Page 168 of Never Fall for an Angel

My phone buzzes on the table behind me, alerting me that time is up.

“Seems like I’ve run out of time, Dave.”

Dave shakes his head, his eyes filling with terror.

“No,” he pleads. “I gave you what you asked for.”

“Not really,” Levi says. “You gave us a name. We want to know who’s behind it at the top of the totem pole. Not really the same thing, now is it, Dave?”

“I say we leave him here for a night to think about it.”

Levi shrugs. “Could be fun. Not like I’ve got any plans.”

I nod, holding up the leather strap.

“You get to live, Dave,” I cheer, nodding to Levi to lift Dave’s chin. Dave blubbers, flinching when I wrap the leather around his throat. “For now.”

“Please—”

I silence him by pressing the forks into his chest until pinpricks of blood rise to the surface. Then Levi lets go of his chin, and then forks dig in there, too.

Now, he can’t talk.

I made it tighter than normal. If he moves his neck, the forks will only dig deeper into his skin. It won’t kill him, but it’ll hurt like a bitch. A small price to pay for all the fucked-up shit he’s done, in my opinion.

“You know, Dave,” I say quietly, right in his face, while tears leak out of the corners of his eyes. I’m sure he’ll be hurting much more when I return. “The only thing I’m sorry about right now is the fact that you and the woman you hurt will have matchingscars.” My eyes flick down to the blood on his chest. “At least on the outside.”

I straighten, head to the table, and silence my phone. My eyes catch on the screen. Some stupid little picture I snapped the week before we left of Mila curled up against my side, Phantom with his head on her hip.

It was just a normal day. It was raining like fucking crazy, and both of us were tired, so we laid down for a nap. It was the most domestic normalcy we’ve been able to find in this new life, and I didn’t sleep a fucking wink because I couldn’t stop thinking about where we go from here.

Fuck, I still can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s been a week and a half and, fuck, I miss my wife.

Mywife. Who the fuck would have thought a man like me would marry a girl like Mila?

Definitely not me. Then, again. She didn’t really get any choices in that.

Does it make me the bad guy if I’m not sorry? If I know I’d do it a hundred times over because it means she’s safer than she was on her own?

Drugging her. Kidnapping her. Holding her on some long-forgotten island. All of it’s led up to this point of no return and now that she knows the truth, I can’t escape the feeling that I’ll get the call that she’s up and vanished.

—Again.

“She’ll forgive you, you know?”

I grit my teeth, shutting my phone screen off. I’m not in the mood to talk about this shit with Levi. Seems he has other ideas, though, when he leans back against the table beside me.

“Not so sure with Talia fucking shit up, now.”

I must admit, the arrival of my ex couldn’t have come at a worse time. When I got her call the other night, I almost called New York off and went straight the fuck home.

I’m here for a reason, though, and that reason is my wife, even if she doesn’t understand.

“She’s a good girl,” he shrugs. “She’ll understand.”

“Thought you hated her because she shot me?” I challenge, cocking a brow at him, and he grins.

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