Page 25 of Wicked Angel

I snatched the keys out of the hand of the man coming in the door, ignoring his call of surprise. I hit the button on the fob and followed the sound to the row of black sedans along the side of the entryway.

“There’s another guy I can call,” Archer said. “Goes by Hadrian—he’s a better hacker than me. He could probably—”

“I know the man,” I cut him off. “I’ll call him. Send the coordinates you have to my personal cell.” With that, I hung up and popped the respective sedan’s driver’s side door open.

Shoving the key into the ignition, I twisted and reversed out of the spot, sending a spray of gravel flying behind the wheels. A moment later, my phone beeped, and when I bluetoothed it into the sedan’s system, a GPS screen appeared. Three hours to Danover. I’d make it there in half the time, I knew. My foot pressed down harder on the gas as I dialed a new number—one that I knew wouldn’t exactly be receptive to my attention.

Unlike Archer, Hadrian answered much later. “What the hell do you want, Belmonte?”

I wanted a pretty little brat over my fucking knee as I pounded her ass red with the flat of my palm. I wanted her on her knees between my legs; her lips stretched tight around the base of my cock as she showed me just how remorseful she was for disobeying me. I wanted a fuck of a lot of things, but from him, Ineededmore.

“I have a missing woman,” I stated. “Evangeline Price. Last known location was Danover, New York.”

A beat of silence passed, and then, “Evangeline Price? As in of the Price Empire?” Hadrian’s curiosity was clear in his tone and likely the only reason he’d picked up my call. God knew that he and his partner and their shared wife wanted very little to do with me. They weren’t enemies, but they certainly hadn’t appreciated my own part in bringing the three of them together. It didn’t matter that I’d been acting as a proxy. I’d been the face of the man who had threatened the three of them. To them, I was a liability.

I didn’t care about any of that. I’d owe them a favor if he managed to help me, and I’d repay that favor in blood if they so requested. “Yes,” I cut the word out. “The very same. I need you to find her. I need you to hack more than the CCTVs. Private computers, cars, anything you can to get a bead on her.”

“Hmmm.” Hadrian hummed in the back of his throat as I sped out of the Price Mansion’s gates and down the long winding road toward Danover. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You want me to help you? Hack into the privacy of an untold number of American citizens all for … a mafia princess?”

Biting down on my tongue, tasting blood in my mouth, I spoke the truth. It was a rare occurrence but lies wouldn’t help me here. “She’s my fiancée,” I said.

A bark of laughter met that comment. “No shit!” Hadrian chuckled. “You? Married? Never thought I’d see it happen.”

I repressed the urge to crush the steering wheel beneath my grip. “Can you do it?” I demanded.

“Oh, I can do it,” Hadrian replied. “You do understand, though, that this means you’ll owe me, right?”

“I’ll be at your disposal,” I reply. “Ifyou can find her and bring me to her location, I’ll kill whoever you ask.”

Hadrian continued to chuckle as the sound of movement echoed from the other side. Fingers clicked across a keyboard. “I assume you’re on the way to Danover now?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “How far out are you?”

“Less than two hours,” I replied.

“I’ll call you back in an hour,” he said. “I’ll have more information then.”

With that, he hung up and I was left with my thoughts. As I drove, I found myself refocusing on Angel and what her punishment would be.

Angel was smarter than most would give her credit for. Already, I knew any expensive or higher profile hotels would gain her unwanted attention and she wouldn’t want that. Whatever her plan may have been, it was likely that she’d go to a cash-only, cheap, remote, and out of the way motel. Hadrian—like Archer—would figure that out faster than even me. If CCTV footage couldn’t be found, then he would go further. Everyone had a cell phone with a camera these days, and they had computers. No matter how remote a place was, there was always some sort of technology. It didn’t matter how safe or protected she felt, I would find her. That was a given.

Fifty-three minutes after he hung up, Hadrian returned my call and proved my assumptions correct. “Faraway Inn,” he said. “Address 659, Yvera Drive. Room: 47. It’s just outside of Danover. Seedy. Cheap. She was smart. There’s no security footage. It’s one of those places businessmen fuck their STD-riddled and questionably gendered hookers. I had to hack the front desk’s computer system. Easy enough, but—”

“Thank you. I’ll return the favor,” I said, interrupting him as I steered the sedan off the highway and followed the new path set by the GPS. With that, I ended the call and stomped on the gas.

So fucking close.

Just under thirty minutes later, I was pulling up outside the Faraway Inn—a stretched-out, two-story building half hidden by an old factory that likely hadn’t been used in over a decade.

She’d had her few hours of freedom, but that was all about to come to an end. Fury simmered as I turned off the car. My long legs ate up the distance between me and the grimy door—one with no peephole or window for her to see who was at the door. After three sharp knocks, I waited.

“Who is it?” Angel’s voice was sharp, mistrustful.

I inhaled sharply. “Open the fucking door, Angel,” I ordered through the thin wood.

“Gaven?” Her voice grew closer. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ll tell you … as soon as you open the door.”

There was a pause, and then, “I don’t know if I should,” she admitted. Smart girl. She had to know I was angry.

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