Angel (A Companion Book to Monster) (Impossible #1.5)

by Sykes, Julia

  “So,” I said, breaking the tense silence. “This is awkward.”

  But that had been a mistake. She turned her glare on me, spearing me with a baleful look.

  “I think you’re confusing the word ‘awkward’ with the term ‘completely fucked up,’” she snapped, her tone venomous. “‘Awkward’ is when you accidentally text the wrong person. ‘Awkward’ is when you trip over nothing and fall on your face. ‘Completely fucked up’ is when you kidnap a woman, threaten her with a gun, chain her to a bed, and tell her that life as she knows it is over. Can you see the difference there?”

  I instantly felt like shit. Okay, so I had fucked that up royally. Had I really thought that joking about what we were putting her through was a good idea? For the first time in my life, I had no idea how to act around a woman.

  “Okay, doc,” I said after a moment, forcing my tone to stay light. “You’re not up for chitchat. I get it.”

  The lines of her face tightened in fury. She opened her mouth as though to snap at me again, but she stopped abruptly. Bradley was coming back, and for all of her spirit, he clearly frightened her more than I did.

  As he stepped back into the room, he fished her cell phone out of her purse. “Alright,” he said to her. “You only have one missed call: Work.” He raised an eyebrow at her, considering. “So, it seems I don’t have to be too concerned about anyone missing you. I’m assuming that you don’t have a husband or a boyfriend? No one who would panic when you didn’t come home?”

  She blushed, embarrassment and something akin to shame in her eyes. But her resolve was back in the space of a moment; her resilience was astounding. She pursed her lips, holding Bradley in a furious stare as she nodded, confirming his assumption.

  He glanced down at her phone again. “Well, it seems there’s no one to contact but your work.” His gaze turned inward, considering. “What excuse should we give? Illness? No, you could get over that quickly.” He shot a hard look at me. Did he really resent me for not letting him kill her? “And since I don’t know how long you’ll be with us, that won’t be feasible,” he continued, still addressing her. He snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. “Your mother died. You have to go home and will be off work indefinitely.”

  Her glare intensified, the color draining from her cheeks as anger and a hint of pain drove away all traces of embarrassment. “You’re about fourteen years too late for that,” She hissed. “My parents died when I was thirteen.”

  Something in my chest twisted. I recognized that pain, recognized her attempt to conceal it, deny it. I had been doing the same for two years now, since my mother had died. And my father… I grimaced. He might be alive, but that was far from a blessing. I couldn’t imagine what my life would have been like if my mother had died when I was young, leaving me at his mercy. I wasn’t sure if I would have survived that. As it was, I had barely made through. But not unscathed.

  Instinctively, I reached out for her, drawn in by the urge to comfort her. But she rounded on me, glowering. I had been right before: she didn’t want me to touch her. So I clenched my hand to a fist, forcing it to remain at my side as I smoothed my features into blankness.

  Bradley didn’t seem to notice what had just passed between us, and I was grateful for that. I never allowed anyone to see that vulnerable side of myself, not even my best friend.

  He was focused on her, eyeing her skeptically. “How?” He demanded. My fist clenched tighter as I willed myself not to lash out at him. Couldn’t he see that she was in pain? Couldn’t he see how much thinking about their deaths hurt her, despite her best efforts to conceal it? Or was it possible that he just didn’t care?

  “Car crash,” she said tersely.

  Bradley studied her, his expression devoid of any pity. “Fine, then,” he continued. “Your foster mother died. I assume you were in the system?”

  Her eyes flashed again, anguish burning through her ire. She just nodded jerkily, as though she couldn’t bring herself to voice it aloud. What had this woman been through? And now we were adding a fresh layer of trauma to her life? I knew that Bradley had done this with my best interests at heart, but I was starting to hate him a little for it.

  “Okay,” Bradley said, his voice brusque and business-like. “I’m your foster-brother, and I’m calling to let them know that my mother has died. You’re coming to comfort me in this difficult time.”

  Her mouth twisted down in distaste, her eyes darkening like storm clouds.

  “What’s his name?” Bradley pressed her ruthlessly. “Your foster brother. You had one right? What’s his name?”

  I bit my tongue to stop myself from snapping at him to back off. We had to do this. It was the only way.

  “Marcus,” she hissed through gritted teeth, forcing the name out like a curse. “Marcus Ames.”

  I felt a surge of anger towards the faceless man who had obviously hurt her, causing her such pain when she was young and vulnerable that she had grown into this hard-hearted woman. It had made her strong, but I knew what a burden it was to have to constantly keep walls around your heart, containing the agony in order to keep your soul from splitting into a thousand pieces. My stomach churned at the realization that we were adding to her life’s trauma, and my anger turned in on myself.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Bradley warned her as he started dialing her work number.

  “Hi, this is Marcus Ames, Dr. Ellers’ brother,” he said into the receiver. There was a pause, and he scowled down at her. “I’m her foster brother,” he explained. “She hasn’t mentioned me?” Bradley glowered, and his hand twitched towards the gun. I tensed again, ready to fight him if he went for it. I pinned him with a menacing stare. Sensing my silent threat, he glanced in my direction. He held my gaze for a heartbeat, then frowned and lowered his hand.

  “Well, she asked me to call,” he plowed on. “My mother has died, and Claudia has come home to help make funeral arrangements. She wanted me to let you know that she won’t be able to come in, and she’s not sure when she might be ready to return to work. She’s pretty torn up about it.”

  Another pause. Bradley’s frown deepened.

  “Alright,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ll put her on.”

  He held the phone to her face so that she could speak into it. This time he resolutely ignored me and placed his hand on the gun. “Back me up, bitch,” he hissed.

  Bitch. Why was he being such an ass? It was one thing to intimidate her in order to protect ourselves, but this level of abuse was unnecessarily cruel. She glanced up at Bradley, and the shadow of fear passed over her eyes again.

  “Ava,” she said into the receiver, her voice ragged. I knew that it was rough from her growing terror, but it would work to our advantage; she really did sound upset. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. I just found out that Darla… That my foster mom died.” She seemed to trip over the name, again betraying the pain that she had suffered at the hands of her foster family.

  “Thanks.” Her face went impossibly paler as she forced herself to thank the woman for buying her story, for sealing her fate.

  Bradley ended the call. His eyes were burning as he stared her down.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that they didn’t know about your foster family?” He demanded.

  “You didn’t ask,” she replied levelly.

  He let out a low growl, his arms flexing as he took a threatening step towards her.

  “Bradley!” I said his name sharply, trying to get him to snap out of his new dark persona. I forced myself to sit up, my muscles coiled as I prepared to defend her. “Leave it,” I ordered. Bradley’s glare rounded on me, and I held it, refusing to back down.

  But the longer I held my threatening stance, the more I became aware of the punishing pain in my shoulder. There was a rushing sound in my ears, and it was growing louder with every beat of my heart. My head was spinning, but I resolutely refused to back down, to leave her vulnerable.

  “Shit,” Bradley muttered, all menac
e suddenly leaving him. Concern filled his eyes, melting away the furious glare that had twisted his features into something horrible and unfamiliar to me. This was who he was; this was my friend.

  Now that he was no longer threatening her, I allowed myself to let go. The pain engulfed me as my shoulder was jarred against the bed. I closed my eyes, trying to force it away. But it was cruel and unrelenting, and my awareness of the world around me was wavering in the wake of its onslaught.

  “What’s wrong?” I heard Bradley’s voice. That harsh edge colored his tone once again, but I could hear a thread of panic there as well. “I thought you said he would be fine.”

  “Well, he would be if he didn’t have to keep straining himself because of your hot head,” she snapped back at him. There was the soft clanking sound of the handcuffs against the bedpost, and she let out a soft curse. “Can’t you take these off? I kind of need my hands to do this.”

  There was a pause.

  I forced my eyes open, willing the world to solidify around me. “For fuck’s sake, Bradley,” I ground out through gritted teeth. “What could she possibly do to hurt me?”

  Bradley’s expression softened as he regarded me, taking in my weakened state, and he unlocked the handcuffs. She rubbed her wrist, and I could see a light, purplish bruise marring her delicate skin. Guilt washed over me again, accompanied by more anger at Bradley for putting her in this situation. Those were my handcuffs. And they certainly weren’t meant to be used like that.

  She moved toward me carefully, her hands gentle as she began to unwrap the gauze from around my chest. Now that she was so close to me, I could smell her delicious, feminine scent: cotton and roses. It infused the air around me, captivating me. I knew that I was staring, but I couldn’t help but watch her intently as she worked. She didn’t meet my eye; she was completely engrossed in her task, and a little crease appeared between her brows when she revealed the angry red hole in my chest. Was she really concerned for me? After everything we had done to her?

  She’s a doctor, I reminded myself harshly. Of course it was ingrained in her to help people who were hurting. It had nothing to do with me personally.

  Bradley was looking on anxiously. “You look like shit, buddy,” he told me.

  Despite the pain, I couldn’t help smiling at him, putting on a good face to erase the lines of worry around his eyes. “I’ve had a rough day,” I retorted, struggling to keep my tone light. “What’s your excuse?” I tried to laugh, but that was a mistake. I gritted my teeth to hold back my cry; I didn’t want to voice my pain. Bradley was already so on edge, and I didn’t want to upset him further. Especially considering how unstable he was right now.

  But the room was flickering in and out of existence around me. I was being pulled under, swirling down into darkness.

  “Give him more of your blood, doc,” I heard Bradley order.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said flatly. “I’m fresh out of spare blood today.”

  Bradley snarled at her. “Give it to him. He needs it.”

  She gave me her blood? I thought incredulously. Surely that went far beyond what her duties as a doctor demanded. Why would she go to such lengths to save a stranger? A criminal who didn’t deserve saving?

  “No. I’d rather live long enough to finish treating him, thanks,” her voice floated down to me. “If you want to kill me, shooting me would be much faster, you know.”

  I tried to struggle through the darkness, but it pressed against me, weighing me down. I couldn’t let Bradley force her to do that. Not for me. Not after everything she had already done.

  “Look,” she said gently. “If I give him my blood, I’ll die. And then there will be no one here to help him. Just trust me.”

  There was a long silence, but Bradley must have backed off because I could feel the needle tugging at my skin again as she returned to her work. With the knowledge that she was safe, I succumbed to the blackness, giving in to the merciful release from my pain brought on by unconsciousness.

  Chapter 2

  Agony. It lashed at me mercilessly, breaking through the dark waters that sheltered me and pulling me ruthlessly back to the surface. I was disoriented, my thoughts sluggish and half-formed.

  I blinked, and my eyes focused on a familiar cracked ceiling. I was in my own room. And I wasn’t alone. The balance of the mattress told me that there was someone on the bed beside me, a woman judging by the delicious scent that surrounded me. Besides, the likelihood of me finding a man in my bed was slim to none. The pounding in my head told me that I had been really fucked up the night before. Shit, how much had I had to drink? This was the most wicked hangover of my life.

  I felt a little guilty as I searched my mind for memories of sex and found none.

  I looked over to find one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen lying beside me. A Cheshire cat grin broke out on my face as a sense of masculine satisfaction at having lured such a prize into my bed washed over me. It seemed I hadn’t been too drunk to have my game face on.

  “Hi, gorgeous,” I gave her a heated look that always made women melt for me. I would need it to make up for the admission that I was about to make. “No offense, sweetie, but I don’t really remember last night.” I allowed my gaze to rove up and down her body appreciatively, expecting her to flush pleasurably. Something glinted in the morning light, catching my attention: she was handcuffed to my bed. My grin widened of its own accord. It seemed that this beauty shared my tastes, then. “And I must say that I’m very sorry for that,” I said, truly regretful. “Looks like it was a good time.”

  She gasped, shocked at my words.

  Shit. It seemed I had blown it with her after all. No hope for round two this morning, then. Well, to be honest I felt too crappy to fuck right now.

  “Listen, jackass,” she snapped. “I didn’t sleep with you. I saved your life, in case you don’t recall. That pain in your shoulder isn’t a sex sprain. You were shot, idiot. Besides,” she added with venom, “I don’t really care to sleep with you after what you’ve done to me. You’re holding me hostage, remember?” She jerked at the cuffs for emphasis.

  Oh, fuck. Reality came crashing back down on me. I couldn’t believe that I had just leered at her like that. Hot shame flooded my stomach as I remembered what Bradley had done, how I had ripped this woman’s life away from her and been complicit in terrorizing her into compliance.

  I glanced at the cuffs again, and all of the lustful thoughts that had been stirring at the sight of them now made me feel sick. Bradley must have restrained her again after I passed out. Anger lanced through me as I remembered her bruised skin. There had been no need for him to do that to her. All she had known at our hands was terror and abuse, and now I had tried to make a move on her. It was probably the most abhorrent thing I could have possibly done.

  “Oh. Yeah,” I said lamely.

  “Yeah,” she spat the word.

  I sighed heavily, then had to hold back a grunt as the resultant pain hit me. Yep, that was definitely way worse than a sex sprain.

  “How are you feeling?” She asked gently. I glanced up at her, amazed to see nothing but compassion in her eyes. How could she be so kind to me when I was putting her through hell?

  “Fine,” I said, and I wasn’t sure if it was pain or guilt that made me force the words through gritted teeth.

  She snorted at me derisively. “Uh-huh,” She said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “Because you look just fine. You were shot, you’ve been unconscious for hours, and you haven’t had any pain killers.” She speared me with an I’ll-have-none-of-your-nonsense look. “I’m a doctor. Don’t think you can lie to me.” Then I heard her mutter, “Men.”

  My chuckle quickly turned to a hiss of pain, but my smile was back in place only moments later. I couldn’t help but be charmed by her imperious air. Seeing this fragile woman trying to boss me around was undeniably amusing.

  “I’m not going to get anything past you, am I, doc?” I grinned at her, teasing.


  She looked indignant, which if anything only made her cuter.

  “I have a name, you know.” Her snappish tone did nothing to quell my amusement. “It’s Dr. Ellers.”

  Oh, I was going to have fun toying with her. “I thought you said your name was Claudia.”

  “You can call me Dr. Ellers,” she said more emphatically. She was rising to my bait.

  “I like Claudia,” I insisted. “It’s pretty. Unless you prefer ‘doc’.” I knew that she didn’t, and I enjoyed watching her wrestle with her irritation at me.

  “Fine.” She threw up her hands up in exasperation. But then she let out a small cry as the cuff jerked at her cruelly. I was again struck by anger. I needed to get that key from Bradley and get her free. It wasn’t right that she should be in pain on top of everything else she was going through.

  I frowned. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I warned, not wanting her to fight against her restraints lest she cause herself further damage.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t, would you?” She snapped. “Thanks for that sage advice.”

  I hated this, hated her pain and the disgust for me that I saw in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, as though those two words were enough to rectify my actions. But I knew that nothing I could do would ever be enough to atone for this, to repay her for what she had done for me. “And thank you,” I added. “For saving my life.”

  Her eyes widened, taken aback. I watched as the hatred faded from them, replaced by a gentleness that made my heart squeeze. I didn’t deserve that look.

  “You’re welcome,” she said softly.

  She blinked, her eyes quickly darkening once again as her moment of softness passed. “But you do realize that as a doctor I was compelled to save your life by the Hippocratic Oath; don’t think that I harbor any particular affection for you. In fact, it’s just the opposite. I should have just let you die. Only, your douchebag friend didn’t really give me an option.”