36. Messiah

The crying doesn't last long. Almost as fast as it starts, she takes a deep breath and shuts it off. Keeping my arms around her, I move us to the couch and set her on my lap. She buries her head in my neck and I let my fingers run up and down her back to calm her.

Once she calms down, she tells me how the idea started.

"They got away," she told me. "Or they thought they did. If I had to suffer, so did they. Kevin let me stay with him for a little while, then gave me a job at the club. Once I managed to get enough money, I got my apartment. For the last seven months, I have been working on hunting each of them down."

"Well, you are a better killer than me," I smile, nudging her chin with my fingers. "I usually just put a bullet in their head and call it a day."

"No." She wipes at the moisture on her cheeks as she sits up. "That would be too easy a death for them."

It would. Knowing what they did to her – seeing it for myself in the videos – makes me much less sympathetic about having seen them all with their dicks cut off. In fact, it makes me admire her more. Part of me wishes I could have seen the struggles they put up when they realized a five-foot nothing girl was going to kill them. It makes my dick hard just thinking about seeing her turn into such a vicious little minx.

"My filthy little Angel," I smile at her, pressing my fingers beneath her chin to pull her toward me.

She doesn't even shy away from the kiss I press against her mouth.

We are trying to hash out the plan to grab Joe next. Angel thinks Brutus may know who the mystery guy is so the idea is to leave him for last so we can take our time in getting the information we need out of him. I am at the desk while she is sitting on the couch arguing with Kevin on the phone and I'm trying not to butt into the conversation. I don't like the way he is bitching at her, or the way she bows down to it so easily. My angel has a spine, she needs to use it. My phone rings and I pick it up, pressing my fingers to my lips as I see Charles's name. He won't care if I got a girl or if she is around. He only cares about making sure business gets done. But he would use her as leverage if he thought he could, so it is best to just keep her under the radar.

"Yeah," I answer.

"Got word that you are about to do some . . . persuasive questioning," he responds. "Am I to assume this means you are actually making progress on this case?"

"I am," I answer. "Although, from what I have found, I think this was an inside job."

"Motherfucker. Who?"

"Not sure yet," I lie. "Putting the pieces together, it looks like either Joe or Brutus may have been double crossing the others. I don't know if they found out and killed them or what. That is what the questions are going to be for."

"Well, get it fucking done. Aside from that, I got a job for you. Not a take out. I just need you to scare the shit out of someone."

"Couldn't call one of the others?"

"The location is closer to you," he snarls. "Mark Brown, you heard of him?"

Fuck. I take a slow breath as I glance toward Angel.

"Yeah."

"He is getting a bit too big for his britches. Remind him who the fuck he works for."

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose and agree.

"Are you going to lock me up?" she asks, tucking her knees under her chin.

I can't take her with me. I don't want to take her with me. I don't know what Mark has done or how he is going to react, and she doesn't need to be in the middle of that. There is also a new dilemma I am facing. Every time I take a job, I risk not coming home. When it was just me here that was fine. My brain races through ideas as I text Mark to meet me at the usual diner. Angel is still watching me, waiting for an answer, as I load my gun and tuck it into my pants.

"Are you going to be here when I get back?" I ask.

She doesn't hesitate to nod, but I don't know if it is meant as a means to appease me or not.

"I promise," she says softly.

A promise. I have to trust her. Stepping forward, I lean down and pull her face to mine, kissing her like it might be the last time I ever get to taste her lips.

Mark doesn't seem concerned as he slides into the booth across from me. It has been thirty-five minutes since I left my apartment. He gives the waitress a congenial smile as she fills a brown ceramic mug with coffee.

"What's up?" he asks, draping his arm across the empty space next to him.

"Any leads on your side?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing new. Yours?"

"A little," I tell him. "Still no perp."

"Fucking blizzard might have driven him underground," he sighs, looking out the windows.

The heat inside the diner has caused a film of condensation to form around the edges of the glass. Outside, the city is overcast with a deep gray light. A thick blanket of snow built up yesterday and has turned to shitty mush in the roads and along the sidewalks. The air is the worst part of it. It fucking stings as soon as you step outside, and I feel bad for anyone having to walk in it.

"Nearly caught him," I tell him. "Fucker slashed my leg and got away."

"When was that?" He leans forward, his eyes darting to the few other customers around us.

"Last week. Nothing since then. Went quiet when he found out someone was on to him."

I need to stop bullshitting around. My brain is focused on how long it has been since I left the apartment and a looming sense of dread fills my chest as I think about Angel not being there when I get back. There are cameras that I can watch her on. I didn't set the alarm because I wanted to show her that I could trust her if she trusted me. But checking the cameras would look suspicious to Mark, and I don't want him to know I have someone waiting for me at home.

"Look," I say, pushing my coffee cup aside and clasping my hands in front of me. "I got a call from Charles."

The tension slides across his shoulders like a steel rod being shoved up his sleeve. He leans back in his chair to try and play it off, his finger tapping the edge of the greasy table.

"About what?"

"I don't know," I tell him. "Other than what you do with me, I don't know what you do involving him. But you lucked out that he sent me your way before it was a death order."

"So this isn't a hit?" he asks.

"No. Why would I shoot you in a fucking public diner?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Seen drive-bys take place in much more crowded areas."

The waitress comes by and asks if we need any more coffee. I glance at Mark as she refills my cup and he orders a slice of pie to make her go away.

"Did he say what it was?" he asks, his eyes fixed on the woman's ass as she walks across the room.

Forty minutes.

"What?"

"What am I crossing boundaries in? How do I stop something I don't know?"

"He didn't tell me. Just consider this your roughing up."

We eat our pie and let the conversation drift away. Whether or not he is going to take the threat seriously isn't something I can tell. I don't want to kill the guy. He has an ex-wife and daughter that he sees on occasion. I also don't want to have to grow to be buddies with a new cop.

We part ways before leaving the diner, and I turn down the street to where my car is parked. I take the chance to glance at my phone. Angel isn't in the living room. The window and door are closed. That doesn't mean she couldn't have slipped out when I wasn't looking.

Sliding into my car, I let the wipers brush the new layer of snow off the windshield and I crank up the heater before throwing it into drive and heading home, praying that my Angel is still there when I arrive.