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My phone rang.
I glanced at the screen.
Deacon.
Miguel snatched the phone from me, pressed the ‘answer’ button and shoved the cell in my face.
“Hello?” I said tentatively.
“Angel,” Deacon’s voice was rough and urgent, “you need to get out of there.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Angel, it’s—”
Before he could finish, the bathroom door exploded, spitting Peter into the room. I screamed.
My phone fell to the ground with a sickening crack.
“There you are,” Peter said eerily.
“Were you looking for me?” I edged away from both men. “There’s no need. I’m almost finished in here.”
Peter offered a hand. “Let’s go now. My wife is waiting.”
Miguel shoved me back and leaped at Peter. The two men started throwing punches, but it was clear that Peter was the better fighter.
He subdued Miguel in three moves, ending his assault with an elbow-drive to the neck that reminded me of what Deacon had done to him in San Pedro.
Miguel crumpled to the ground.
“Miguel!” I shrieked, rushing to his side. My head shot up and I seared Peter with an accusatory glare. “Who the heck are you?”
Peter advanced. Gone was the scared and insecure stride. Now, he moved with a vicious swagger. I scooted back, crawling in the opposite direction to get away from him.
His lips peeled away from his teeth, revealing a dark, unsettling smile. It was like staring into the face of a completely different person.
“You’re too trusting, Angel.” He taunted.
“D-don’t come near me.”
“It’s a shame I couldn’t get to know you better.”
“Help!” I looked past him to the open bathroom door. “Somebody, hel—”
Peter swooped in. I saw his fist colliding with my face and a moment later, everything went black.
33
Angel
Light pricked the back of my eyelids. Heavy boulders pinned my lashes down. I started to open my eyes, but something told me that the darkness was safer than the light.
My head ached.
In the distance, I heard voices, but I wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined.
“She’s rousing,” a female said.
