Reaping Angels

  I dashed up it and found myself on the third floor. Unlikely that the exit out would be here, but who knew? This place had no logic to it.

  I rounded the hall only to halt in my tracks. There the Executioner waited for me.

  Chapter 7

  Angel

  The Executioner strode towards me, his face eerily calm now.

  “H-how did you beat me here?” I asked.

  He ignored my question and continued to prowl forward, forcing me to back up until I bumped into the wall behind me. Still he kept coming.

  When he reached me, his arms came up, pinning me in. He leaned in close. “You are not to destroy my things,” he warned, his voice low.

  “Then let me go.”

  “Never,” he said with frightening vehemence. “Never, Angel.”

  At least I knew where he stood on this. I’d have to hunker down and wait for him to take his eyes off of me for a hot five seconds, and then I was outta here.

  We stared at each other. The longer we stayed in this position, the more that rage of his dissipated. Eventually, it died away completely, morphing into something just as tense but much more … titillating.

  The Executioner broke eye contact first, his gaze pulled to my mouth. The want in his eyes … I swore he fought the urge to lean forward and kiss me.

  Instead his focus moved down to the hollow of my throat. Almost tentatively he brought his hand up and touched the skin there.

  I closed my eyes and drew in a ragged breath. No pain. None at all. Actually, his touch felt quite pleasant.

  Supervillain, Angel.

  I froze when I felt him press his cheek against my breast. The position was strangely intimate, despite the layers of material that separated us.

  “You heart hasn’t even slowed,” he said, his voice breathless. With excitement, I realized. The Executioner was excited that he hadn’t hurt me.

  I’d never even considered the possibility that the Executioner might not want to torture and kill. He did it so often that I assumed he enjoyed it.

  Without thinking, I ran a hand through the Executioner’s hair.

  He made a soft noise in his throat, as though the sensation was pure ecstasy. When was the last time he’d touched or been touched by another without pain involved? Ever?

  My hand curled in his hair, and I breathed in and out through my nose. I was a healer, a fixer, and pressed against me was the most broken, screwed up person I’d ever met. Dang it all, I did not want to feel affection for the man that tried to kill me, the same person who now held me hostage.

  I let my hand drop and pushed him away from me. “This isn’t happening, Executioner. I’d rather die than be with a villain like you.”

  Executioner

  After hearing that damn heartbeat of hers against my ear, I thought I must be dreaming. And when I felt her hand slide through my hair affectionately, I knew I was delusional.

  Because something this good never happened to a monster like me.

  So when Angel spoke, her words slapped me back into the present.

  I straightened. “I’m not asking.”

  She was mine. That was the end of it. Even if every other healer in the world had her same penchant for neutralizing my ability, I doubted I’d be interested. Already the green of her eyes had become my favorite color, and her slight build my favorite body type. Even now I was imagining the rest of what lay beneath her clothes. What it would feel like to lay flush with her and not have to worry about burning her delicate skin.

  What it would be like to slide into her sweet folds and lay claim to her.

  I scooped Angel up and began walking down the hall.

  “What are you doing?” No fear in her voice. Alarm and annoyance, maybe, but not fear.

  Good.

  I wound my way back to my bedroom. Here she’d be protected, and here she couldn’t escape.

  Behind me the door clicked shut.

  “Now the two of us are going to get to know each other,” I said.

  She laughed, the sound pleasing.

  Need to make her laugh more often.

  “Oh we are now?” she said, her tone taunting. She relaxed a bit more into my arms. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

  My cell vibrated in my pocket, and I almost groaned. Work at a time like this?

  I dumped Angel onto the bed and reached for my phone.

  “Oomph!” she grunted as she hit the mattress.

  “I’m busy,” I said, answering the call.

  “God, you are such an A-hole!” Angel scrambled from the bed to her feet. “Like a huge one.”

  “Make time for me,” said the Cruel Countess, a sinister bitch I couldn’t trust farther than I could throw her. At least she paid well.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “A competitor of mine received a shipment of goods and thought to cut me out of the arrangement,” the Cruel Countess said. “I need you to rectify the situation.”

  Eliminate the target. Simple enough.

  “Which competitor?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Angel grab the door handle. It didn’t budge.

  I folded my arms and leaned back against the wall, settling in to watch her as I talked.

  “Wrath.” Who conveniently lived in L.A.

  The Cruel Countess hadn’t warned me about another assignment here, but I wasn’t surprised. She liked to stack her business together when she could. I think she found it satisfying to wipe out several problems as efficiently as possible. And I was very efficient.

  “When should I strike?”

  “Today. Now preferably.”

  Of course right now.

  I ran a hand under my chin. “It’s as good as done.”

  Angel let out a frustrated shriek. “Damn you! Let me out!”

  “Who is that?” Curiosity tinged the Cruel Countess’s voice.

  “A hooker.”

  “Ugh, pretend I didn’t ask,” the Cruel Countess said. “Anyway, make sure to send Wrath the message that I am not to be crossed.”

  My lips tightened into a hard line. “Fine.”

  Swiveling from the door, Angel stalked towards me. Oh this I liked.

  “And Executioner?” the Cruel Countess said.

  “Hmm?” I said, eyeing my woman. She had murder in her eyes, and I was growing hard at the sight.

  “Any updates on the healer yet?”

  “She was a no-show yesterday,” I said, even as I stared down the superhero in question. “Mirage can vouch for me.” Mirage couldn’t, in fact, vouch for me because she scrammed as soon as she’d set up the illusion. Have to call her later and fill her in.

  Angel closed the distance between us, practically spitting fire. All the rumors about her being sweet as a lamb were wrong.

  “I want her, Executioner. Do it tomorrow.” The line went dead.

  Before I could pocket the phone, Angel jerked it from my grasp and threw it on the floor.

  “What the—?”

  The heel of her boot came down on the phone. Just when I thought she’d shatter the screen, her foot paused “Let me out, Executioner.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Go ahead, Angel,” I said, nodding to the device. “Break it.”

  She smiled. “Reverse psychology doesn’t work on me.”

  Now it was my turn to grin. Menacingly. “I can get another phone. I can’t get another you.”

  I turned away from her and strode towards the door, snatching my jacket from the floor and shrugging it on.

  “Where are you going?”

  Said like she expected me to stick around. This was a day of firsts.

  I could get used to this.

  I lifted my hood over my head. “I have business to attend. Think twice before ruining any more of my things.”

  I grabbed the knob and opened the door.

  Angel’s eyes darted to the action. “How did you open … ? Wait, no—!” Her voice cut out as the door shut behind me.

  My Angel wasn’t going anywhere a
nytime soon.

  Chapter 8

  Angel

  I screamed as I kicked at the windows for the millionth time. And for the millionth time, they didn’t budge from the impact—didn’t even shudder. Just like the solid oak door.

  I’d been stuck in this stupid room for hours. Ever since that prick put me in here.

  I fell back on the Executioner’s bed and stared up at the ceiling. I just had to act like a true prisoner. Perhaps if I’d tried to deceive him I’d have gotten better results.

  Having these hours to myself did, however, give me plenty of time to think about my situation. The Executioner, for instance, might be completely evil, but he’d already revealed his weakness—touch. He craved it like a drowning man craved air.

  He wouldn’t kill me. He might not even hurt me—there had been several instances where I could’ve sworn he didn’t want this violent life. But he wanted to touch me, and he was roguish enough to do whatever he thought necessary to reach that end goal. Like lock me in a room. Asshat.

  After surviving my initial encounter with him, I also knew that he was singling out superheroes for some purpose. A steady stream of them had disappeared over the last two years, and I’d bet money that they’d received the same ultimatum I had. But why? What was the Executioner up to? Or, better yet, what was his boss, the Cruel Countess, up to?

  I pinched my lower lip. If I could find out, then perhaps I could stem the tide of deaths. Could I earn the Executioner’s trust? That might give me the opportunity to learn his plans and escape this place. Maybe even save some lives.

  I turned my head into the Executioner’s pillow and breathed in the smell of body wash and man. His scent. I scowled when I realized I liked it. And therein lay the one crucial problem with my plan: gaining his trust without accidently feeling more for him.

  Executioner

  I pulled off my gloves as I drove back along the Highway 1. The last eight hours had been tedious, and my mind hadn’t been fully in my work. Instead I kept drifting back to the woman in my bedroom.

  I hadn’t meant to stay away this long. Traffic and Wrath’s penchant for preparing for the worst had lengthened the job. I should’ve left food in the room for Angel. I frowned. She’d gone hungry the entire day.

  I pulled out my spare cell, my mouth tipping up at Angel’s earlier antics. As though I didn’t change phones frequently, given my line of business.

  I dialed the Cruel Countess’s number, my finger pausing over Send.

  I’d never asked for this job as her enforcer. Coercion had been involved. No one knew that particular detail, though some of my comrades had to suspect. Just as I suspected that the Cruel Countess had ferreted out their weaknesses and used what she found against them.

  Forced cooperation.

  Shackled and gagged. My captors in hazmat suits. Her ultimatum …

  I shoved the memory away, swallowed my rage.

  Even now that knife dangled over my neck. Once she learned I defied her, she’d take action. Angel’s life wasn’t the only one in danger now. I needed to make arrangements, buy myself time to form a plan.

  But for now, I needed to handle the current situation.

  I hit Send and pressed the phone to my ear.

  “Is it done?” she answered.

  “I expect five million wired to my account by the end of the day,” I said by way of answer.

  She sighed. “Your rates try my patience.”

  “Wrath’s men will be coming down on my head in the near future. Consider it hazard pay.”

  “Fine, fine. And the girl?”

  I felt my pulse hike at the mention of her. Excitement at the prospect of returning to her. Fear for the situation I’d now mired her in. “I kill people for a living,” I said. “I don’t stop time.”

  “Don’t keep me waiting.” The line went dead.

  I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and started the engine.

  I couldn’t put the Cruel Countess off forever. I’d need to come up with something soon.

  If my enemies now knew I had another weakness …

  Only one more reason why I needed to keep Angel locked up. My foot pressed down on the gas. After the world’s longest assignment, I’d finally get to see her.

  I rubbed a hand over my jaw at the thought of Angel in my room. On my bed.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself.

  She wasn’t going to just give herself to me. Frustrating, intriguing woman. I would have to give chase and wear her down. That was what I was good at, wearing people down. That was all that torture was, after all, applied pressure over stretches of time.

  I couldn’t hold her against her will forever. She’d have to want to stay eventually. Problem was, I’d never done relationships. Not ones based on something other than money and mutually vested interest. Not ones based on love and sex.

  And the thought of having sex with Angel … I groaned and adjusted myself. Fuck. I was no better than a horny teenager.

  I needed to come up with a plan and then lay low for a while. Then I could get my personal affairs in order.

  Personal affairs.

  Shiit.

  Angel

  I jolted out of sleep, not sure what had woken me. I rubbed my eyes and sat up in the Executioner’s bed. I squinted at the room’s windows. Deep blue sky filtered in. Which meant I’d been here all evening.

  A door slammed in the distance.

  He’s back.

  Back from a day of marauding and killing—just the usual for a supervillain like himself.

  Suddenly I was wide awake.

  The Executioner’s heavy footfalls got louder as he strode towards the room, now sounding up the stairs, now walking down the hall. My heart began to pound like it did before a raid. It was some strange mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

  His steps halted in front of my room, and my breath caught. Every instinct inside me was telling me to ambush him and make a run for it. I had to fist my hands to keep from acting on the urge.

  Win him over, learn his secrets, then escape, I chanted this to myself as the knob turned.

  And there he stood in the doorway, his body filling the space out. He still wore his hood, and his characteristic black attire covered the rest of his body.

  “Hello, Executioner,” I said, lounging back against his bed. I wore one of his shirts and nothing else. He’d been so kind to leave the change of clothes for me in case I wanted to sleep.

  Fucker.

  Using both his hands, he removed the hood from his face. Underneath it, his eyes flickered hungrily over my body and his jaw clenched tightly. Flecks of blood dotted his face.

  Yep, he’d been busy getting down and evil.

  His eyes lingered on my sculpted legs before traveling upwards. Something possessive entered his features when he saw my breasts molded beneath his shirt. I smirked as his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Finally, his gaze moved to my face.

  He exhaled. “Hello, Angel.” He made my name sound like an endearment. He kicked the door closed, and I heard it click ominously.

  Don’t stare at it. Don’t stare at it.

  Anger simmered just below the surface of my skin. How dare this man think he could keep me, a superhero, here as his prisoner.

  He brooded as he moved about his room. I got the impression, now that he had me, he didn’t know what to do with me.

  Time to start winning him over.

  I pushed myself off of his bed and headed towards him. He eyed me warily as he tossed his gloves onto the top of his dresser.

  Stopping in front of him, I gripped the zipper of his jacket. I think this was what he wanted—my interest and my touch. I’d give him both—to a limited extent.

  I pulled the zipper down, the sound abnormally loud, especially now that the Executioner’s breathing had gone quiet.

  He watched me, mesmerized by my movements. The Executioner might never have experienced this casual seduction between a man and a woman. Even I, a twenty-th
ree year old who was allergic to relationships, knew more about this than he did, and he looked to be several years older than me.

  I snuck a glance down at his hands. Fisted. Meaning he was restraining himself a great deal. I was quickly learning all of his tells.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice rough.

  I looked up at him. His jaw was tight with tension and his eyes glinted. Some long and drawn out war was going on behind that face of his.

  “Removing your clothing,” I said. The smile I gave him was sly.

  As soon as I unzipped his jacket, I slid my hands beneath it and over his chest. Mmm, Torture Boy had a nice set of pecs. My touch moved up to his shoulders. Thick, corded muscle covered these too.

  “Why would you do that?” he murmured.

  I forced his jacket down his arms. Underneath it, he wore a fitted T-shirt.

  “Remove your clothing?” I asked, my gaze moving from his chest back to his face, where his eyes devoured me. “Because I want to. And because you have me here for this very reason. Or would you rather we play checkers and sing songs together? We can do that if you’d prefer.” The Executioner’s jacket hit the floor a second later, the sound punctuating my words.

  “I can remove my own clothing,” he growled.

  “But then you can’t chance one of my hands grazing your skin.” As I spoke, I deliberately slid the tips of my fingers down his forearms.

  His eyes darkened with want. All from my words. Toying with this supervillain was kind of fun. Much better than my usual experience with them, which usually involved lots of blood and pain.

  I grabbed the edges of the black shirt he wore and yanked up, uncovering miles and miles of delicious muscles.

  Le sigh. Bad guys always had the hottest bodies.

  The Executioner helped me remove the shirt since he was considerably taller than me. And then he stood there, all his sculpted muscles on display. And no one to give this exquisite form love. I wanted to cry out on behalf of woman everywhere that no one had gotten to revel in these muscles before me.