Page 2 of Never Fall for an Angel

CHRISTIAN

Arkansas, July

If the Arkansas’s Best Inn is the best they have to offer, this state is well and truly fucked. The place is in serious need of a maintenance man—or a flame thrower—and judging by the sleazy motherfuckers that keep going in and out of room A-7, I’d say a couple cops, too.

She always chooses places like this. Somewhere she thinks I won’t search for her. As if I’m stupid enough to believe she’d use her credit card.

This is the closest I’ve gotten sincethatnight, and my dick aches to move closer.

Perfect little body. Blonde curls, wild in a messy braid. I can’t see her eyes, but I know if she were to look up and spot me, they’d be a striking, soft gray, like moonlight on the lake or some shit.

She’s as beautiful as I remember, save for the hollowness behind her smile.

Mila Carpenter was made to ruin me. Like the devil himself handed her to me on a silver platter because God would never give up something so fucking perfect.

I’ve been trailing her for five long, long fucking months. Just watching. Waiting for the perfect time to strike. Every time she thinks she’s gotten away, I show back up to remind her she will never escape me.

Especially not since she shot me.

I hate that the light in her eyes was stolen. What struck me like a thousand volts the moment I laid eyes on her. That sweet fucking innocenceIstole from her when I made her mine.

—The crushing reality I forced on her when I gave her back.

Unfortunately, there’s a part of me that lives in her, and not a single person on this fucking planet could cut it out. Not even me.

She’s burrowed her way into every one of my thoughts. Every one of my fantasies. My fucking soul . . . and now all that’s left are the charred remains of what used to be my self-control.

Diagnosis? I’m fucked.

I sit in the front seat of my car parked at the gas station across the street, watching her while I pull on the end of my cigarette. She doesn’t realize the curtains to her little motel room for thenight are sheer, and I can see her, even if she can’t see me through the tint on my windows.

Nearly every night is the same.

She runs.

I find her.

She runs again when she senses my presence.

I find her again.

This time in Arkansas will be no different. The states are only so big, and she doesn’t have a passport to get to either Mexico or Canada, and I’m running out of patience. Soon, there will be no more running.

She will be my greatest revenge.

She pulls the curtain back, peeking out into the night, and pauses, her gaze lingering on my car as if she can sense me. Unbeknownst to her, we stare at each other for a long moment.

She’s scared.

Finally, she lets the curtain fall back closed and slips back on the shitty motel bed.

Cutting off the lamp, she turns away from the window as if she can hide. Softly, I let out a dark chuckle when a shiver rolls through her.

Silly fucking girl.

I’ll always find her.

The devil doesn’t just give up what belongs to him.

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