Page 3 of Wild Angel

The man shrugs, rubbing a flat hand over his stomach and cringing. “Unfortunately.”

Beefhead takes out a switchblade and cuts me free.

When I moved in here a few months ago, I soon got used to the setup. Happy Earth makes most of its income from hourly rates, and Lexie is always ready to find a girl for anyone who comes here empty-handed, looking for a good time.

Liam from Brennan’s Boxing Club recommended this place. Lexie is his cousin’s wife or something, and she told me we could have the room with the two singles in it because the one bed had a broken leg and wasn’t any good for fucking anymore.

I wasn’t too happy about the guest turnover in this place, but most of it happens on the lower floors anyway. Lexie keeps the long-term guests—those paying daily or weekly rates—on the second floor. Also, a lot of the bed breaking happens at night, or in the middle of the day when my sisters are at school.

Up until now, I’d thought this was the perfect setup while I saved up for something better…until I came down here a few minutes ago to speak to Lexie.

“They’re just fucking kids!” I yell at her, stabbing a finger in her direction as soon as Beefhead’s done freeing my hands. “The fuck were you thinking, giving them up?”

“I told you, I don’t know anything,” Lexie says, batting her fake lashes at me as she picks up her nail file and gets to work on her acrylic tips. Her only genuine asset is her eyes—big, brown, and beautiful, despite her inch-thick makeup. “Housekeeping hasn’t been up there all day.”

I show her my teeth, and charge toward the check-in desk with a low growl.

Lexie rolls her eyes at me. “You want another go with Ben’s baseball bat?”

I skid to a halt. My head is already pounding, and my vision isn’t a hundred percent yet. Concussion, most likely. Don’t need another knock on my poor noggin.

“Did you see anyone?” I demand. “Hear anything?” I turn and point through the foyer’s big glass windows. “I mean, they would have walkedrightpast you.”

Lexie shrugs. “I didn’t see nothing.” She turns to Beefhead. “Did you see something?”

Ben shakes his head. “Could have taken the back stairs.”

“Oh my God, it speaks!” I hiss, throwing him a glare over my shoulder.

Only then do I remember Savage’s friend is still standing nearby.

I’m not a sobbing, shaking mess anymore. That shit never lasts long. Even when I had to put my mother in the ground, there were never hysterics. But this? Finding thatmurder scenein my room?

It was too much even for me to handle. I lost it. Then I called Savage, and I found it again.

Control. Determination. I was a calm, calculating machine.

But when I came down here to talk to Lexie—just talk!—and the next thing I knew, I was lunging at her over the counter.

That’s when Ben decided to use my head to practice his softball swing.

“How much did they pay you?” I growl.

“Listen, Nyx, we should—”

I simply hold up a fist in his general direction, and Savage’s friend cuts off.

Good. I wish more men had manners like him.

“How much, you chicken head whore?”

Lexie rolls her eyes again. “Babe, I saw nothing, okay? No one came in, no one went out.” She starts filing her nails again. “It’s been a fuck-quiet night.”

“They’re just kids,” I hiss.

“I’m not their mother. And looks like, neither are you.” Lexie tut-tuts me so hard I almost forget about my aching noggin and launch over the counter again.

But Savage’s friend grabs hold of my shoulder, despite how dangerous that could be for his health, and gives me a gentle tug.

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