Angel Warrior (3 page)

His incredible body hits me again, but this time I’m not worried about his injuries. I feel almost paralyzed as let my gaze slide over every inch of him. He looks like a magazine cutout, muscular and tanned from the waist up. Every ab is visible beneath taut skin. They ripple as he folds his T-shirt and sets it on the coffee table.

He looks up, and I can tell he’s debating whether to pursue me or not.

As drawn as I am to him, we just met. I start backing away. Straight into the wall. “Oomph,” I grunt ungracefully.

“Are you all right?” His face is filled with concern.

My face flames in embarrassment. “I—I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow. In the morning. Good night.”

His mouth quirks up at the corners and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh at me. I flee down the hall to my bedroom, closing the door, and locking it for good measure.

Maybe the lock should go the other way. I’m not sure who needs more protection. Me from him—or him from me.

My eyes open and I stare at an oddly high ceiling. Oh. Right. I’m still at Gillian’s. I sit up slowly. Argh. My back muscles bunch uncomfortably. Sleeping on human beds always does that to me. We don’t have to sleep upstairs, but down in the 3rd dimension we have many of the same needs as humans.

Or maybe it was getting hit by a bus yesterday. That was graceful.

I’m not sure I slept at all last night. Every few hours Gillian came out and pressed a soft palm to my forehead, or simply stood over me, watching the rise and fall of my chest. Her concern warmed me, but the thought of her so close to my bed, wearing her pink pajamas edged with lace, made it impossible to think of anything besides her.

I shift uncomfortably. I was hard damn near all night. And it had been ridiculously hard to keep my eyes mostly shut, feigning a peaceful sleep.

I try to smooth down my hair the best I can. A nervous energy fills me and, glancing around the room, I try to find something to do.
I can make her breakfast
. Maybe that would wrest a smile from her.

I pad to the kitchen and rifle through the fridge. Eggs. Bacon. Tomatoes. Peppers. Garlic. Bread.
Perfect. I can work with this.

Before long, the aroma of bacon and eggs fill the air. It’s funny, but even though I don’t have to, I still love to cook. And eat.

I hear her open her door and come into the kitchen behind me. “Good morning.”

She’s adorably rumpled from sleep, her long, straight blond hair slightly frizzed. Her eyes are wide, and I can tell she doesn’t know what to say. There’s that hungry gaze again. It slides over each of my tattoos, then my chest, then my abs, then lower.

But I feel much the same. My eyes devour her, wishing I could brush that lace over every inch of her body.

I can tell the moment she realizes I’m watching her.

A blush creeps up her neck. “How are you feeling this morning?”

I clear my throat. “I’m fine. Good as new.”

“What are you making?” She tries to look around me at the pan on the stove.

She looks adorable. But way too serious. I want to see her smile.

I step to the left, then the right, blocking her view. “No peeking,” I tease.

She grins at that, looking a little more at ease. “I’m pretty sure it’s bacon and eggs.”

“And I’m pretty sure you know what that looks like already.” I wink. “Do you want coffee?”

“Yes, please.” She glances at the clock. “I want to get dressed. How long do I have before it’s ready?”

I turn back to the pan. “Ten minutes.”

“I’ll be ready in five.”

When the shower turns on, I try my hardest not to imagine her in there. Wet. Naked.
Down boy.
Those kinds of thoughts are exactly the ones that will get me in trouble.

I freeze as I’m stirring the eggs.
What’s going on with me?
I’m acting like a horny teenager, not the ambivalent angel I’d grown to accept.

She reemerges just as I finish putting the food on the table, her hair still wet from the shower.

“This is wonderful.” She looks up at me shyly. “You didn’t have to make breakfast.”

I laugh. “Of course I did, after you saved my life and everything. Please, eat up.”

She rolls her eyes, but sits down and takes a bite. Her eyes open wide. “Oh my,” she says with her mouth full. “This is delicious. What did you put in these eggs?” She picks up the plate to look at it.

“Just veggies and spices. The way my mama showed me how to make it.”

“Your mama sure knew what she was doing.”

“Yes, ma’am, she did.” I’m strangely pleased by how much she enjoys the food. She eats almost as fast as I do.

When she’s finished, she puts down the fork with obvious reluctance and looks at her watch again. “Thank you so much for breakfast. But it’s almost seven and I’ve got to head off to work in fifteen minutes.”

I nod and begin to gather the dishes, but she stops me by placing a hand on my arm. Energy arcs between us, making my skin tingle.

She pulls back with a gasp. “Please. I’ll get this. Why don’t you grab a shower?”

It’s only minutes later that we are standing awkwardly just inside her front door. “Thank you so much for helping me yesterday. And allowing me to stay the night.”

She laughs. “I don’t think I did much for you, but at least you weren’t alone.”

I pause at that. “You’re right. I wasn’t alone. And believe me, Gillian, that was enough.”

For the first time I realize how lonely I’ve been since becoming an angel. I have friends, other warriors, but no family. No love. I put my hand on the door handle, but don’t open it. “I’d really like to see you again.” My stomach jumps a little, and I realize I’m actually worried about what she’s going to say.

“Me, too,” she says, her gaze locked on her shoes.

I feel a surge of hope. “How about dinner tomorrow night? We could meet at the coffee shop.”

“Where you got hit? Isn’t that bad luck?”

I wink at her. “I heard you can’t get hit by a bus twice on the same street.”

She looks at me as if I’m pulling her leg.

And I am.

I don’t know what to do, so I take the back of her hand and kiss it. An electric shock goes through me as my lips touch her. A glance at the stunned expression on her face tells me she felt it, too.

“Tomorrow night at seven, then?” My eyes drink her in.

“Tomorrow at seven,” she agrees.

I don’t know if I’m allowed to date a human. I’m pretty sure it’s against the rules, in the fine print somewhere.

But I do know that for the first time since becoming an angel, I feel a spark of hope.

When I enter the building that houses my lab, Keith is waiting for me. “Oh my God, girl, I’ve been waiting here for an hour to find out what happened last night! Don’t keep me in suspense—give me details, tell me
everything!”

“Be quiet!” I shush him, looking around. “He’d just been hit by a bus—I wasn’t going to jump on him last night.”

His hand goes to his forehead and he moans in pain. “Oh God, girl, you’re killing me here. Pleeeease tell me I did not leave and stay the night with that horrible Peter, listening to him snore all night long, just so you could do
absolutely nothing
with the hot, scrumptious specimen of a male that practically landed in your lap!” He’s shaking my shoulders in despair by the end of his speech.

I try to look chagrined. “I’m sorry I let you down, babe.”

He looks so crestfallen that I have to console him.

“But you know what? He asked me out to dinner tomorrow night.” I wink.

“Oh thank goodness!” He’s almost crying with relief. “The night was not a total disaster!”

I put my arm around his shoulders for a quick hug. “Definitely not, but I’d better get to work.”

He nods. “All right, sweetie. See you later.”

As the elevator door opens before me, he calls out, “Gillian! What was his name?”

I shrug. “I really have no idea.”

“What?!”

After I step into the elevator and the door closes, I can’t stop laughing. Had we really gone through all of that, and I forgot to ask him his name?

***

The elevator doors open on the twenty-eighth floor. Hand and retinal scanners at the door double-check my identity before they let me into the enormous lab that takes up a quarter of the building.

Due to the nature of my work, I need a bird’s-eye view of the city.

I begin setting up my equipment and computer programs for the experiments of the day.

I’ve just finished setting up when there is a loud crack. The door to the lab falls inward. Hesitantly, I start to slide toward the panic button.

Two men walk in. I want to call them men, but I’m not exactly sure they are. Their suits don’t seem to fit right. And they look different. Dangerous.

“Gillian Matthews?” the first one asks. He wears big, rimmed glasses, but they’re too far down his nose to be of any real use.

I’m just feet from the panic button
. If I can just keep them distracted for another couple of seconds
. “Who’s asking?

The second one clears his throat, stroking his dark beard. “I wouldn’t touch that button if I were you.”

I stop.
How does he know?
“What do you want?”

“Your notes, laptop, and you.”

His words hit me like a meteor. I understand the notes and the laptop, but me?

“Why?” I try to look shocked. “What on Earth do you want with surveillance stats?”

“Surveillance stats?” the one with the beard repeats back with a brow raised.

“Yes, I’m just measuring the flow of traffic on the roadways so we can set the traffic signals more effectively. Are you with the government?”

The guy with the beard looks up at the one who is fidgeting with his odd glasses. “Dean, what does the boss want with surveillance stats? Maybe we got the wrong girl.”

The other one finally snatches his glasses off his nose and chucks them across the room. They smash against the wall and shatter. “She’s lying to you, Blaine. Do you always have to be so gullible?”

I don’t think these two are professionals
. I’ve only made it two steps closer to the panic button, but managed to pocket two of my USBs.

Dean turns back to me. “We know exactly what you’re doing. Turn it over, or we’ll make you wish you had. And then we’ll take it anyway.”

That’s when it hits me, even if I get to the panic button, these two thugs will probably be long gone with me and my equipment before anyone comes to help. I’ve worked for years developing my idea, and had to fight tooth and nail to get funding. If my theories are right, I could win a Nobel Prize with this someday.

I need a plan B.

I grab my laptop and start backing toward the window. “I don’t know what you think I’m doing, but I’m not giving you my research.” I look out the window and down to the street below. “And I’d rather die with it than give it to you.”

I hold my breath, hoping my bluff will pay off.

Instead, they split up, each walking toward me around opposite sides of the table.
Not good. Not good at all.

“There’s no need to be so dramatic,” Dean says reasonably. “Maybe we can work this out.”

I give a slightly hysterical laugh. What am I supposed to do? If these two get me, I have no idea what they’ll do, but falling to my death is sounding less like a crazy threat and more like a real possibility. But it’s been a strange twenty-four hours. If a guy can survive getting hit by a bus with barely a scratch, maybe I’ll be fine, too.

“I don’t think so.” I back up until I’m pressed against the window.

When they reach me, I’m not quite ready to dive down twenty-eight floors just yet. I’m not much of a fighter, but I get in a good kick at Dean and two punches at Blaine before he grabs my laptop and tries to wrestle it out of my hands. Desperation pushes aside all rational thought. I should just let it go, but I can’t. And I’m not going to.

Dean grabs my ponytail and pulls my head backward while the second man is pulling the laptop from my arms. By some inhuman strength of will, I keep my grip.

“Give us the laptop… and we’ll… let you go.” Dean says.

I can tell he’s making an effort to be reasonable. But even if I believed him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “That’s not…going…to happen!” But I can feel my arms and fingers starting to tire.

Our sides hit the glass, and Dean uses his grip on my ponytail to bang my head against it. For a moment, my vision turns black, but my fingers stay firmly wrapped around my laptop.

As if in slow motion, I hear the spidercracking of the glass behind us. Fear fuels me, and I wrench the laptop away and duck beneath the table, just in time.