Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Like the trained soldiers they are, every Cerberus member moves in that direction, circling Angel and forcing him to join them.
Muffled sobs come from Grace. Faith, Legend’s woman, has taken his place and comforts Grace with light pats on the back and whispered words I’m unable to hear.
Cara, the only other person in the room that recognizes Angel, looks around for answers she will never find.
I wait until the conference room door slams closed before making my way to it.
I knock, only for Dominic, Kincaid’s older brother, to open it.
“This is club business,” Kincaid snaps from the front of the room.
A split second later, the door is closed right in my face.
Chapter 5
Angel
“You need to calm down or you’re going to be asked to leave,” a guy snaps as he holds a Cerberus member back.
If I had to guess, the pissed-off man has staked a claim on that crying woman.
I recognize her from a job a while back. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find out that she ended up here after I sold her.
She wasn’t part of my job, and sometimes I have to play the role I’m given. Selling women, being uncertain of what will happen after they’re gone, doesn’t normally bother me, but the angry man looks like he’d give his life for her, and that makes me feel a little guilty in the role I played in her demise.
“That man—” he snarls.
“Didn’t fucking touch her,” I hiss back.
I hate nothing more than wasting fucking time, and if we don’t get to the point quickly, I’m liable to lose my fucking cool.
“Maybe not, but you watched her fucking shower after abducting her,” he rages. “You did nothing to help her. Fucking sold her to some fucking creep and just went on about your fucking day.”
“Someone better start fucking explaining,” another man yells, seemingly just as angry as the first guy.
“He’s a mercenary,” Kincaid says.
My eyes snap in his direction. I don’t like being on anyone’s radar, much less the president of some desert do-gooder club.
“I was working a case. What I do isn’t any different from what—”
“That’s not going to help your case,” Thumper interrupts.
“We’re nothing like you,” someone else spits. “Cash doesn’t control what cases we take. We don’t hurt others to get the job done.”
“Angel,” Thumper says. “Why are you here?”
I take a deep breath. Being hated isn’t a new thing for me. I seldomly meet a person who walks away much less walks away with a good opinion of me.
“I was working in Telluride,” I explain, wishing I’d just dropped that little girl off on their front doorstep and drove away. But if she died because of the temperatures outside, that would be on me. I don’t like blame. It makes my skin itch.
The atmosphere in the room changes some, but I continue. I don’t know how long these men will let me explain before all hell breaks loose and one of them tries to put an end to me.
“I thought your man was there for the same reason, but he left before getting anything done.”
“I thought you were dead,” Thumper says, digging up shit that has long been buried.
But how is he to know that the Angel he thought he knew is dead?
I can’t think of El Salvador, or the way my heart jumped at seeing Lauren Vos in the fucking living room.
I don’t often let betrayal seep into my bones, but that fucking woman makes me see red.
Had Thumper not been taken, I know he never would’ve left me bleeding out on the floor like she did.
He wouldn’t have left me for the cleanup crew to discover. It took me eight months to get away from that group of deranged assholes.
“I saw you go down. Lauren said you were still on the floor when she left with Cara, Penny, and Amanda,” Thumper continues.
His words confirm what I already knew, but they still somehow have the power to anger me.
Lauren said.
I bet Lauren said a lot of fucking things.
But I’m not here for Lauren.
“Everyone, sit the fuck down!” Kincaid roars, and the men in the room move like the robots that they are, pulling out chairs and dropping their asses down.
It seems Kincaid is a good teacher as well. I respect the man for it.
Wielding such power over a group of testosterone-riddled men can’t be easy.
Even the pissed man who feels the need to defend what happened in his woman’s past takes a seat, but he never drops the rage from his eyes. He’s twitchy with it. I know without question if we were left in a room alone, he’d try everything in his power to rip my throat out.
Good for him. Having goals is important.
“What’s your full name?” a guy in the corner asks, his fingers hovering over a keyboard.
“You’re not going to find shit on me, techie,” I say, smirking when the man lifts an eyebrow in challenge.