The show-offs had been in the minority in the afternoon, but it only took one or two to make a mess.

  We retreated to the hotel to get ready for the cocktail party. Getting dressed up and smiling was the last thing I wanted, but at least it gave me an excuse to wear my Nanette Lepore dress. The neckline was a little deep, but I was in love with the lacy black silhouette.

  After caking on concealer to cover my dark circles, I went with a bold orange-red lip, hoping it would draw attention from my crabby attitude. I needed to get my act together before meeting with Rich. Digging for information trumped all the recruitment hoopla.

  Quan stood as I entered the sitting room, his gaze sweeping me up and down. Luckily, I was wearing too much foundation to blush.

  “Looking good.”

  I could’ve said the same. Quan wore the more formal of his new suits featuring tortoiseshell buttons and sharp lapels. He held out his tie. “Little help?”

  “Of course.” I slipped the tie around his neck and started looping the fabric. He smelled as wild as the wind, and I tried to take short breaths to avoid inhaling too deep. Being this close made my skin prickle.

  “Sure you’re up for this?” he asked.

  “Are you?”

  He shrugged, forcing my hands to shift with his movement. “I say we skip it.”

  I was close to considering it, but with the way things were going, I’d never get another moment alone with Rich. I’d barely glimpsed him all day. “If only.”

  “If you want to cut out early, I’ll make a distraction.”

  That sounded better than it should, and he was reversing our roles. “Aren’t I supposed to say that?”

  “Yeah? Then you make the distraction. I’ll sneak off.”

  I swatted his shoulder, but a smile pulled at my lips. “Not likely.”

  Quan’s amusement bled away and he stared down with serious orange-brown eyes. “You look beautiful.”

  I wasn’t sure how to read that, and his tone wasn’t giving anything away. A courtesy compliment or something more?

  Courtesy. Definitely courtesy.

  I wasn’t ready to acknowledge that it could be anything else.

  When Quan’s tie was finished, I was more than glad to step back. “Let’s get this over with.” For once, I was betting I’d be able to get some sleep.

  If I lasted that long between the networking, conspiracies and tempting panther men.

  Quan

  I followed Angel to the car, not even trying to keep my eyes above the horizon.

  Her little black dress clung to every curve, and she’d finally let her hair down in dark waves that fell past her shoulders. I had eyes, so I’d known she was pretty, but this was taking my breath away.

  Brains and beauty.

  Mom would be so proud if I took Angel home, but there was taking home and taking home. Angel wasn’t the type of girl who played around. But she should. The smiling Angel was the best one yet.

  Chica seriously needed to rethink her career. We hopped in the limo and she was already on her phone, swiping through e-mails and texting.

  Always being in touch sounded shitty by my standards, but no one in this world seemed to care about solitude. I rubbed a thumb against the fabric of my suit. The modern world did have a few advantages. Nice threads. Juicy steaks. Little black dresses…

  Not that I was trading my jungle. Just visiting.

  Traffic fucking blew. We were bumper-to-bumper all the way to the party. When we pulled up to a massive glass and chrome tower, I was pretty sure we’d arrived. The whole area smelled like fresh paint and new asphalt.

  Apparently business was good.

  That explained the press circus. A velvet rope blocked off the crowd of photographers, and a stage was set with a photo backdrop filled with logos—mostly the L.A. Pack’s.

  I’d seen a few of their heroes at all these events. What pack?

  My tribe could tear them apart. Shit, just B and I could take down most of the so-called heroes strolling around.

  “You ca
n skip the photos.” Angel straightened her hair in the tinted window. “I’ll pose for some pictures and meet you on the other side.”

  I made a noncommittal grunt. We’ll see.

  She took a deep breath and tapped on the window. The driver opened the door and Angel stepped into a lightning storm of flashes. I winced at the light and barrage of shouts and questions, but stuck close to Angel’s side.

  As she started up the steps, I held back. It would be easy enough to cross behind the stage and leave her to it, but…

  She didn’t need to be up there alone. Whether that was me keeping my word to Balam or because I was starting to see the woman under the hard-ass disguise—whatever. I just couldn’t leave her hanging.

  I lunged over the two steps and reached the center of the stage at the same time as Angel.

  “What are you doing?” She spoke through a forced smile.

  “Showing the world how pretty I look in this suit.”

  Her lashes fluttered, and the forced smile bled into a real one. “Fair enough.”

  I’d eat that smile for breakfast.

  I slipped in behind Angel to glare at the photographers when it hit me like one of the camera flashes. My hand had somehow slipped to Angel’s shoulder. Her smooth skin felt like silk against my palm and it took everything I had to keep from pulling her into my chest to block the photos.

  Fuck.

  That was territorial as shit.

  Angel stared up at me, her plump lips parted. I started to lean in, then froze.

  I didn’t…

  That wasn’t…

  Fuck me.

  Chapter Ten

  Angel

  Quan’s hand touched my shoulder in a brush of flesh that made me shiver. I met his gaze as he stared deep into me, but I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.

  “You look beautiful.” Quan’s body hovering over mine. His hot breath on the back of my neck.

  Then Quan’s eyes widened. He pulled away like I’d just slapped him and strode across the stage.

  My fault? A few lenses flicked Quan’s way and I could already see the photographers brewing stories.