Page 6 of The Silencer

Angel takes after his mother, a beautiful woman who I’ve been told died years ago from cancer. I’ve seen pictures of her in the study, and I can see why Anthony went for her. She was truly an angel. Her smile was luminous and she looked like the definition of sweet. Like a flower blooming in a garden on thorns.

“I mean, I didn’t do much. It was all my dad.”

I nod and glance at the empty chair in the corner, wondering if Anthony has sat there again, watching over me while I slept.

I doubt it.

I know that I’ve been nothing but a pest to him over the past several months, poking at him, pushing all his buttons. I know that he’s a dangerous man, but I don’t care about any of that. It’s never deterred me. To me, he’s just a man. A hot one.

One that I have a major crush on.

Even though I know he’ll never reciprocate those feelings.

He’s a straight mob boss with twin sons that are my age. Angel and Diablo.

Diablo, I think with fondness. That little shit.

He’s just as crazy and unhinged as his name suggests—from the saws he carries around with him to the evil gleam in his dark eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Angel says, sniffling. His words pull me back to the present, and I manage a small smile.

“I’m fine. This is the worst I’ve had it, but I’ll make it through. I’m a survivor.”

“Yes. You are.”

“I have many more men to meet. I’m in my prime, Angel. My prime. I can’t die yet. My last fuck cannot be Brayden. I refuse to let it be him.”

His blue gaze meets mine, and he wipes at his eyes. Such a sweet soul. So pure. I don’t know how he managed to be this way when his father is so filled with darkness, a darkness that even I can’t touch.

It’s bone-deep, a part of him. It feels like if I reached out and skirted my hand along it I’d be sucked in.

Oh god, I wouldn’t mind that at all.

“You are. You weren’t ready to go. Not yet.”

“Nope.”

“Brayden has been calling, you know?”

“Has he?” I ask, my heart speeding up.

“My dad saw your phone, kept asking who that was.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t want Brayden to end up with missing fingernails or even a dick.”

We stare at each other, and my lips twitch into a small smile. Angel isn’t returning the gesture though. His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth.

“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong? You know, besides my face.”

He shakes his head, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. “My dad is…he’s so mad.”

“At me?” I ask, feeling my stomach churn in anxiety. Fuck, I don’t want him mad at me. I know I was an idiot for going to that bar, but honestly, I learned my lesson. I’ll never do it again. I’m not that much of a stupid fuck to go somewhere I know I’m not wanted, especially not back to a place with men who look like they belong in a biker gang.

“No, of course not. He’s mad at those guys who attacked you.” He glances away. “It’s?—”

His voice trails off and he shakes his head once more. He pushes the hair on his forehead back and sighs. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

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