Page 95 of Angel

“You were always meant to be my wife, Sophie. Wouldn’t it honor their memories if we fulfilled their expectations and our destinies?”

He turns, his gaze sharp, commanding, so sure of himself, and he whispers in a tone laced with threats, “You see, you were always mine, Sophie, you merely didn’t realize that.”

His fingers stroke my bare leg through the side split, and he leans across and whispers in my ear, “Did you like the flowers, baby girl?”

I pull away and his nails dig into my skin as he hisses, “Say nothing, do nothing and react to nothing if you don’t want the same fate to befall your adopted parents that happened to your real ones. You will never escape your destiny, Sophie, and I am here to take you home where you always belonged.”

He nods toward Jason, who is deep in conversation with his date.

“Gosia will entertain your friend. He will enjoy every minute of it. You, my darling, will remain with me and if he has a problem with that, he can always swim home. I don’t rate his chances though, as it’s a little risky with a bullet in your leg and there are many sharks in these waters that would enjoy a fine meal tonight.”

I feel sick, my mind buzzing and my heart breaking. We were set up. I was set up. It was never Sam; I was brought here for this man and there is no way out. The shoreline had disappeared, and I am stuck on a boat for the entire weekend with a monster.

CHAPTER 38

ANGEL

It struck me as soon as Martinez came over that this was the hidden agenda. The way he gazed at Sophie with triumph told me he was the reason for the invitation.

As the event unfolded, I knew better than to argue with it. We are on a boat with nowhere to hide and he is the man who wrote the script. I will buy us some time while I figure this shit out.

Gabriel was right, this gathering is of interest and who better to ask than a woman who would rather be somewhere else entirely?

As we head to the side of the boat, I make certain to face the rail, asking a nearby steward to fetch us a couple of champagne cocktails. I dash out a quick text to the committee and then pocket my phone, turning on the charm for once.

“I’m Jason Prince and you are?”

“Um, Gosia.”

She smiles, her expression heavy with resignation.

“How do you know Mr. Martinez?”

“I don’t.” She shrugs. “I was brought here and told I was to entertain the guests. He is the one I was assigned to.”

“Who do you work for?”

She shifts as if uncomfortable, and I soften my tone.

“It’s okay. I understand the business you are in and any conversation we have will never be repeated. I just need to gather information.”

“I work for Mr. Martinez, but I have never met him.”

I doubt she’s lying. Men like Martinez run a huge network of prostitution, drugs, gambling and intimidation. What concerns me is that he’s in my town and the last thing we need is him deciding to set up shop in Los Angeles.

“Where did you come from?”

“Originally Poland, but then I was offered a new life in Miami. We have traveled here from there.”

“On a private jet?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“There were eight of us and our manager.”

“Is he here?”