Reaping Angels

  Executioner

  “That’s not good, Angel,” I finally said, standing up.

  In fact, it was very, very fucking bad, now that I’d had a change of plans.

  I was supposed to leave her here. But now that the Cruel Countess knew our location, she could no longer stay.

  The Gambler let out a small noise, reminding me that the fucker had burrowed into my mind and taken over.

  No tolerance.

  I turned on the Gambler.

  Don’t kill him. Not in front of Angel. She’ll never forgive you.

  I grabbed the Gambler. “Get. Out. Of. My. Fucking. Head,” I said as his screams started up again.

  Killing him took seconds. It should’ve taken longer. Would’ve, if Angel hadn’t stood at my back. He’d been right about that. I curbed my violence because of her.

  I dropped him only once a blackened husk remained. As his body collapsed on the ground, flakes of ash drifted off of him.

  Angel staggered back at the sight. “Christ.”

  It didn’t matter at this point if she loved me or hated me. Keeping her safe was my top priority, and it got just a little bit harder now that there was nowhere safe to leave her. If the Cruel Countess somehow figured out what we just did—that I could halt her rapid healing—she’d use me against Angel.

  Another liability. One neither of us would survive.

  I rubbed my lower lip. She had to come with me then. And then, when the time was right, I’d have to abandon her.

  Angel

  When X turned the car into the marina, I glanced around. He’d kept ominously quiet, his knuckles white from gripping the wheel. I’d thought it wise to leave him be. The last person to piss him off ended up as a pile of ash.

  But staring out at the open waters that would take me away from land, away from my sister—I was done with his mantrum.

  “I’m not fleeing with you, X,” I said, my hand going to the car handle. I’d jump out if it came to it.

  Something fierce and possessive clouded his expression. “Let go of the door, Angel. We’re not running.”

  “Then why are we here?” I asked, taking in the rows of moored boats.

  “The Cruel Countess doesn’t exactly live on land.”

  I could’ve used that piece of information a bit earlier. It made me wonder what else X had kept from me.

  He’d been so gentle last night. I’d almost forgotten all that this man was capable of.

  He killed for you, Angel. For your sister. And he was coming with me, heading towards what could surely be his death if all that he said about the Cruel Countess was true.

  He’s not just the cold-hearted brute I took him for, I thought as I watched him. My throat worked. It was so much easier when I thought of X as such. Then he’d been expendable. Now the thought of him going into the Cruel Countess’s fortress did uncomfortable things to my stomach.

  “So where does the Cruel Countess live?” I asked, returning my thoughts to the task at hand. “On the water?”

  X shook his head. “Not on the water—beneath it.”

  The Executioner didn’t just own expansive homes. He had at least one boat as well.

  “This is yours?” I asked, staring down what looked like some combination of yacht and powerboat. It had a streamline design, a railed-in space to sit or lay along the bow, and a semi-enclosed cockpit and possibly an interior room below deck.

  “Company boat,” X explained, heading up the gangway with our bags.

  I spent the next ten minutes helping X unmoor the boat and watching him in front of the captain’s chair as he powered it up. The navigation system was much more modernized than what I was used to, but the same concepts applied. Wheel, throttle, and levers and buttons for the anchor, lights, and so on.

  As soon as we hit open ocean, he gunned the engine. We skipped over swells, and the wind whipped my hair behind me.

  “Know how to use scuba gear?” he yelled over the sound of the engine.

  Vaguely. I’d begun taking a class a couple years ago, but after garnering too many onlookers, the instructor quietly asked me to reschedule for private lessons. I never did.

  “Yeah,” I said. Not wholly a lie.

  X stared at me long enough for me to think he didn’t believe me, but eventually he nodded. “Gear’s below deck.”

  I squinted. “How long will it take to get there?”

  “Twelve hours, give or take.”

  “Twelve hours?” The clock in X’s car had read that it was a little after one in the morning. That put our arrival sometime in the afternoon. “I thought you said it was just off the coast?”

  “It is. The Caribbean is a large body of water.”

  Twelve hours. Twelve hours for the Cruel Countess to tear into my sister. Twelve hours to worry we wouldn’t pull this off. Twelve hours to not give into my desire for this man.

  I left the cockpit and headed for the bow, where the tip of the boat cut through water. Twelve hours.

  And then we’d get my sister back.

  After about an hour of driving, X came out from behind the helm with a beer in either hand. He found me on the deck, where I brooded, anxious.

  “Pacifico?” X asked, holding out one of the drinks.

  “Please,” I said, taking it from him.

  I took a swig of the beer while X sat down, leaning against the sloped windows of his boat.

  “Don’t you need to keep steering?” I asked.

  “I set the navigation system to autopilot.”

  “Ah.”

  Setting his drink aside, X unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off. Then he grabbed the edges of his long-sleeved shirt and pulled it over his head.

  I lowered the Pacifico from my face and watched him. Hard stomach muscles rippled.

  Holy mother of … that body just wasn’t fair.

  X caught me looking and he raised a brow.

  “It’s all so white—that’s why I’m staring,” I said, bringing the beer back to my lips.

  I sat down next to him, despite my legs having the jitters.

  “I hate this,” I said, breathing in the briny smell of the sea.

  “Mmm,” he agreed, tilting his beer back and taking a swallow of it.

  “How did you deal with the anger and fear when it was your brother she held against you?”

  He glanced over at me before facing the water once more. “I made others feel my suffering and earned a name for my ruthlessness.”

  Yeah, that wasn’t helpful advice.

  I set my drink aside and stretched out on my back. Next to me, X followed suit, wrapping his forearm behind his head.

  The stars twinkled above us, unbelievably bright now that we were on open water.

  “Will I die tomorrow?” I asked.

  “No.” He said the word with such determination, like he alone would make sure of exactly that. Odd to have a supervillain trying to save your life.

  “Will you die tomorrow?”

  “No,” he said, his voice less sure.

  I rolled my head to the side to face him. My eyes traced his features. The way moonlight made his eyes glint, the shadows that threw his cheekbones into sharp relief. Those lips …

  He glanced over at me. “What?”

  “You’re still willing to face the Cruel Countess even though you might die?”

  His brow furrowed. “Yes.”

  One of the wickedest villains in the world was going to put his life on the line for my sister. It didn’t matter what his motives were, he was willing to die for me.

  I reached over and traced the veins of his hand with my fingers. X closed his eyes, savoring the feel of it. This man who’d been denied so much, who’d suffered so much, and who’d used his terrible power for good before the Cruel Countess recruited him. He’d let everyone think him soulless, even himself.

  But he wasn’t.

  I turned the rest of my body on its side to face him. He gave me a sidelong look, a small frown on his face.

&nb
sp; “Wh—”

  I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, his warm, soft lips. My hand drifted up, rubbing the stubble along his cheek, then delved into his hair.

  Earlier he’d turned me down, and he might again. I was willing to chance my feelings.

  For a moment, he did nothing, and I thought that whatever had stopped him earlier would stop him again. But a second later, he reacted, his lips moving against mine.

  He began slow, tentative, savoring the glide of our lips. Kisses like this one moved you, made you believe in things like soul mates and true love.

  He broke away, angling his body so that he was now on his side, staring back at me.

  “Don’t stop,” I pleaded.

  A ghost of a smile touched his lips, and then he was back to kissing me, his breath hot.

  His arm snaked around my waist and drew me in until I was pressed against those hard abs of his.

  Fucking villains and their perfect bodies …

  X parted my lips with his own, and then his tongue stroked mine. My mouth caught his groan. Our lips moved together, faster, more frantic, and this time I broke away, reaching for his hand. Once I grasped it, I guided it to my suit’s zipper.

  His eyes widened for the briefest of seconds—like I’d asked him to dismantle a bomb—before he focused on drawing the zipper down.

  Material peeled away, and he stared at what he saw.

  “Take it off me,” I said.

  He hesitated. “Are you … sure?” his gravelly voice was a whisper on the breeze.

  “You might be the first supervillain in history to ask that question,” I teased. “Of course I’m sure.”

  X’s gaze burned through me as he resumed his work. He pushed the material over one shoulder, and then the other, entranced by the sight of my skin. His hands glided over it, and his eyes, his eyes …

  He leaned in, towards the hollow of my throat and pressed the barest of kisses there. As he did so, he slid the rest of the top off my arms, exposing my torso.

  He exhaled sharply. Ever so gently, he guided me so that my back lay against the floor. He came with me.

  His mouth found mine again, and as he kissed me before his hands returned to the suit.

  He dragged it off agonizingly slow, transfixed by every new inch of skin it uncovered, until it was completely gone.

  This must be new for him. Had he ever reveled over another’s body the way he was mine? So much had been denied to this man.

  But it would be denied no longer.

  I let him soak up the moment, not hurrying him, not trying to rip his own pants off, until finally, I couldn’t wait any longer.

  I sat up and began unbuttoning his jeans, brushing him in the process. He groaned and took over for me, removing the rest of his clothes in record time.

  All that was left were my itsy bitsy panties, and he knelt, removing those too before settling himself over me.

  Now we stared into each other’s eyes. Looking into his, I realized that I didn’t see the Executioner, I saw a handsome, broken man who, beneath all that dangerous skin, desperately wanted to redeem himself. I saw Sam.

  X pressed into me and I arched my pelvis up, meeting him as he glided into me. He stared down at me all the while, watching my eyes flutter and the sigh roll out of me.

  Thunderstruck. That was his expression as he thrust into me, gripping my thigh and angling me to get as close as possible.

  He watched my reaction, perhaps disbelieving that he could possibly be giving me pleasure. “Does that … ?”

  “Feels amazing,” I breathed, staring up at him. He rocked into me again and I moaned. “Harder.”

  His body shivered as he met my demand.

  Euphoria. Rapture. That was what it felt like to be in this man’s arms. By the time I came apart around him and he collapsed on top of me, something in his eyes had changed. There was a new spark there. Hope alighted in his eyes, but so did something else, something that had my stomach clench with excitement even as dread bathed my body.

  The Executioner feels something for me.

  Cupping my cheeks, he kissed me fiercely. X tasted warm and rich against my chilly face. I pinched my eyes shut as I kissed him back.

  Something a lot like happiness pooled low in my belly.

  Please not now, and not with him. My stupid body couldn’t be reasoned with.

  I’d stayed away from relationships for this very reason. For someone like me, being with another was a sticky business, one that promised a future of pain. In my line of work, civilians were used as leverage, heroes could be killed, and loved ones were exploited. Our situation was proof of that.

  But heaven help me, X might not be the only one developing feelings.

  Chapter 22

  Executioner

  The quiet beep of my watch’s alarm roused me from sleep. I woke with a tangle of caramel hair splayed across my chest and a beautiful woman draped across my side.

  I am the luckiest son of a gun out there.

  If I thought that sex would kick the urge to be with Angel, I thought wrong.

  I turned off my alarm and got up, glancing down at Angel as I did so. Something in my chest tightened at the sight of her. Mine. The word wrapped itself around me. We might be a long ways off from love, but tonight felt like the first of many to come.

  I couldn’t let her go. I wouldn’t. Right then and there I decided it. If she wanted me to hang up my career—which she would, because a woman like that wouldn’t just settle for a thug—then I would. I’d even atone. And I’d make damn sure that come tomorrow, I would find her sister and get us out of there alive.

  Because now I truly had something to live for.

  She moaned as I slid out from under her.

  That sound! Never would it get old.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I’m checking the navigation system and grabbing us some blankets.”

  I slipped away and grabbed the pile of linens stashed below the helm and brought them back to Angel. Shaking them out, I laid one after another over her, hoping upon hope that this would keep her warm enough to continue sleeping long after I disappeared.

  Her lips curled up. Content. I’d made this woman content—if only for a short while. A pang of regret slammed into my chest. If only …

  Before I could do something idiotic like rejoin her, I backed away and headed to the boat’s cockpit to check over the measures I put in place earlier. The satellite phone was fully charged, the autopilot nav system was up and running, the lies had been seeded.

  Time to go.

  I’d misled Angel earlier. It wouldn’t take us half a day to get to the Cruel Countess’s lair. Only a handful of hours.

  I’d purposefully set the boat’s course to overshoot the Cruel Countess’s lair before turning around and cutting back across it. I would disembark there, while the powerboat would continue on until it hit the mainland. So long as nothing cataclysmic happened to the boat, Angel should wake up beached on the sand.

  Better odds than if she came with me.

  As quietly as I could, I worked the wetsuit over my skin and slid on my scuba gear. All set.

  My eyes drifted back to her. She quietly snored underneath the stars.

  Goddamn that woman.

  Life had never been fair or easy, and now was no exception. I should be there next to her, claiming sleep like I owned it, and not sneaking away on a suicide mission.

  It’s not too late! I could chart a new course and drag Angel kicking and screaming away from this place. Leave her sister here to die. Wouldn’t be the worst crime I’d ever committed.

  But something had taken root, something—I cringed to admit—halfway decent.

  I pulled on the last of my gear, checked the buoyancy compensator, the weights, the releases, and the tank’s pressure. All good. Nothing to keep me here any longer.

  One last look.

  Her brows furrowed in her sleep, like she sensed that I was about to deceive her
. It was a physical thing, stopping myself from going to her and smoothing out those brows.

  Can’t do that.

  Even now she could wake up and derail the entire plan.

  I moved to the edge of the boat, pulled down my facemask and fitted the mouthpiece. I watched the navigation readout, waiting until we were directly overhead the Cruel Countess’s compound.

  Sleep well, Angel.

  I slid into the water as quietly as I could and began my descent.

  It felt like someone had chained and padlocked my lungs, seeing the powerboat motor on, carrying my superhero away from me.

  Survive, and you’ll see her again.

  I dove, moving farther and farther away from the water’s surface, pausing only for my body to adjust to the pressure.

  By the time I saw the first pinpricks of light beneath me, I was positive the Cruel Countess knew I’d come.

  Her beloved sharks circled me, swimming with agitated flicks of their tails. Urban legend said that the first power the Countess had ever stolen was the ability to speak to animals. I’d never seen her exert this power firsthand, but I knew she wielded it. The few times I’d entered the Cruel Countess’s lair this way, her sharks were always careful never to touch me—I was sure she instructed them not to bite. Not for my sake, of course. That, she’d enjoy. No, she worried her little beasties would perish.

  God, I hated that broad.

  There would be no escape for me unless I killed the Cruel Countess. I also knew my chances of ending her were slim.

  The lights beneath me brightened as I got closer, shining along the contours of the underwater compound. Through some of the building’s thick windows I could see in. The place looked abandoned.

  Lights on but nobody home.

  I moved around the compound to the underwater cave that led to the building’s back door. I entered, and lights strung up along the cavern’s ceiling shone far above me, illuminating the space in blues and greens.

  The sharks that circled me now tightened their formation. I kicked out, nicking one of their noses with my fin. With an agitated twist, the shark withdrew from my side.