Page 12 of Angel

It turns out I met an angel that night.

Once inside, I felt shaken but intrigued. At the after-party, a man approached me, and I knew it was him. His eyes burned into mine as he stepped forward, no security holding him back, marking him as safe.

He leaned down and whispered, “Sophie Clere. If you’re interested, I may have a proposition for you.”

Something about the man stole my breath. I was drawn to him: the intrigue, the danger even.

I nodded, my gaze burning with curiosity, and as he took my hand, he led me onto the dance floor and pulled me in close.

I danced with him that night as he whispered promises in my ear.

Work for him. Help rid the town of the evil scum that hovered on the edges of darkness.

His touch was strong, his scent like kryptonite, and as his hand curled around my waist, I was more than interested.

I asked his name; he told me one word. Angel. When he asked for my number I didn’t hesitate.

Then he left. The only indication he had ever been there lay in the imprint of his touch on my skin.

It’s what happened when I met him later that night that signed my soul over to the devil.

The next time I heard from him came via text. He wanted me to escort someone to a restaurant that was hard to get a table at. I thought it would be him. It wasn’t.

It turned out to be the CEO of a steel company. When we entered the restaurant, the waiter escorted us to the table of a senator who gave me the chills as his gaze seared my flesh. His interest was evident, yet the man by my side appeared to hold as much power, or so it seemed.

They spoke of business, something about a shipment. I tuned out. When we left, my companion kissed the back of my hand and thanked me for the invitation to dinner. He settled the check, as they always do, and the next day a gift arrived with the compliments of Angel. A diamond choker that probably cost thousands of dollars.

Over the past months, many favors were rewarded by similar gifts. Usually jewelry, a watch, the latest designer handbag, gift certificates, and expensive perfume. I am caught up in the intrigue, loving the thrill of it. Never knowing what I’m needed for, a different escort every time.

Then it struck me one night. They could be just what I need. I came to Hollywood for more than just my acting career. It turns out that revenge was the driving factor. I learned this is where he lives. The man who destroyed my family, and I’ve waited and learned, gathering knowledge on the Wild Angels and how they operate, and now it’s time to use them for once.

This time they can pay me in blood.

“Sophie.”

I jump, the bourbon swirling in the glass as the chill from the ocean whips around my almost naked skin.

I half-turn, my heart beating wildly as I regard the figure who slipped through the floor to ceiling windows from the balcony outside.

“You should lock your doors at night.”

His husky whisper causes my heart to race as he stands, illuminated by the moonlight, a ghostly figure in leather. His face is half covered with a skeleton mask, his piercing blue eyes the only life in the darkness, his hair wild from the breeze, his power unquestionable.

“Angel?” I ask, and he nods.

“Of course.”

It is not the same man I met before. What the hell does that mean?

I place the glass on the table and regarded him coolly, something telling me this man would be extremely bad for my health.

“You’re not the man I met at the premiere.”

He shrugs. “How do you know? That was months ago.”

I move a little closer.

“He had brown eyes.”